The Washington herald., 1912-07-14

THE letter-the fowers-that one
| shinging golden hair, wound in
glistening thread about their
shriveled stems, seemed for short
space to lift Philip Steele from out Of
! the world he was in, to another in
which his mind was only vaguely con-
scious, stunned by this letter that had
come with the unexpectedness OF a
thunderbolt to change, in a single in
slant. every current of life in his body.
| For few moments he made no effort
to grasp the individual significance OF
the letter, the flowers, the golden hair.
| One thought filed his brain-one great,
| overpowering truth, which excluded
everything else-and this was the real
| izatIon that the woman he loved was
not Col. Becker's wife She was free.
And for him-Philip Steele-there was
hope Suddenly it dawned upon him
what the flowers meant. The colonel
had written the letter, and Isobel had
sent the faded violets, with their gold
en- thread. 1t was her message to him
"a message without words, and yet
with a deeper meaning for him than
words could have expressed. In a
flood there rushed back upon him all
the old visions which he had fought
against, and he saw her again in the
glow OF the campfire, and on the trail,
glorious in her beauty, his ideal of all
that a woman should be.
He rose to his feet and locked his
door, fearing that some one might en-
ter. He wanted TO be alone, to realize
fully what had happened, to regain con-
troll of his emotions If Isobel Becker
had merely written him line or two,
note exculpating herself of what her
father had already explained away, he
would still have thought that a world
lay between them. But, in place of that.
she had sent him the faded flowers, with
their golden thread!
For many minutes he paced back and
forth across his narrow room, and nev-
er had a room looked more like a pris-
on cell to him than this one did now.
He was filled with but one impulse. and |
that was to return to Lac Balm. to hum |
Bile himself at the feet of the woman |
he loved, and ask her forgiveness for |
the heinous thing he had done. He |
wanted to tell her that he had driven |
Bucky Nome into outlawry. that he had |
fought for her, and run away himself |
because he loved her. 1t was Serpt
Moody's voice, vibrant with the rasping
unpleasantness OF file, that Jared him !
back into his practical self. He thrust
the letter and the flowers into his breast
pocket, and opened the door.
Moody came in.
What in blazes are you locked I'D
for?" he demanded, his keen little eyes
scrutinizing Philips feverish face.
Afraid sornebody'll walk in and steal
you, Phil?"
Headache" said Philip, putting
hand to his head. "One of the kind
that makes you think your brain must
be hard ball humping around inside
your skull"
The sergeant laid his hand on Phil
p's arm.
GO take a walk, Phil" he said, in
softer voice. 1T will do you good. III;
ust came in to tell YOU the news,
They've got track of DeBar again, up
near Lac la Biche But we can talk
about that later. Go take a walk"
Thanks for the suggestion" said
Philip. Il believe I'll do it." |,
He passed beyond the barracks, and
lit the sleigh-worn road that led out of /
own, walking faster and faster, as his I
rain began working. He would return
o Lac Balm. That was settled in his {
mind without argument. Nothing /
.ould hold him back after what he had s
'ec.ived that afternoon If the letter ,
md tne -:olet message had come to him
rom the end af the earth it would have I