The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1912-10-26

Of his wife, although he had burned
the letters unread, and by the same
token he could no longer cherish the
dream that she had loved him and him
alone. Those words that had pre-
ceded that pistol shot had made 1t
possible for him to take Enid Matt
land as his wife without doing violence
to his sense Of honor or his self-re-
spect. Armstrong had made that
much reparation. And Newbold could
not doubt that the other had known
what would be the result of his speech
and had chosen his words deliberately;
score that last action to his credit He
was sensitive man, however; he
realized the brutal and beast-like part
he and Armstrong had both played be.
fore this woman they both loved, how
they had bartias like savage animals
and how but for lucky interpretation
he would have added murder to his
other disabilities.
He was honest enough to say 20 him
self that he would have done the same
thing over under the same circun-
stances, but that did not absolve his
conscience. He did not know how the
woman looked at the transaction or
looked at him, and he had not enjoyed
one moment alone with her. In all
that had transpired since that morn.
ing In the hut, the four had naturally
and inevitably remained inseparably
together.
They had buried Armstrong in the
snow, Robert Maitland saying over
him brief but feryent petition In
which even NeWbold joined. Enid
Maitland herself had repeated elo-
quently to her uncle and old Kirkby
that night before the fire the story Of
her rescue from the food by this man.
how he had carried her In the storm
to the hut and how he had treated her
since; and Maitland had afterwards
repeated her account to his brother In
Denver.
Maitland had insisted that NeWbold
share his hospitality, but that young
man had refused. Kirkby had a little
place not far from Denver and easily
accessible to It, and the old man had
gladly taken the younger one with
him. NeRbold had been Ii q fever of
anxiety over Enid MaitIand's illnesa,
but his alarm u I'D soon tteen dispallsd
BY the physieian's assurance, and
there was nothing now left for him
but to wait until she could see him.
He inquired for her morning and even
ing at the great house on the hill:
he kept her room bower of beauty
with priceless blossoms, but he had
sent no word.
Robert Maitland had promised to let
him know, however, so soon as Enid
could see him, and it was in pursuance
of telephone message that he was Ia
the library that morning
He had not vet become accustomed
to the world; he had lived so long
alone that he had grown somewhat shy
and retiring; the habits and customs
Of years were not to be lightly thrown
aside in a week or month. He had
sought no interview with Ends father
heretofore; indeed had rather avoided
it, but on this morning he had asked
for it, and when Robert Maitland
would have withdrawn he begged him
to remain.
"Mr. Maitland" Newbold began, n
presume that you know my unfortzS
nate history"
II have heard the general outlines
Of 1t, sir, from my brother and Others
answered the other kindly.
Il need not dwell upon it furthea
hen. Althoughmy hair is tinged witk
gray and doubtless look much older.
| was only twenty-eight on my lasa
birthday. I was not born in this SEQ.
ion of the country, my home was ID
Baltimore
(To BEScoNTINUED)