Middletown transcript., 1912-05-18


ever. Mr.. James Armstrong was not
satisfied. He was as hopeless as the
rest. but his temperament would not
permit him to accept the inevitable
It was barely possible that
she might not be dead, and that she
might not be alone. There was scarce
up enough possibility Of this to justify
a suspicion, but that is not saying
there was none at all.
Day after day he had sat in his Of
fice denying himself to everyone and
refusing to consider anything, brood
ing over the situation. He loved Enid
Maitland, he loved her before, and now
that he had lost her, he loved her still
more.
Not altogether admirable had been
James Armstrong; outwardly success
full career. In much that Is high and
noble and manly his actions-and his
often been lacking, but
even the base can love, and sometimes
love transforms, If 1t be given a
chance. The passion Of Cymon for Iph-
igenia, made a man and prince out OF
the rustic boor, and his real love for
Enid Maitland might have done more
for Armstrong than he himself or any
one who knew him as he was, and
few there were who had such
knowledge Of him, dreamed was
possible. There was one thing that
love could not do, however; 1t
could not make him patient phil
osopher, a good waiter. His rule OF
life was not very high, but in one way
1t was admirable, in that prompt, bold
desire action was his chiefest charac-
teristic.
On this certain morning a month
after the heart-breaking disaster, his.
power Of passive endurance had been
strained to the vanishing point. The
great white range was flung in his face
like a challenge. Within its secret re-
cesses lay the solution Of the mystery.
Somewhere, dead or alive, beyond the
soaring rampant was the woman he
loved. 1t was impossible for him to
remain quiet any longer. Common
sense, reason, every argument that
had been adduced, suddenly became of
no weight. He lifted his head and
stared straight westward, his eyes
swept the long semicircle Of horizon
across which the mighty range was
drawn like the chord Of gigantic arc
or the string of mighty bow. Each
white peak Knocked him, the insolent
aggression of the range called him ir-
resistibly to action.
by Heaven" he said under his
breath, rising to his feet, winter or
no winter, co.
Robert Maitland had Offices in the
same building. Having once come to a
determination, there was no more un-
certainty or hesitation about Arm
strong's course. In another moment
he was standing in the private room Of
his friend. The two men were not
alone there Stephen Maitland sat in
a low chair before another window
removed from the desk somewhat,
staring out at the range. The old
man was huddled down in his seat,
every line of his figure spoke of grief
and despair. OF all the places in Den
yer, he liked best his brothers Office
fronting the rampant of the noun
tains, and hour after hour he sat there
quietly looking at the submits, some
times softly shrouded in white, some
times swept bare by the fierce winter
gales that blew across them, some
times shining and sparkling so that
the eye scarce sustain their reflection
Of the dazzling sun OF Colorado; and
at other times seen dimly through
mists Of whirling snow.
Oh, yes, the mountains challenged
him also to the other side of the
range. His heart yearned for his
child, but he was too old to make
the attempt He could only sit and
pray and wait with such faint and fad
ing hope as no could still cherish I'M
til the break up Of the spring came.
For the rest he troubled nobody; no
body noticed him, nobody marked him,
nobody minded him. Robert Maitland
transacted his business a little more
softly, little more gently, that was
all. Yet the presence Of his brother
was a living grief and living re-
proach to him. Although he was quite
blameless he blamed himself. He had
not known how he had grown to love
his niece until he had lost her. His
conscience accused him hourly, and
yet he knew not where he was at
fault or how he could have done diff
ferently. It was helpless and hope
less situation. To him, therefore, en-
tered Armstrong.
Maitland" he began, 81 can't stand
it any longer. I'm going into the noun
tains."
you are mad!"
II can't help it. 1 can't sit here
and face them, damn them, and re-
main quiet"
you will never come out alive"
"Oh, yes, I will; but If I don't, ]
swear to God 1 don't cane"
Old Stephen Maitland rose unstead-
lily to his feet and gripped the back Of
his chair.
"Did 1 hear Alright, sir?" he asked.
with all the polished and graceful cour-
tesy of birth and breeding which never
deserted him in any emergency what
soever. do you say"
Il said I was going into the noun
tains to search for her"
1T is madness" urged Robert Matt
land.
But the old man did not hear him.
THANK God!" he exclaimed with
deep feeling. II have sat here day aft
er day and watched those mighty hills,
and have said to myself that If I
had youth and strength as have love;
/ would not wait"
you are right" returned Arm
strong, equally moved, and indeed 1t
would have been hard to have heard
and seen that father unrespmsively;
and I am not going to wait, either"
'T understand your feelings, Jim,
and yours, too, Steve" began Robert
Maitland, arguing against his own emo
!tions, "even if she escaped the food.
she must be dead by this time"
''You needn't go over the old argu-
ment, Bob. I'm going into the noun