The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1912-08-07
THE EVENING STORY
The Silver Lamp.
CBV Alice Ormond.)

of the deserted house. Linen shrouded
the upholstery, dust lay velvety in the
corners. There was faint odor OF
mildew. The house had been closed
since his grandmother's death, almost
nine years ago. When last he quilted
the place, thought Lethridge, he was
a boy of 25, smooth-cheeked, bright
eyed, surcharged with enthusiasm
Now, after his nine busy, successful
years in the Orient, the familiar sur
roundings brought poignantly to mind
the change in himself-a change MADE
up largely of the relinQuishing, one by
one, of his boyish dreams. How the
old house brought them back! These
faded walls had seen the destruction
of the bravest dream of them all. Here
it had met it's death, and since then,
absurdly sentimental as it may seem,
nothing had quite filed the gap it left.
nothing had made him forget it.
How the memory of Polly Hayden
stayed with him, and yet he had not
seen her again since the farewell re-
ception given him here by his grand
mother on the eve Of his departure.
He had been almost confident, then,
that she cared for him, although
there was his old classmate. Wade
Barrow. who was regarded by onlook-
ers as having an equal chance with
himself.
On learning of the sudden luck which
was to send him on his appointment
to Japan, Lethridge had gone to Polly
and asked her to marry him. If she
would consent his plan was to return
for her In a year. She had hesitated at
first-it was such an important decis-
ion, she insisted, and she wanted to
be quite sure-but she promised to
give him his answer the evening of
the reception. He had gone away
the bitter disappointment. Polly had
come to the reception-how lovely she
looked, he recalled!-but very early she
had gone away with Wade Barrow
without word of explanation, leaving
no message. He had been hurt, piQued,
and had sailed next day with miser-
able load on his heart.
Three months later a letter from
home told him of Pollys approaching
marriag e-to Barrow. Lethridge sent
her a very beautiful print for a we'd
ding present, received a cordial note
in thanks, and that was all. Nothing
remained of the friendship except a
haunting memory of the girl.
Slowly he wandered through the des-
olate rooms, reviving old, and some
times painful, recollections. At last
he drifted into little study at the
back of the house and down in a worn
leather armchair before a library table.
Over the center of the table was swung
q Greek lamp of dull silver. Lethridge
looked up at it with pleased recogni-
ton. 1t was a graceful thing. He had
always admired it when he was q boy.
Perhaps he would take 1t back with
him.
He started into listening attitude.
step sounded in the hall. Who could
it be? There was not even a caretaker
In the house. A shadow fell across the
doorway. Lethridge rose with an az
ton1shed exclamation as a slender
woman appeared in tie
doorway and stopped still with a fright
ened expression in her purplish gray
eyes.
Mrs. Barrow!" said Lethridge in
Frank There was no hesitation
In her use of his first name. IL
had no idea you were in America. |
When did you reach homer"
Yesterday. came straight over
to look at the old place. You know |
it has been shut up since my grand |
mother died, which was just after I |
went away. But you? I didn't |
dream of seeing an old friend here"
Mrs. Barrow looked a little en-
barrassed.
ST borrowed the keys from your
cousins" she said. "I came to look
for som ething / left here "a long
time ago."
ct seei Perhaps can help you find
It. I suppose you've lived in New York
right along?"
Except for the last year and a
half, which I've spent roaming about
Europe. I too. have just come home.
But tell me about yourself. How does
It feel to be famous?"
Lethridge shrugged his shoulders.
I'm not conscious of any particular
thrills he replied. smiling.
you are married, of course? It's
stupid of me to ask, but I've had lit
tie news lately
Indeed, no. I've not even been in
love-
mo? Surely you're joking
mot since the fair Polly Hayden
banished hope forever from my
breast he answered lightly.
st? What do you mean by that?'
she inquired curiously.
why, the usual thing You
1ere, in this very house-how you were
20 give me an answer to a pertinent
question I had asked you. Well@l
That was ALL
"You got my answer?''
''The most conclusive kind. You
vent off before L could get word
With you alone, went and left no mes
sage. By the way. was it that you
ng me the truth, face to face? I've
always wondered"
She was staring at him, wild-eyed,
one hand grasping the edge of the
able.
''Then it is true! You never got
ny motel" .,.,a,s
what note?" 1t was Lethr1dges
urn to stare.
1T left one for you. But shall I
ell what happened 2"
please dor His tone was per-
emptory with suddenly aroused ex-
element.
You see," she began, her grasp on
he table edge tightening, when
cached here there were crowds of
people about you so that 1t was inn
possible to speak to you by yourself.
had had a slight headache when I j
eft home, and by 10 O'Clock it had I
,rown so much worse that I saw it