Licking Valley courier. [volume] (West Liberty, Ky.) 19??-current, 1912-04-04

Now Enid Maitland hated the wo-
man who had enjoyed the first young
love Of the man she herself loved.
She hated her because of her priority
of possession, because her memory.
vet came between her and that man.
She hated her because Newbold was
still true to her memory, because
Newbold, believing in the greatness OF
her passion for him, thought it shame
and dishonor 20 his manhood to be
false to her, no matter what love and
longing drew him on.
Yet there was stern sense of JUS
tice in the bosom Of this young wo-
man. She exulted in the successful
battle the poor woman had made for
the preservation of her honor and her
good name, against such odds. It was
a sex triumph for which she was glad
She was proud Of her for the stern
rigor with which she had refused to
take the easiest way and the desper-
alton with which she had chung to
him she did not love, but to whom
she was bound by the laws of God and
man, in order that she might not fall
into the arms of the man she did love,
in defiance of right.
Enid Maitland and this woman were
as far removed from each other
as the opposite poles of the earth, but
there was yet common quality in
each one of virtuous womanhood, OF
lofty morality. Natural, perhaps In
the one and to be be expected; UNI
natural, perhaps, and to be unexpect-
ed in the other, but there! Now that
she knew what love was and what
its power and what its force--for all
that she had felt and experienced and
dreamed about before were as nothing
to what it was since he had spoken
she could understand what the strug-
gle must have been in that woman's
heart. She could honor her, rever'
ence her, pity her.
she could understand the feeling oil
the man too; she could think much
more clearly than he. He was dis
tracted by two passions, for his pride
and his honor and for her; she had as
yet but one, for him. And as there
was less turmoil and confusion in hei
mind, she was better capable of look
ing the facts in the face and making
the right deduction from them.
She could understand how in the
] first frightful rush of his grief and re
morse and love the very fact thai
Newbold had been compelled to xii
his wife, Of whom he was beginning tt
grow little weary under such circum
stances, had added immensely to his
remorse and quickened his determin
alton to expiate his guilt and cherish
her memory. She could understand
why he would do just as he had done
go into the wilderness to be alone il
horror of himself and in horror of hil
fellow men to think only, mistakenly
Of her.
Now he was paying the penalty o
that isolation. Men were made t
live with one another, and no ont
could violate the law natural, or b.
so long an inheritance as to have 81
become, without paying that penalty
His ideas of loyalty and fidelity wer
warped, his conceptions of HIS dut.
were narrow. There was somethini
noble in his determination, II /
true, but there was something ais
very foolish. The dividing line be
tween wisdom and folly is some
4 times as indefinite as that betweel
comedy and tragedy, between laughte
and tears. If theiSwoman he ha
married and killed had only hate
him and he had known It would hay
been different, but since he believe
so in her love he could do nothin
else.
At that period in her reflection
Enid Maitland saw a great light
The woman had not loved her hu!
band after all, she had loved anotl
er. That passion Of which he ha
dreamed had not been for him. By
strange chain of circumstances Enl
Maitland held in her hand the sol,
ton Of the problem. she had BIZ
to give him these letters to sho'
him that his golden image had stoo
upon feet of clay, that the love VI
on which he had dwelt was not hi
Once convinced OF that he woul
come quick to her arms. She erie
prayer of blessing on old Kirkb
and started to her feet, the letter
in hand, to call Newbold back to he
and tell him, and then she stoppe'
I Woman as she was she had I,
spect for the binding conditions an
! laws of honor as well as he. Chanc
nay Providence, had put the hone
: of this woman, her rival, in hi
hands. The world had long sine
forgotten this poor unfortunate;
! no heart was her memory cherlshe
u save in that of her husband. H
e idea of her was false one to /
sure, but not even TO procure h,
t own happiness could Enid Maitlar
q overthrow that ideal, shatter thi
G memory.
o She sat down again with the IL
b ters in her hand. It had been vel
It simple a moment since, but 1t W,
J. not so now, She had but to sho
t him those letters to remove the gre
It barrier between them. She could n
n do 1t. 1t was clearly impossible. TT
a reputation Of her dead sister WI
t, had struggled so bravely to the eI
d was in her hands, she could not sa
r rlflce her even for her own hapl
IN ness.
o "Quixotlc," you say? do not THU
II so, She had blundered unwlttingl
d unwilllngly, upon the heart secret
d the other woman; she could not
tray 1t. Even II the other wont
II had been really unfathful In deed
1t well as in thought to her husba,
W Enid could hardly have destroyed
" Recollection of her. How much mo