Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-06-15
CHAPTER v. The Breeze Again

John STANFIELD didn't blame Pamela BIZ When
= he thought of those days at Wadebridge he
seemed to them from the girls point of view rather
than from his He knew exactly how she felt.
The fact that she hadn't wanted to him. had pre-
ferred the kindly village doctor and the andady didn't
hurt him; for he interpreted it meaning tha the
golden day and the silver evening, when Fate had
tossed them together, must have been Significantly diff
ferent to her too
If what he had told her that night on the bridge had
meant nothing than the casual, friendly talk OF
other stranger she'd have let him do much for
her the other strangers did. He welcome, he
told himself to whatever poor comfort there might De
in that idea
But he had left the event to the arbtramen Of Fate
Fate had decided it Enthusiastically If her fathers death
had happened week later, they might have been
far enough along that great SHOCK that
could not have taken her away from him. And he
had met her for the first time week later just friendly
stranger, the thing might have begun then. But it
there no help for it.
He packed his knapsack and trudged away on what
he had lghthearedly embarked as a holiday. He
didn't make the pretense of telling himself that
he not in love with her, that what had happened
Just pleasant little episode that would pass away
and leave trace.
The memory of her stayed beside him as he swung
along the road; carried him back to that evening when
they had walked together And in the evenings the
little inns where he found shelter for the night their
coy fires and the hoelke cheer they offered him only
brought back more and more poignanty the want her
absence made him feel He couldn't light his pipe with
out seeing her face again in smoke wreath.
But he kept doggedy, day by day along the route
he had marked for himself the road map there
Plymouth before he knew that there such person
Pamela in the world.
AT the end of a week. when he reached the city of
Exeter and made his way up the high street to the
old lnn laid aside his knapsc and took the pen they
gave him to register his with the guestboo he
just that he should never Pamela again
as he that he should never forget her
The pen badly and thickly gum1ned with
the particularly vicious sort OF violet ink that made
specially for the confounding of travellers and it had to
be ped clean with bit of blotting paper before it
could be persuaded to write.
AS he doing that the strong Channel breeze
playing in at the window and whipped over a
dozen pages of the wellworn book He clapped
his hand down them to keep them from being torn
away bodily
The clerk would have turned them back to the place
where he to sign but John Stanhed kept his hand
where and Ookedand his heart gave great leap
again had done there the grove of chestnut
by the Wadebridge churcfyard when she had spoken
him from out of the dark for there the page, Just
where his fingers holding it down. handwriting
he knew must be hers, the names, Tered Harris
ESQ., Pamela Harris, and across the address column
"Chicago, U. S. A." 1t was dated month before
The clerk moved impatiently and picked up the pen
He didn't why the young pedestrian who had Just
in should stand there indefinitely, staring a
brown study at an old page OF their register.
"If you'll put down your name Sir, he said, I'll
have your luggage sent to your room.
I'll not stop here, | think said John Stanfeld.
"I'll send a telegram two, and then go straight
Southampton. | can get boat there tomorrow morn
ing, can't II"
"For America? Oh yes, Sir, said the clerk.
Stanfeld took another look at the page and then
pressed his hand down it where the al
most as he meant to carry an imprint of them away
with him across his palm. Then, with nod to the
clerk, he shoudered his knapsack and walked out of
the inn.
Brskv with no hesitation at all, he walked to the
posotfice and teegraphed to Plymouth to have his
a..