The Washington times., 1913-06-09
CHAPTER v.
How the Address Was Lost.

ND now the end OF that journey,
never altogether forgotten by
~ either of them. was close al
hand. Tunnels became more
frequent, the green fields gave way to
an interminable waste of houses. the
gloom of the autumn afternoon was
deepened. The speed of the train de-
creased, the heart of Douglas Jesson
beat fast with anticipation. For now,
indeed, he was near the end OF his
journey, the beginning of his new life.
What matter that the outlook from
where he sat was dreary enough. Be-
yond, there was glow in the sky; be-
yond was an undiscovered world He
was young, and he came fresh to the
fight. The woman who watched him
wondered.
"Will you tell me-" she said, NOW
that you are in London, what will you
do? You have money. perhaps, or viii
You work.
Money" he laughed. gayly at first.
but with a chill shiver Immediately af-
terward Yes, he had money. For the
moment he had forgotten it.
Il have a small sum-" he said: "just
sufficient to last me until begin to
earn some"
And you will earn money-how?"
With my pen, / hope" he answered
simply. Il have sent several stories to
the hex One they accepted. but it has
not appeared yet.
ITO make money by writing in Lon
don is very difficult, they say" she re-
marked
Everything in life is difficult" he
answered confidently. Il am prepared
for Disappointment at first. In the end
1 have no fears
She handed him a card from her
rwin you come and see me?" she
asked. - = - -
Thank you," he answered hesitating-
ly. Il VIII come when / have made
Il know a great many people who are
literary, including the editor of the
lbex,' she said Il think If you came
that i could help you"
He shook his head.
The narrow way for me-" he an
success but / want to win it myself"
Her face was clouded.
You are a foolish boy" she said.
Believe me that i am offering you the
surest path 10 success. London is full
of young men with talent. and most
days they go hungry"
He stood up. and, though she was an
noyed. the fire in his eyes was good to
look upon.
I must take my place with them." he
said; whatever my destiny may be, l
shall find it,
ing into the station alongside the plat
form. A tall footman threw open the
door of the carriage, and lady's maid,
with a jewel-case in her hand, stared at
him with undisguised curiosity. The
lady bade him good-by kindly, yet with
a note of final dismissal in her tone.
He had occupied her time for an hour
OF two. and saved her from absolute
boredom.
The matter was ended there.
kAta af
the station he watched her stand list
lessly on the platform, while her things
were being collected-a tall distinguished
looking figure, and very noticeable
among the motley crowd who were
streaming from the train. once he fam
cied that her eyes strayed along the
way by which he had left moment
later she was accosted by a man who
had just driven into the station. She
seemed to greet him without enthusi-
asm. He on the other hand. was obvi-
ously welcoming her warmly.
He. too. was tall, carefully dressed
and well-groOmed, middle aged. a type,
he supposed. of the men of her world.
] here was a few minutes conversation,
then they moved across the platform
/" the carriage, which was drawn up
waiting. He handed her in. lingering
hat in hand for a moment as though
toping for an invitation to follow her,
which. kCwever did not come.
he carriage drove passing the
'pot whsre Douglas had fingered. and IL |
TO him that her eyes. gazing
ang,hdly out of the window. met his, |
and that she started forward in her
seat. as though to call to him. But the
'arriage received no summons to stop. |
II rolled out of the station and turned |
rostwald. Douglas turned and followed
I on foot.
He walked at first very much like n |
man in a dream. quite needless as 10 |
direction. even without any fixed pur- |
'nse before him. Here he was. arrived !
alter all at the first stage in his new 1
tfe. He was a free man. living unit |
n this streaming horde of humanity.
or his old life, the most pleasant |
memory which survived was the lone |
mess OF the hills and moorland high |
above his village home Here he had |
spent whole nights with nothing but
he WIND and the stars and the distant |
'heep-bells to keep him company Here !
ie had woven many dreams of this |
uture which lay now actually within |
MS grasp. lie mad stolen up the noun
ain path while the little village lay !
aecping and watched the shadows pass
Icross the hills. and the darkness stea, |
oftly down upon the landscape stretch
d out like patchwork below
Then with the night and the absence
Il all human sounds had come that
weet and mystical sense of loneliness
which had so often brought him peaca
Il time when the smallness OF the
lays events and the tyranny of his
lome life had filled him with bitter
less. II was here that courage had
ONE to him to plan out his emancipa-
ion, here that he lad fed his brain
With sweet but forbidden fruits. Some
hing of that delicious loneliness was
pon him now.
He was a wanderer in a new world.
What matter though the streets were
nuaIid and the men and women |
gainst whom she brushed were, for
he most part. poorly dressed and ill.,
ooking. He was free. Even his identity
vas gone. Douglas Cues; was dead
nd with his pest Douglas less IN had
othing to do.
He wandered on. asking no questions,
content. The great city ex-
'anded before him. Streets became
vider, carriages were more frequent,