The Huttig news., 1913-05-10


 rene, and there was no serenity in him; rather confusion of ualaosed passions fearful of barrier and yearn. ing unanimously for freedom But. whatever his revolt, the secret revolt which makes no show in look or movement. he kept his ground and forced a smile of greeting. If her face was quiet, it was also lovely-too love ly, he felt, for a man to leave it, what ever might come of his lingering
 Nothing in all his life had ever af. fected him like it. For him there was 10 other woman in the past, the pres snt or the future, and, realizing this taking in to the full what her affection and her trust might be to him in hose fearsome days to come, Ire so draadnd rehnff-he who had been ae courted or women ana the admired f men ever since he could remember that he failed to respond to her wei :ome and the simple congratulations he felt forced 10 repeat. He could
 either speak the commonplace. nor isten to it. This was his crucial lour. He must find support here, or field hopelessly to the maelstrom in whose whirl he was caught.
 She saw his excitement and faltered back step-a move which she regret ted the next minute, for he took ad- vantage of it to enter and close behind him the door which she would never have shut of her own accord. Then he spoke, abruptly, passionately, but in these golden tones which no emo tion could render other than alluring:
 q am an unhappy man, Miss Scott I see that my presence here is not welcome, yet am sure that it would be so if it were not for a prejudice which your generous nature should be the first to cast aside, in face of the outspeken confidence of my brother Oswald Doris, little Doris, l love you. have loved you from the moment of our first meeting Not to many men is it given to find his heart so late. and when be does, it is for his whole life; no second passion can follow 1t. I know that am premature in saying
 
 hear such words from me and that it might be wiser for me to withhold them, but I must leave Derby soon and l cannot go until I know whether there is the least hope that you will yet lend a light to my career or whether that career must burn itself to ashes at your feet. Oswald-nay, n memories; but l must have an active hope-a tangible expectation-if l am to be the man l was meant to be. Will you, then, coldly dismiss mo, or will you let my whole future life prove to you the innocence of my past? l will not hasten anything; all l ask is some indulgence. Time will do the rest.
 "Impossible,' she murmured.
 But that was a word for which he had no ear. He saw that she was moved. unexpectedly so; that while her eyes wandered restlessly at times towards the door, they eyer came back in.girlish wonder, if not fascination, to his face, embcldening him so that he Yentured at last, to add:
 Doris, little Doris, I will teach you a marvellous lesson, if you Will only turn your dainty ear my way. Love such as mine carries infinite treasure with it. Will you have that treasure heaped, piled before your feet? Your lips say no, but your eyes-the truest eyes I ever saw--whisper a different language. The day will come when you will find your joy in the breast of him you are now afraid to trust" And not wa ing for disclaimer or even 3 glance Of reproach from the eyes ha had so wilfGlly misread, he withdrew with a movement as abrupt as that with which he had entered.
 Why, then, with the memory of this eXultant hour to fend off all shadows. did the midnight find him in his soli tary hangar in the moonlit woods. deeply Responding figure again. Be side him swung the huge machine which represented life Of power and luxury; but he no longer saw it. + called to him with many creak and quiet snap-sounds to start his blood and fire his eye week-nay, day ago. But he was deaf to this music now; the call went unheeded; the flu ture had no further meaning for him. nor did he know or think whether he sat in light or in darkness; whether the woods were silent about him. or panting with life and sound. His demon had gripped him again and the final battle was on. There would nev- CT be another Mighty as he felt him self to be, there were limits even to his capacity for endurance. He could sustain no further conflict How then would it end? He never had doubt himself! Yet he sat there.
 Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable small things without 8 name, skurried from lair to lair.
 He heard them not.
 Above, the moon rode, fiecking the deepest shadows with the silver from her half-turned urn, but none of the soft and healing drops fell upon him. Nature was no longer a goddess, but an avenger; light revealer, not a solace. Darkness the only boon.
 Nor had time meaning. From