Rock Island Argus., 1913-01-08

cent ana precious outpour1ngs of a
rare and womanly soulHthe only con-
ceivable open sesame to the hard.
locked nature he found himself pitted
against, would soon be resolved into
. vanishing pun OF smoke.
But the lid was thrust back, and the /
letters remained in hand. Mortal |
strength has its limits. Even Brother.
son could not shut down that lid on 1
words which might have been meant |
for him, harshly as he had repelled /
the idea.
The pause which followed told lit |
tie; but when Sweetwater heard the |
man within move with characteristic |
energy to the door, turn the key and /
step back again to his place at the
table, he knew that the danger mo-
ment had passed and that those let
ters were about to be read. not casual
ly, but seriously, as indeed their con-
tents merited.
4 This caused Sweetwater to feel seri-
GUS himself. Upon what result might
he calculate?
/ Impossible to tell. The balance of
/ probability hung even. Sweetwater
recognized this, and clung. breathless,
to his loop-hole. Fain would he have
( seen. as well as heard
Mr.. Brotherson read the first letter.
standing. As it soon became public
property. will give it here. just as it
afterwards appeared in the columns OF
the greedy journals:
Beloved:
When sit, as ! often do, In per-
feet quiet under the stars, and dream
that you are looking at them too, not
for hours as do, but for one full mo-
ment in which your thoughts are with
me as wholly as mine are with you, l
feel that the bond between US, unseen
by the world, and possibly not wholly
recognized by ourselves, is instinct
with the same power which links to-
gether the eternities.
1T seems to have always been; to
have known no beginning, only bud
ding, an effiorescence, the visible prod
uct OF hidden but always present
reality. A month ago and l was igno-
rant, even, OF your name. Now, you
seem the best known to me, the best
understood, of Gods creatures. One
afternoon of perfect companionship-
one flash of strong emotion, with its
deep, true insight into each others
soul, and the miracle was wrought
We had met, and henceforth, parting
would mean separation only, and not
the severing of a mutual bond. One
hand. and one only, could do that now
l will not name that hand. For US
there is nought ahead but life.
Thus do l ease my heart in the 81
lence which conditions impose upon
us. Some day shall hear your voice
again, and then"
The paper dropped from the read
er's hand. 1t was several minutes be-
fore he took up another.
This one, as it happened, antedated
the other, as will appear on reading
: it:
My friend:
Il said that could not write to YOU
that we must wait. You were will
ing; but there is much to be accom-.
plished, and the silence may be long
My father is not an easy man to
, please, but he desires my happiness
= and will listen to my plea when the
right hour comes. When you have
: won your place-when you have
I shown yourself to be the man l feel
you to be, then my father will recog-
, nize your worth, and the way will be
| cleared, despite the obstacles which
now intervene
! But meantime! All, you will not
) know it, but words will rise-the heart
/ must find utterance. What the lip
cannot utter, nor the looks reveal
l these pages shall hold in sacred trust
: for you till the day when my father
: will place my hand in yours, with
3 heartfelt approval.
| rs it a folly? A woman's weak
}. evasion of the strong silence of man
2 You may say so some day; but some
how, doubt it doubt it,
: The creaking of a chair-the man
: within had seated himself. There was
: no other sound; a soul in turmoil
;, wakens no echoes. Sweetwater envied
the walls surrounding the unsympa
t thetic reader. They could see. He
! could only listen.
y A little while; then that slight
: rustling again Of the unfolding sheet
:, The following was read, and then the
r fourth and last:
! Dearest:
+ Did you think had never seen yoI
n till that day we met in Lenox? l an
t going to tell you a secret-a great
e great secret-such a one as a woman
: hardly whispers to her own heart.
t "One day, in early summer, | wal
r sitting in st. Bartholomew churcl
g on Fifth avenue, waiting for the serv
L ices to begin. 1t was early and tn,
congregation was assembling. While
t idly watching the people coming in
g saw gentleman pass by me up tn,
> aisle, who made me forget all the 9th
b ers. He had not the air OF a New
e Yorker; he was not even dressed fl
s city style. but as noted his face anC
l. expression, / said way down in MI
4 heart, That is the kind of man coulC
: love; the only man / have ever seer
t who could make me forget my owl
world and my own people 1t was {
r passing thought, soon forgotten. Blu
T. when in that hour of embarrassment
d and peril on Greylock mountain,
l. IL