The Washington times., 1913-08-31
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Book of the Heart.

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~ HILIP GRAFTON had anticipated
a speedy release. He had gone
with the provost guard that day
at the farm with the confident
hope of being soon in the South again;
but Grafton. although he was very
important parsonage to certain inol-
viduaIs in this story, was but a small
piece, on the great chessboard. Merely
q sergeant in the Virginia line-he was
passed over again and again until he
grew sick with hope deferred.
a consuming anxiety filled his mino
to learn something of Ariadne. Blessings
lit is a trite phrase-brighten as they
take their flight. Grafton discovered it
TO be painfully true. He found himself
longing for his wife as he had never
in all his life longed for anything be-
fore.
When Ariadne had been pouring out
her wealth OF affection upon him he
had-no, he had not disdained ft-but
he had been Indifferent to it! Now
that her love was withheld, now that
she hs d ceased TO be dependent upon
him, now that she had gone away,
there was nothing he so lOnGed for as
a sight of her face, a touch OF ner
hand, a kiss from her lips IL was ap-
palling to think of her away from him,
suffering from broken heart, mere
child, alone perhaps among strangers.
No woman who loves a man ever goes
away from him without hope of pursuit,
thought Grafton. He was sure that she
loved him still. She could not change in
that particular. She must be awaiting
him, then. What must she think OF him.
therefore? Did she believe that he had
tamely accepted her decision? Could she
think for moment that he would al
low her his lawful wife-how he thrilled
at the thought Of that-to separate her
self from. him, to 60 away and leave
him, to- live her life alone? Yet what
else could she think? His impatience
Not when he had a mind to think and
plan and a body to execute should that
be. He would have Ariadne. He would
tell her that Kathleen Kirkwood cared
nothing for him, that she had confessed
20 him that she loved her husband
which was as 1t should be-and that he,
Philip Grafton, was glad Of 1t. He
would declare to her that while he
should ever hold the Northern woman IN
gracious and tender memory, he would
make it his Iife task to bring happiness
to Ariadne. If he didn't love her, he
said he would devote himself to her and
persuade her that he did. and that
would be easy. He tried to persuade
81 anxiety were for his wife, and not for
himself; that he wanted to find her for
her sake, and not for his own Oh, fool,
and blind!
MdIlg q IQdu III luc lull DidLo
Of the morning sun and yet fancies
himself in darkness; many soul is
awake while II yet dreams itself I'M
mersed in slumber. Philip, more from
habit than anything else, chung to that
idle fancy that Kathleen was still in
his heart. Really he was already over
whelmingly in love with Ariadne, his
wife, and did not know II. All he need
ed was TO sustain a shock to clarity
his thoughts, a reagent to precipitate
hts ahHcrinnR One sight of his wife
would do that.
He did not sentimentalize much.
either. AS the days of his captivity
grew longer he grew more and more
ANXIOUS and more and more resolute.
But It was not until five weary months
had dragged away on leaden feet, each
with an added quota Of trouble and sus-
pense to Grafton, that the welcome ex-
change was effected. It was in Janu-
arS when he landed in Richmond again.
Reporting his arrival, as he was in
duty bound to do, TO the commissioner
of exchanges, he at once sought and
obtained immediate leave to visit his
home.
He was not strong. Prison life and
prison fare were not conducive to
health al best. and when a man had
previously suffered from terrible
consuming mental anxiety, he did not
recuperate under such conditions Graf
ton therefore, was In a wretched phys
ical condition. His walk home was a
long one, and thoroughly tired him, but
the last two blocks he passed on a
run. At the last he turned the corner
and saw the house among the trees.
There, where the magnolias, bloomless
now, arched over the gate at which she
stood when the regiment had marched
OF to war, he had hoped that she might
be standing at that moment: as II some
telpathic word of the heart could have
informed her that he was coming TO
her, and she would have come 20 meet
him.
There was a sudden awakening from
any such idle dream when he stepped
on the porch and saw that the house
was tightly closed. He walked rapidly
around II, observing that every blind
and every door locked. After trying all
the doors, in his disappointment he beat
upon them with his fists The noise of
his blows came back in emDtH ecnOcs.
HIS wife was not there; no one - ther' .
His kinswoman, Mrs. Gallowa' who
kept the house for him. mus have
gone, too. There was not even 2 serv-
ant about the place. Then he began to
realize what he had before ref.'sed 10
acknowledge, that Ariadne had sIready
carried out her resolution, and that
long search was before him before he
could appear in that magnanimCus part
In which he fancied himself. when he
had thought upon the matter, in prison.
Just how to begin that search he did
not know. Where she could have gone
he could not imagine. Valiewis and
Braeside both occurred to him, but
both had been destroyed during Nc
Cleilan,s campaign, and Vallewis did
not belong to Ariadne. He, was sure
she had no other property. He sat
down on the porch in great weariness
of body and faintness of heart. This
was such q disappointing Homecoming
ON the few times when he had visited
his wife she had always received him
with such glad light in her eyes that
he seemed to be sitting in thick dark
ness now that she was away. Where
had MIS-. Galloway gone? II was In
credible that Ariadne could have taken
her on some wild flight through the