Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1913-03-27

l attempted an easy tone, but il was a failure
and quiet fell upon US both.
"Marjorie's eyes were fixed upon the FIRE and
her slender hand was slowly caressing Sins head
as the dog lay beside her.
Suddenly she looked up at me, and I saw that
her eyes were filled with tears.
"I bent toward her.
"'Marjorie, Marjorie dear said I, I love you.
There is nothing in my world but you. Is there
is there any chance that you-?
"Ah, Jim she cried, and lifted her arms up to
me. The tears were still dim in her eyes, but there
was something else in them-something. else"
Jim had been talking as one in a half trance.
Now he reused himself quickly and walked over ia
the window.
The next day" he continued, 81 told Mr.. Gray
don and his wife, and asked their consent.
knew your father, Jim said Mr.. Graydon.
and ii you are like him, I think Marjorie will be
happy with you; but it is hard to give her up You
may have her, Jim. but-don't be in a hurry
| promised reluctantly to be patient for a year
me next summer | would come back to the woods
The next few days were days I cannot tell you
about They belonged to Marjorie and me-our last
days together before l anne back to this cursed
town-wonderful moments.
the end Of the home trail we parted. her
arms about me, my lips in her hair.
"I can live" she whispered, because you are
coming back to me-Jim, my JIM Como soon.
soon
he continued. " wanted TO tell you about it then,
but couldn't. 1t was something too sacred to
share even with you.
you saw that l was happy. I had to work hard
so that wouldn't be too happy. You remember
the mix,uP in that railroad merger. 1t was a bad
one. and I worked day and night for weeks like a
ioundrynan.
Every night, however. my letter to Marjorie
started north and each morning brought ono from
her. I noticed, though, that in the stress of bust
ness my letters grew shorter. It had to be so. !
didn't have a minutes peace until December.
"One day in the rush of that campaign a letter
lay on my desk. 1t was from Marjorie, and l put
1T IN my pocket to read later. forgot it. Teddy
weeks afterward | found in my coat two unopened
letters Of the week before.
And my work was driving me, and I made It
an excuse to myself-days came when l was too
weary to write, and later they became days when
l9rgot to write, days, when I even forgot her.
told me OF her began to slip from me- ribbon
that carried the scent of her hair, a bit of birch bark
which she had fashioned into a tiny canoe for me.
leave because they were hcrs-these things that 7
had loved were losing their meaning. They were
You noticed her picture on the mantel, Ted. but
you didn't ask about it, so I didn't tell you. Well.
one night on reaching home l CHANGED to notice its
absence.
Il asked Kamoto about it because he had had his
orders. never to touch it. He knew nothing about
b. back Ina Of 0 my d dtsfT W "a eqesi it ba9 fa iIa5' and ! bad lair; 1T
unnoticed and forgotten for a week.
These were perhaps trivial things, but they set
me thinking when | summed them all up. l was
overwhelmed with remorse at my thoughtlessness
and the result was a long and tender letter to
"Ah, Teddy. the letter I had in return! I read
it over to-day and wished I had never been born.
THANKSGIVING and you are coming, dear she
wrote. Each day / count good because it is past
and you are nearer to me. Our woods are leahess
now: but you, sweetheart, are unchanged-your let
And Where did / spend Thanksgiying? At a
Broadway hotel with a man named Smith,
Don't you see now-can't you see, Ted, where
81 was forgetting her. forgetting the girl who had
promised to be my wife.
Doc Evans, Bill Worthing-all that old crowd
at the club and downtown were reasserting them
selves-unconsciously enough, to be sure, but per-
sistently. Wall Street and Broadway were at their
work again.
"Marjorie's face was growing dim: the memory OF
her lips was fading. Marjorie was passing out OF
But I would not acknowledge it to myself nor
ton has carried my through a terrible winter; but
l deserve i'll deserve it all.
Marjorie does not suspect. She believed the
reasons gave her for not going to her at Thanks
and my excuses to her were lies. | lied to Marjorie
Graydon!"
4 wouldn't get excited about i, lin said /.
niiying itself to you. The chances are that you
are not as deeply involved as you imagine. Pro
badly you will never see her again; and her infatu-
alton for you will die out in time
Jim's face went livid and distorted with anger.
"Why-why; you snug faced pbariSee, you'mhow
don't yous You know 7 am telling you the truth,
even If / haven't told it to her! Look at this" .
hv toe took s thf GSlops ,i paper This he t tsTns5 howard me and
II am coming to you. 1t is too long to wait.
Aunt Harriett's, Friday night.
"MARJORIE."
"Now what have you to say" asked Jim. What
am to do; Marjorie Graydon's happiness, her life,
lies in my hands, know it. She is living for me
as She thinks ! am living for her.
What right have | to go into her home and win
her love, unless know l can give in return? Can
make her happy, l have been letting things drift
because | did not know. Can marry her without
the full conviction | had last summer? Can T..
through a lifetime, which would gladly give, blind
her to my deception Shall | tell her the truth and
break her heart, or shall | live a lifelong lie?
Shall learn, when see her, that love can bs
born again? VIII this winters doubt vanish as |
touch her lips? All, how | despise myself|
He stopped with head dropped on his breast.
And tomorrow night Jim would have to know
His mind.
In the morning he said to me with a drawn face,
Teddy, | don't know yet" In the afternoon tho
same: 81 can't tell; | don't know. I'll have to wait
until I see her"
The night was crisp and brilliant as Jim took hi,
cab. The booming cry of ~newsboys calling a special
Collision extra" fell on deaf ears.
At the corner OF Eighty-ninth Street he dismissed
the cab and walked the remaining half-block alone
A maid answered his ring, She recognized him
and started forward eagerly.