The Detroit times., 1914-06-04
CHAPTER xxx.
(Continued.)

Bitter had been the lesson; often
uring those first months after the
eparation she had wished that suf-
ering could kill. But in time, as she
ad told him, she had learned TO ac-
ept the truth without protest and
ad readjusted herself to II. She
aw no great courage in her begin
ing over again" Her simple code
creed and dogma she knew little
eQuired II. She had sinned, she had
|een punished, she must always pay,
tut that did not mean that she might
il with folded hands, repining for a
pst love, weeping for her fault. With
uch as KaZia the instinct 20 live, 10
nake OF life something fruitful, was
uncomfortable. So in the narrow
outine OF her work she had found
hat Appropriated peace. At least,
was something she did not wish to
hange. Her courage. she thought,
as unequal to new risks; she was
lad they did not offer. She wanted
My the simple, steadfast little things
hat neither lifted the soul 10 the high
laces nor racked 1t with regret and
bss.
Then she had followed Piotr hither,
lied with vague fears and PRESENT.
hents that were yet real and com
telling. More definite had been a
bnging, need, to see the work OF
hich she was hearing and had seen
he birth-and the man who wrought.
Instantly all her fine resolutions
nd philosophy had become INSULT
lent. The sight OF the river. the
woods In their autumnal glory, the
ong OF the rapids had revivitied the
Genes OF her one happiness. She had
ound him, talked with him, seen the
indling glow in his eyes. And hope,
espite her injunction, had leaped.
She did not think that there might
. some 10 see She was weeping
/ cad bowed on the bridge rail.
"Oh, | shouldn't have come. want
im-him. And | have no right TO
ave him. 1t would be the cruelest
hing | could do 10 him--even II he
Jared. ! was wrong to come"
Thus she told hope-the immortal!
lit must not live. -.
. Old Simon had no skill for il and
ence no part in the building of the
hills But he spent his days watch
big them grow Often at night, when
Bethel was sleeping. he would slip
Icross the river 10 realize again that
| fter so many years his dreams we're
|oming magnificently true. Ii was
| OF that the sneers and unbelief OF
is neighbors had been answered. He
loved the mills for themselves. To
| im they were a being with a heart
Ind a soul. With them he found a
|ompanionship he had not known
With man or woman for forty years.
That night he left his seat on the
|toop. where he had been wondering
~ but patiently awaiting the absent
Mark, and trudged down TO the river
Ind across the bridge He saw the
fgure leaning on the rail at the far
her end. but not until he was close
Bid he see 1t was that OF weeping
Woman. He would have turned aside,
int he perceived that she had heard
bum and lifted her head.
He stopped short, staring in aston
at the woman, sort that
bad never before come within his ken.
\ very wondrous sort she seemed
here in the pale glow OF the
|cung moon, even TO Simon, who all
bis lifC had dreamed Of but one wo-
man, far different from this stranger.
re saw her quickly master her sobs
After moments hesitation he
went TO her.
us anything wrong, ma'amg"
Ske shook her head.
as there anything kin do fur yer"
Again the silent gesture.
III there Is" he persisted, I'D like
TO- do il fur ye."
She found her voice. at is moth
ing" She tried to smile. Sometimes
wcmer cry for nothing, about little
things"
Some women do" Simon answered
gravely. 81 guess we're stranger
here. amt ye? I'm Simon Truitt.'
She started. you're his father"