The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1915-09-18

 could tell him everything easily, nice ly, except the truth. which was that I was bringing to another mans arms the woman whom he knew I loved. No. the blue loom of Mannfng's island gave me no joy now. 1 wished it 5000 miles away instead of thirty. I wished that almost anything might prevent my arrival-accident, delay.
 And then. in the most natural way in the world. there were both. With out much warning the pulse of our engine slackened. the throb of our sin gle screw slowed down and ceased. Williams stuck his head up out of his engine room and shouted something to Peterson. who methodica1Iy drew out his pipe and made ready for smoke.
 ''It's no use going any farther ex- piained Williams when l came up, '-,That intakes gone wrong again, and ehe's got sand all through her. It's crime to see her cut herself all to pieces this way. We've just got to stop and clean her up. that's all. and fix the job right. Ought to have done it back there before we started fn.''
 How long will it take. Williams? asked.
 "oh. don't know, sir: More than this afternooh, sure"
 That's too. bad" said I. with fair imitation of regret we had expected to make Manning island by night"
 dispatched L'Olonnois as messenger to the ladies. telling them the cause of our delay and explaining how difficult 1t was to say just When we would get in to heNisland, and then I, betook my self to gloomy pacing up and down what restricted part of the deck I felt free for my own use. I wearied of it soon and went to my cabin, trying to bead.
 At first undertook one of the mod ern novels which had been, recommend ed by my bookseller. but I found my self unable to get on with it and. standing before my shelves, took down one volume after another of philoso- phers who once were wont to comfort me-men with brains, thinking men who had done something in the world besides buying yachts and country houses. My eye caught a page which earlier I had turned down, and I read again:
 Trust myself; every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the Divine Providence has found for .you-the society of friends, the connec-
 
 ways done so and confded themselves childlike to the genius of their age. And we now are men and must . accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny, and not pfnched in a corner nor towards fleeing before revolution, but redeemers and bene- ] factors, pious saspirants to be noble clay, under the Almighty effort let us advance on chaos and the dark" ! < read the mystic. involved, subjec- tive words again, as most of the Con- cord sage'sN words require, and reflect ed how well they Jumped with the ! note of my heather Epictetus, who had said, ':Be natural and noble" And, so thinking. I began to wonder whether after all my father. whose ruthless ways I betimes had explored, whose ruthless sins I had betimes atoned, had not been perhaps a better man than sometimes I had credited him with being. He in ac&ordance with his lights had accepted the part given him by the poet of the play. . He had conf1ded himself childlike to i the genius of his age, roaring, fighting, scrambling, getting and sometimes i giving. He had trusted himself. and i in the end. bold man. he had advanc- i ed bravely on chaos and the dark. 1 Dear old governor! did not regret ] the million of his money had spent ] to restore his memory clear in my own mind, for after all it had all been in open War-that time when he unload | ed worthless mine on his friend Dan l Emory-Helena's father, Daniel Elm ory. who was at first said to have left 1 his family penniless, until a shrewd 1 lawyer in some miraculous way had i fn Scl1 Qf l full of worthless mining stock to some I innocent victim
 Helena Emory never knew of that sale, nor did her guardian aunt did know of it, for the very good reason i that I was both the shrewd lawyer 1 and the innocent purchaser. It was the last act of my professional career, 1 and it was this which caused the gen eraI report that I had made a bad min ing venture, had lost my fathers for 1 tune and retired from my career a ruined man. A few friends knew oth- erwise. and blessed the rumor which cost me certain friends who thought me poor and so forsook. me. Perhaps my father would have called me quix- l otic had he known Now as I read and pondered neither blamed him for his own course in fair business war with old Dan Emory, nor did l censure myself for my own hidden act of restitution Let the world wag it's head if 1t liked and remain ignorant i of other millions given to me before l my fathers death, upprobated, secret after the fashion of my pirate parent 1 who buried his treasures and told none but his kin how they might be found
 Of course in time it all might come out. In time Helena would know that
 lu-s .-H-- k,-
 Davidson's was my own: that the l farm I was supposed to have rented l really was a handsome estate that I owned; that many covert deeds in finance had been my own. It was only 1 my silence and my absence in many