Evening star., 1915-03-21

sight of God, and in the face of this COM
pany, to join together this man and this
woman in holy matrimony, which is an
honorable estate"
Somehow, someway, it was at last all
over The guests were gone, the bride and
bridegroom were gone Needham was re-
turning to his own part of the country.
The place that had known him for little,
interesting while knew him no more. The
bride left her girls home with no backward
glance. And Florence that night sat beside
her white-headed father and read to him
till he drowsed in his chair, praying all the
while that she would make patient reader
through all the interminable evenings that
were to come.
The next morning she wrote to Robert
Olden, who was in the Far West:
1t was glorious wedding, dear Bob Never
in this world of sickening moderation have
seen such joy 1t was Greek. l longed to be
god and to arrest them there in their perfect
hour and hold them so, to cheer heavy world.
But they are gone, and am trying to bring
order to house long in confusion. There is
much to do, and l am glad.
Do you like it in the West? Something al
ways is happening there, isn't it? Here nothing
will ever happen again. think. l cannot tell
you how curious everything seems to me-so
usual and hopelessly expected. find myself
incapable of imagining any happy surprise.
But all that does not keep me from hoping
that happy surprises will come to you, and that
you will yet rejoice in life. Do not blame my lit
tie sister for what she has done. She was quite
right to grasp her glory with both her lovely
hands, Would you have wanted reluctant
kissesa No, no, no, no! The thought sckens
one to the soul! l can see that all is best as it
is. Cannot you?
Dear Bob. accept the enduring good wishes of
your old playmate, FLORENCE CoPLEy.
MOT quite three years later Robert
~ Olden, returning from heavy work and
that loneliness that grows upon man in
the waste places of the earth, found Florence
Copley, save for the presence of an elderly
companion, alone in her home. Her father
was dead. She occupied herself with her
well ordered house, served on the board of
public nursery, and presided over travel
class for working girls. Her face seemed to
have gained in its aspect of gentle restraint;
but she was not too serious, and in no wise
dull. An atmosphere of whimsical patience
pervaded her. Little moods and caprices
stirred beneath her quiet surface like min
noWS beneath the surface of a stream. In
her own way, Robert Olden discovered, she
was enjoying her life.
He found it exceedingly pleasant to
spend his evenings with her and the de-
vout Episcopalian aunt who shared her
dwelling.
81 used to sit before my tent out there
on the desert" he told Florence, "and WON
der what ladies were like. couldn't seem
to remember how their voices sounded, or
what they talked about. They seemed like
vague, unreal beings"
"And now you see that they talk about
church guilds and cassocks for choir boys"
said Florence smiling at her aunt.
Mrs. Denham, the companion, took
no offense. "'rhey have other topics of
conversation, she retorted. 81 find that
some of them talk chiefly about steril-
lied milk for washerwomen's babies :"
This was her innocuous fling at her niece's
Ueche!
Robert settled down in his chair with
an inexplicable feeling Of comfort What
mild, perfumed little jests!-modifed, like
the milk. He thought of the boisterous
joking at the railway camp, of the wild
outlaws that followed, of the illnesses, the
accidents, the outbreaks of crime and he
knew himself for a man sick for his own
l 4