The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1915-07-29
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peated over and over again.
Tn not saying Nary did a wise
thing In running away like this" adj
mitted Adam. TT has caused a lot of
talk-you know the kind Of women
there are in Corinth. They're bound
to say nasty things. But she would
do 1t. The only decent thing Jack Pay
SON could do was to see her through
with It. He loves her. He couldn't
do anything else"
Eric shut his paws with a snap.
Shes got me to reckon with" he
grated. She'll come back to Corinth,
or I'll know the reason why"
She'll come back II o insist, but
/ wouldn't Insist too vigorously, II ]
were you," was Adams contentious
advice. ".
The next morning. after having lis
tened for an hour or more to the bit
ter declarations OF his uncle and
aunt, Eric left the breakfast table to
redeem his promise to Joan. He had
promised to call her up on the tele-
phone the instant he arrived In Co
rinth. Other d~istracting events had
put this tender obligation out Of his
thoughts. A servant in the Bright
home informed him that Miss Joan
was out OF town and would not return
until the end Of the following week.
He was annoyed and puzzled by this
extraordinary piece Of news. Joan. in
her last letter, had said she would
be fairly hanging over the phone, wait
ing to hear his dear voice.
His appointment with John Payson
was for IL o'clock. Adam a had
arranged II, apparently without con
sulting the New Yorker.
Eric had been at Ice struck by the
changes In his uncle and Int They
were white Of hair, grey OF face, and
more than ordinarily smileless. Signs
| nf dnnn a1Iffarfnu Inv In THAR nvaC
Heavy lines marked the gaunt, ascetic
face Of his uncle: his shoulders dropped
far more han his rigid, upright figure
might have suggested. He looked a
man Of rs. instead Of SO or 81. Mrs.
Blagdsn's hair was perfectly white. A
Of far OF girlhood's gentleness-had
come into her face. Her voice was soft
and charged with a curiously vibrant
note, altogether unfamiliar to Eric,
whose strongest recollection was OF
sharp, incisive tones that bore no re-
lation to love.
She moved with a certain listness-
ness, and yet there was ever the un-
DERIVING suggestion of a~lertness, Of
eagerness. He observed that she never
passed the grim old hall clock with
out glancing at its face; for an in
slant her manner suggested the atti-
tude of n listening-just a fitting
im~pression-as II she were trying to
catch a sound not distinguishable to
other ears. Her somber black dress
bore no touch Of color save the ivory
cross that hung suspended from her
neck at the end of a string of heavy
Jet beads.
He had told them that he did not
hold them responsible for the step
Mary had taken, and they seemed
grateful. Something in the manner OF
these uncompromising natures gave
him to understand that they had soft
ened, at least toward him; that the
steel edge had worn away; that visit
full, hungry hearts were being laid bare
that he might see them plainly and
forget not to touch them gently.
Il shall bring her back, Aunt Rena,'
he had said.
"She will be welcome, Eric" said his
aunt, and he was surprised by the Sim-
pie appeal that went with the words.
I'VE acted ~ we thought best II we
were wrong-well, W. cannot always
be right, try as we may"
They tell me that Joan Is away
from home" he said, on his return
from the telephone.
His uncle was standing at the win
dow, looking out over h wet lawn,
a gaunt, frail figure, poignant with re-
serve. ..
Horace turned. She's Off on a cruise
with young Sallonsby and his party"
"~Sallonsby? You don't mean the Sal
lonsbys, Of Boston,"
Paul Sallonsby. I think you knew
him at Cambridge. He has come into
a fortune. His father died a year and
a half ago. leaving $2,000,00 and over
to each of his children. Paul has been
seeing a great deal Of Joan, l hear. He
has taken a party to the West Indies
They left last week." added Mrs.
Blagden. His yacht was in the har-
Dor here for two days" .
Eric was dazed. He could hardly
believe his ears. Joan had not men
toned young Sallonsby in any Of her
letters, nor had she spoken OF a con
templated cruise. II was more than
strange that she should go away at
the very time he was expected home.
A dull pain assailed him. What did
IL mean? Was 1t possible-but no!
She could not be anything but constant.
her eyes. And yet, she had zone away.
Vaguely dismayed-in addition to the
depression that was already upon him,
he wandered UP and down the hall,
through the dim parlor and sitting
room, torn by many emotions. The
prim rooms, so unlike those to which he
had become accustomed in Paris and
elsewhere. seemed to be narrower, more
/ confined han before he went away.
They appeared to shrink in size, even
as he stood In them, the walls draw
ing closer about him, the ceiling com
ing down as IL driven by a great, slow
moving press. An atmosphere of op-
pressiveness surrounded him. All the
brightness seemed to have been swept
out of life. Something dead pervaded
the house, from top to bottom.
The same damask sofas and chairs
stood In their accustomed places in the
parlor. The brussels carpet, with the
big, well-remembered pattern, lay be-
meath his feet. as new as the day II
was first put down, Is years ago. The
old portraits IL oil paintings still
hung suspended by silken picture cords,
relics OF ar obsolete grandeur. Over
by the window which looked out upon
the front yard and the street at the
bottom of the knoll stood q chair that
somehow was out Of place in his mem
DRY. II was drawn up close to the side
OF the window. n faced the light
though screened from outer view by
the heavy, immaculate lace curtains
that always had been there.
Immaculate7 He crossed over, struck
by an unusual aspect. One of the cur
tains hung straight and prim, but the
other, next to the chair, was slightly
crumpled, even soiled along the inner
edge.
A careful hand had been drawing II
aside for years! Every day someone