Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1916-08-31

along the edge OF the ravine. Then
he turned his back upon 1t all.
Forget it!'' that vas the admoni-
tion Of practical Jerry Gowan Yes
he would do that. The thing was done
with, but there was an aching void
at heart, not so much OF disappoint-
ment as because the memory Of the
incidents he had grouped to form the
screed were still cherished as lovely
bits OF naturaIness and suggestion
that he would have loved to exploit.
His rest was broken that night. and
he oversight the next morning. just
as he arrived of his accustomed res
taurant he found Rourke Vivian. The
latter sat drumming his fingers on
the table before him. as though he
had been there for some time.
Wanted to see you, Moore" with
casual manner obviously affected.
You stirred me--some" He laughed
mirthlessly. THAT screed Of yours
! couldn't get 1t out OF my mind all
night
1T didn't seem to impress you much
when read itlv observed Moore, quite
spicily.
I'm not given TO wearing my heart
on my sleeve, as you ought to know"
retorted Vivian grayely. ut hit me
hard You know / came from the
cider country and you've caught its
spirit famously. Bring me those
pages, win you? can do something
with them as starter. In fact, you
want to go on with them"
you are in earnest2" challenged
Moore, forgetting breakfast
Very much 30"
"Tll try to nee you some time this
afternoon" spoke Moore fiutteringly.
and bolted.
There was but one thought in his
mind--to recover the abandoned man
uscript With eagerness and rapid
ity he reached the spot where he had
scattered tho leaves IN desperation.
He climbed down into the ravine. He
searched In vain. Moore could not
find trace OF the sheets. He climbed
up an incline. the top OF which was
lined by hedge. to rest and think.
He had kept no copy OF the screed
nor had he preserved the original
notes. Could he reproduce itf Not
in its original freshness. he discon-
solateIy decided. He fell into
dreamy maze.
Whist was THAR Quite doing.
Moore started up. From the other
side Of the hedge a sweet. mellow
voice was reading. He could scarce
credit the evidence OF his senses--the
last sentences Of his screedi
Moore peered through the hedge.
An old gentleman and a lovely young
girl occupied rustic chairs. and tho
girl held in her hands the lost sheets
Of hts manuscript.
The old man was wiping his eyes.
His voice was full OF emotion as he
spoke.
Read Il all over again, Angela It
Is exQnisite." and the girl did 20
Moore thrilled 10 listen TO that voice
resraveraing bis poor composition
1T Il like a sweet breath from the
pasti" murmured tho old man. Who
could have written M How came II
here7"
1T is like a letter from home, isn't
II. dearf" smiled the girl. II found
two OF the leaves llttering the ravine
walk; read them. was interested and
gathered up the rest. Why. grandpa.
whoever wrote 1t must have lived In
and loved the dear old cider countryl"
IL has taken me back TO the old
homel" sighed the old man. II wish
| knew the writer"
Adrian Moore disclosed himself. He
could not resist the Impulse. oh. what
was the vague, casual opinion Of his
casual newspaper friends TO the heart
felt appreciation of these new &C
quRintancesl
Before he left these latter, the
wealthy old man had his promise that
he would az once so on with the story
OF the cherished "cider country"
Vivian listened to the exploits Of
Moore with an indulgent smile.
Found patron and an helresa,
chr" he observed, well. accept the
gifts OF the gods gratefully"
Which Adrian Moore did-with fame
and the pure, sweet love OF Angela
Marston concurrent.