The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1916-04-03

'Iap,'' cried, "are you il1?' He did
not answer, but looked at me with the
most hopeless expression 1 had ever
seen. Surely, now that you know I
didn't - you you don't hate me?''
Drawing me hastily into a little Office
near where we were standing, he said
passionately:
Hate you, dearest! The only hate in
my heart is for myself. I have known
you were innocent ever since 1 finish
ed that vile TRADE and you looked up
at melt was just moment, but it
was enough. I knew the truth
rushed after you, but when halfway
across the room the door closed, and
heard the key turned. Whoever had
been listening had locked me in.
called to you. I pounded on the door,
rang frantically, but it was all use
less. When the attack began II feared
some awful thing might happen and
should never be able to tell you, to beg
! your forgiveness. / was beside myself
In desperation, I broke through the
window and got out on the little bal
cony in the mad hope Of attracting the
attention of some one who might find
you I was still there when the final
charge began
Weren't they glorious, superb, your
Indians
FHThey are as brave as the bravest,"
he replied. II love every brown face
Of them. But oh, Adele, I was too
heartsfck at that moment to care very
much one way or the other. VIII you
ever be able to forget, dearest, the
things 1 said? Can a lifetime of devo-
ton ateneP'
He paused, waiting for an answer.
1 tried hard to think of the right thing
to say, but it was hopeless. Looking
upNtnto his eyes, all the wells were lift
ed from my own, and for an instant
felt my very soul was barred to him.
In spite of his long illness. he had
strength enough, left to crush me in his
arms. felt his heart beating furious
ly against my own, which sounded in
my ears like distant cannonading. He
kissed me again and again, while L
chung to him as though I feared the
next moment was to separate us for
ever.
The next day we went to Paris, and
although the train was an hour late,
Ian's father and mother were waiting
for u.s. 1 was still wearing my Red
Cross uniform, which, of course was
old and[worn, and 1 rather dreaded
meeting them.
We were the last to pass through the
station gate, but they had been watch
ing us for several seconds. Ian kissed
his mother, who said quite calmly, but
with little catch in her voice Its
so good to see you again, my boy"
The father and son shook hands, and
neither spoke, but their handcIasp last
ed many seconds. And then Lady L.
stopped and kissed me. The father
looked at me searchingly, but kindly,
then, holding both my hands, said,
swell, for at least once in my life
am not disappointed"
1 was so happy that longed to kiss
this dear woman who had given my
Ian life. but 1 was afraid. English
women, I had always heardt were so
cold. But, yielding to an impulse, 1
timidly kissed her on the cheek. In
moment her arms were about me.
At LUNCH we discussed our immedi-
ate plans. Ian wished to be married
at once, and Lord L. in a very matter
OF fact way said, with men being kill
ed off like flies, he thought the sooner
we were married the better.
And SO it was settled. We were
married in Paris, crossed the channel
| and quietly slipped through London
home.
The days that followed were perfect,
the weather was lovely, green trees,
coming spring and happiness making
Ian quite well again.
Several weeks later after had final
1y decided to give up nursing Ian ex-
pressed a desire to visit Meirut hos
p1taI in Boulogne, where several of his
Indians were i'll, and we had passed
through the big wards and stopped in
one Of the smaller ones to speak to a
wounded Sikh when the nurse lifted the
basket arrangement used to cover
wounded limbs and exposed a terribly.
shattered leg. had seen a hundred
worse cases, but in an instant L felt
myself going, everything swan before
me, and then all was black. The nurse
instantly put a piece of cotton soaked
with alcohol to my nostrils, and Ian
carried me out into the air. I was my
self again in a few minutes, and after
making our adieus we set out in a
closed cab for our hotel. Ian was si-f
lent for a time; then he said very ten
derfy:
Don't you think, dear, you had bet
ter see a doctor before e>1eave Bou-
logne?"
L I0lG@Lu0 cOiOI' COu1C 10 Ivy caGGkSS
but I turned my face to him and we
looked into each others eyes solemnIy
q moment, and then out of sheer joy
Of it all we laughed like two children.
He caught me in his arms and kissed
rae, until lay stilled and quiet against
his heart. Outside the rain dripped
and splashed against the windows of
the stuffy old cab. But then, Ait seems
| to me, it is always raining in Boulogne.
| THE END.