The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1916-11-23

w AN&NV ~ ttAC - M &&OA - 49,
must never know what she had gone
through to save them from disgrace
n loss Of fortune-disgrace, or
course, being the first n greatest.
She had feared that George would let
them see through his veneer of man
ners, and leave them troubled, but he
had made q better appearance than
she had hoped.
Ten years had made a great change In
him than she had expected. He really
a not been so bad as her conjured
image of him.
Then a sudden desire to look at him
against seized her, to know once for all
just how he really did seem. She would
not want to notice him awake any
more than she could help, nor dare.
lest he presume upon her sudden in
terest, to act as If he had never Of
Tended; but IL she should look at him
now as he lay asleep she might study
his face and see what h really had to
expect.
again. but finally 1t gained complete
possession of her, and she drew back
the curtain once nor
He was lying just as quietly as be-
fore. His heavy hair, a little disor-
dered on the pillow. gave him a noble.
interesting appearance. He did not
seem at all a fellow Of whom to be
| al dlu. IL was llCEG ulplO lL0S iS COulC
have written those letters.
She tried to trace in his features a
likeness to the youth Of 10 years ago,
whom she had known when she was
but a little girl, who had tied her
braids to her chair, and put raw
oysters and caterpillars down her back.
or stretched invisible cords to trip her
feet in dark places: who mad her
visits to a beloved uncle-whom he
also had the right to call uncle.
though he was no cousin of hers-a
long list Of catastrophes resulting in
tears; who had never failed to mortify
her on all occasions possible, and once
-. But the memories were too hor-
rible as they crowded one upon an
other! Let them be forgottenl
She watched the face before her
keenly. critically, yet she could see no
trace Of any such character as she had
imagined the boy George must have
developed as a man; of which his let
ters had given her ample proof. This
mans a was finely cut and sensi-
tive. There was nothing coarse or
selfish In its lines. The long, dark
~eyelashes lay above dark circles of
WEAKNESS, n gave that look of boy
fshness that always touches the ma
ternal chord In q woman's heart.
George used to have q puffy, self in
dulgent look under his eyes even when
he was a boy. She q imagined from
his last photograph hat he would be
much ~stouter, much more bombastic:
but. then, In his sleep, perhaps those
things fell from a man.
She tried to turn away indifferently,
but something in his face held her. She
studied 1t. If he had been any other
man, n stranger, she would have
said from looking at him critically that
kindness and generosity( self respect
and respect for women, were written
all over the face before her. There
was fine, firm modelling about the lips
n the clean shaven chin and about
the forehead the look almost of a
scholar; yet she thought she knew the
man before her to be none of these
things. How deceptive were looks!
She would probably be envied rather
than pitied by all who saw her. Well.
perhaps that was better. She could
the easier keep her trouble to herself.
But stay, what was there about this
man that seemed different? The
smooth face? Yes. She had the dim
impression that last night he wore a
mustache. She must have been mis-
taken, OF course. She had only looked
at him when absolutely necessary, and
her brain was in such q whirl; but still
there seemed to be something different
about him.
Her eyes wandered to the hand that
10Y oSiooo Iio pItdSl. 1T Was the Tire
white hand of the professional man.
the kind Of hand that somehow at
tracts the eye with a sense of clearness
n strength. There was nothing
flabby about 1t. George as a bow used
to have big, stumpy fingers and nails
cheWed down to the quick. She could
remember how h used to hate to look
at them when h was a little girl, and
yet somehow could not keep her ewes
away. She saw with relief that the
nails on this hand were well shaped
n well cared for.
He looked very, handsome and at
racive as he lay there. The sun shot
one OF Its early daring bolts of light
across his hair as the train turned in
its course and lurched northward
around a curve. 1t glinted there for q
moment, like a miniature ~searchlighr.
travelling over the head, showing nm
every wave and curve. He had the
kind or hair which makes a woman's
hand instinctively long to touch IL.
Cella wondered at the curious
thoughts that crowded through her
mind, knowing that all the while there
was the consciousness that when this
\ man should wake she would think Of
nothing but his hateful as
h had known 1t through the years.
And she was his wifei How strangei
How terrible! How impossible to live
VAIH shS hou6ut rOu lnterminabl0
weary years! oh, that she might dis
at once before her strength failed and
her mother found out her sorrow!
n lay back again on her pillows
very still and tried to think, but some
how a pleasant image Of him, her bus-
band, fingered In her memory. Could
1t be possible that she would ever sea
anything pleasant in him? Ever en-
dure the days Of his companionship ?
Ever come to the point where she
could overlook his outrageous con-
duct toward her, forgive him. and
he even tolerant of him? Sbarn
memories crowded upon her. and the
smart n echoing In her heart,
mo, no, 1000 times, mol" She had
paid his price n gained REDEMPTION
for his own. but-forget what he had
done? Neverl. ~
The long strain Of WEAKNESS, and the
monotony OF the onrushing train, Iulled
her half into unconsciousness again.
n the man on the couch slumbered
on. ~
He came to himself suddenly, with all
his senses on the alert, as the thumping
| nOiSa and motion re tbn