The Meridian times. (Meridian, Idaho) 1909-1938, 1917-11-16

lng7 Death for him might be begin
ming only, door 10 eternity, but all
the philosophy and hope OF his faith
did not fill his empty human arms.
That night he walked the London
streets until dawn.
| He came back from Oxford at the
end Of his course there. Home was
calling, and work, blessed work, that
brings forgetfulness.
on the last Sunday before he sailed
he attended service IN Saint PauI's. He
knew the church well. In those earlier
days when philosophy had taken his
young brain by storm and his faith
had rocked, he had gone to Saint
Paul's. Something in the very solidlty
Of the old church, In its antiquity, In
| the nearness Of those dead-and-gone
! great ones of the earth who had lived
and died secure in his teachings, had
steadled him.
And now, when 1t was his heart that
failed, and not his soul, he went there.
Il was there that he found Ellnor.
She was just IN front Of him, In the
prlm garb of an English army nurse.
And II was no resemblance that reused
| his first interest. What he saw was
only a slender girl, kneeling and evil
IDENTIFY in tears. She was very thin
he saw that, and her shoulders heayed
conyulsively. But as the service went
on she grew quieter When she rose
from her knees at last, she was quite
calm
II was then that he knew her.
Ward watched her with an ache In
his throat. She looked frail, sad. Al
ways In his mind he had pictured her
In her summer garden, flower herself
among her flowers, or as she had
looked that night In old Hllary's IL
brary, the night when, to save him,
she had told him the shameful truth
about herself. And now he found her
here, wearing the garb Of service and
on her kneesI
So fearful was he Of losing her that
he stayed close as the congregation
moved slowly out of the church. She
did not intend to go he saw that. She
stepped out of the crowd and waited.
He thought 1t probable that she was
seeking what he himself had once
sought--a quiet hour under holy roof.
And so 1t was that they came face to
face again. She put her hand to her
throat, with the familiar gesture, when
she saw him. For moment neither
Of them spoke. The ordinary greetings
were out Of place, and what was there
to say?
1t was Ward who spoke at last.
sit doesn't seem quite possible, Eli
nor" he said.
| She had never been "Elinor" to him
save In his thoughts. But neither of
them noticed.
Il am sorry you have found me.
have tried 50 hard to bury myself"
II was increasingly hard for him to
speak, All the things that had lain in
his heart for three years clamored for
speech.
"You are--qulte well againT"
| Perfectly Bur your You are thin
ner."
II have worked hard and, of course,
have suffered. 1t was not easy--to
tear myself away from the few friends
/ had"
And then, at last, he broke into
speech, rapid, incoherent. He blamed
himself for his hardness that night In
old Hilary's library, he condemned him
self for thousand things. She lis
tened, rather bewildered, with the old
usefulness in her eyes.
"Why should you say such things y
she asked at last, when he stopped
from sheer panic. "You were right. |
was criminal. have been learning
things since then. You were always
kind to me. have never forgotten"
Kind" He almost groaned.
She held out her hand. 81 must 90
now. MY time is not my own" She
glanced down at her uniform. 'Do you
remember what you said to me once
about the brotherhood OF manP have
been trying to live up to that"
Ward took her hand. 1t was very
cold.
"Do you remember thatY
Il remember almost everything you
told me. Even the things, that night
while l was watching the clock. re.
member them ALL"
The church was empty, save for q
verger here and there, busy about his
! duties. Quite suddenly Ward lost his
! compOsure.
"And III remember everything too
Your smile, your eyes that night wher
was carried into the house-oh, my
dear, my dear, you are written on m,
: heart"
!, He bent over, shaken and pale, anC
! kissed the palm of her hand.
ut Is you who are good" he sale
huskily. II, who talked smugly of vlr
9 tue and tenderness and pity, and WHIT
! let You so out Of my llfe--I care 10
: you more than l care for anything II
! this world. want you'll want you.
Elinor's eyes turned toward the higl
l altar with Its cross. Always, when shl
looked at It, she had seen the cross a
{ Saint Jude's and the dawn, and spar
u rows drinking ont of the wet gutter A