The Huttig news., 1917-08-25

us II iie were liipTeSSllS OH HIS lneIi- ory every light and shadow of her face; every line of her straight young figure. Then he went out into that darkest hour of the night that pre- cedas the dawn.
 For the first time since his injury Wards mind was quite clear. He had not been able to sleep, and the nurse had been reading to him. Strange read ing, too, for the assistant rector of Saint Jude's. The books old Hilary had kept on his bedside still lay there.
 Even the nurse, accus .omed to many books for many men, was gently outraged.
 Ward lay in his bed, his eyes half closed, listening intently. At last the nurse put down the book.
 "Why, it's frightful, it's outrageous, it's blasphemous Do you really think I should read you any more of them?"
 Ward smiled feebly.
 'If you are afraid of the effect on you.'
 Not at all," said the nurse almost sharply, and picked up the book again
 Ward lay back on his pillows and listened to the age-old arguments.
 So it was on such literature as this that Elinor had been reared How dark And as the nurse droned on, Ward came to realize how natural and how inevitable had been her develop ment. Reared In such soil, what might he himself not have become; and more than that, would he have been One-half so sweet, so tender, so-goodi i
 Toward dawn the nurse slept in her chair. Her cap had fallen a little crooked, and the beautifying hand of sleep had touched away the small fur rows between her eyes. Plain she was, but kindly and full of gentleness. Ward lying awake, watched her. She was nc longer very young. He thought of the children who should have clung to her broad, Hat bosom and felt the touch of her tender hand.
 Then, because, curiouSly enough everything of gentleness and tender. ness reminded him of Elinor, his thoughts swung round to her. He closed his eyes, and dreamed the dream that had been with him, sub- consciously, all the night. To take her in his arms, and by teaching her love, teach her infinite love: by showing mercy and forgiveness and great ten 1erness. to lead her by these. His at. ri tn tn fhn u,,fe.Y yJ,; lf dream.
 And because it brought hope and healing and great peace, after time ne slept. Elinor, standing alone in the house outside his door, took courage from his even breathing and ventured in. So light was his sleep that she Jared not touch him. She knelt very quietly by the bed, and kissed the cor aer of his pillow.
 sA
 Ward spent his Sabbatical year in Oxford. He had thought to find peace by exchanging one form of activity fol another, but with the less arduous du. ties of his work there he had more time to think. He found the old pain
 
 him. In the three years since Elinor's flight he had done many things. He had left Nottingham for New York, and could feel his usefulness now enly bounded by his strength.
 But the old zest of life was gone. He was restless, heavier of spirit. There had been times when he had thought hot hn .I; cover, through stray resemblance while his heart pounded and his blood raced, that his forgetting was only the numbness of suffering.
 Once, on the Strand in London. he came face to face with Boroday. Ward would never forget that meeting, It's quick hope which died into the old ache at Boroday's words.
 T have not seen her. he said. q am always looking. Perhaps she is wise, to break with us all. Still, we loved her. I have never married, and she was like my own child"
 He had taken clerkship in Lon- don. he said. While, of course. he did not say so. Ward read between his words that he was done with the old life for good. He held out his hand and the Russian took it.
 "If I hear anything" Boroday said, "Ill let you know. Once or twice she wrote me; from Liverpool once, after she landed, and again from here Then the police closed up the Dago's place, which was the only way she knew to reach me. I've never heard since"
 'Then you think she may be in Eng land?" Ward asked eagerly.
 The Russian shrugged his shoulders.
 Perhaps, if she is living. She was not strong. Sometimes 1 wonder"
 So, after all, Ward took an extra pang away with him from the chance meeting. What if, after all, his watch ing and waiting meant nothing2 If she were gone, beyond earthly find- ing? Death for him might be begin ming only, a door to 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.
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