The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1917-07-27

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Would Not Be Better to End 1t
Than to Live.
over the grave of the old engineer Life
had seemed to hold absolutely moth
ing for Meade as he knelt by that low
mound and watched the woman walk
slowly away with many a backward
glance, with many a pause, obviously
reluctant. He realized that the lifting
of hand would have called her back.
How hard it was for him to remain
quiet; and, finally, before she disap-
peared and before she took her last
look at him, to turn his back resolutely
as if to mark the termination Of the
situation.
Father, fame, reputation, love, taken
away at one and the same moment! A
weaker man might have sent life to fol-
low. In the troubled days after the
fall of the bridge, his fathers death,
the inquests, his testimony and evil
dence freely given, and that parting,
something like despair had filled the
young engineers heart. Life held moth
ing. He debated with himself whether
1t would not be better to end it than
to live 1t. He envied his father his
broken heart. Singularly enough, the
thing that made life at least value
was the thing that kept him from
throwing it away-the woman.
Striving to analyze the complex
emotions that centered about his losses
he was forced to admit, although 1t
seemed a sign of weakness, that love
of woman was greater than love Of
fame, that in the balance one girl out
weighed bridge and father. That the
romance was ended was what made
life insupportable. Yet the faint, vague
possibility that it might be resumed if
he could find some way to show his
Pworthiness was what made him cling
to it.
OF course he could have showed
without much difficulty and beyond
peradventure at the inquest over Alb
bott and the investigation into the
cause Of the failure Of the bridge-un-
fortunate but too obvfous-that the
frightful and fatal error in the design
was not his and that he had protested
against the accepted plan, if only he
had found the letter addressed to his
father. But that he would never do
and the letter had not been discovered
anyway. he did not even regret the
bold faLsehood he had uttered or the
practical subornation of perjury Of
which he had been guilty in drawing
out and accepting and emphasizing
Shurtliffs testimony.
There had been no inquest over his
fathers death. The autopsy had
showed clearly heart failure. He had
not been compelled to 60 on the witness
stand and under oath as to that. Al
though, If that had been demanded, he
must needs have gone through with it.
Indeed so prompt and public had been
hfs avowals of responsibility that he
had not been seriously questioned
thereon. He had left nothing uncer-
tain. There was nothing concealed.
He had inherited competence from
klIo lutACIs IL was luuScu
than he or anyone had expected. He
had realized enough ready money from
the sale Of certain securities for his
present needs. The remainder he
placed in Shurtliff's care and a few
days after the funeral, having settled
everything possible, he took train for
the West.
The whole world was before him,
and he was measurably familiar with
many portions Of 1t. He could have
buried himself in out-of-the-way cor
ners of far countries, in strange CONT
nents. These possibilities did not at
tract him. He wanted to get away
from. out Of touch with, the life he had
led. He wished to 60 to some place
where he could be practically alone,
where he could have time to recover
his poise, to think things out, to plan
his future, to try to devise means for
rehabilitation, If it were possible. He
could do that just as well, perhaps bet
ter, In America than In any place else.