The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1917-10-26

face; every line of her straight young
figure. Then he went out into that
darkest hour Of the night that pre-
cedes 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, accustomed 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 blasphemousl Do you really think
should read you any more Of them? p
Ward smiled feebly.
eff 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
fair plant to have grown thus In the
dark! And as the nurse droneG 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-good?
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 no
longer very young. He thought of the
children who should have clung to her
broad, fiat 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, SUBJ
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
derness, to lead her by these. His at
tribute, to the Christ-this was his
dream.
And because 1t brought hope and
healing and great peace, after time
he 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
dared not touch him. She kneit very
quietly by the bed, and kissed the cor
ner of his pillow.
. .
Ward spent his Sabhatical- year In
Oxford. He had thought to find peace
by exchanging one form of activity for
another, but with the less arduous du
ties of his work there he had more
time to think. He found, the old pain
even greater; his restlessness grew on
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
only 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
that he was forgetting, only to dis
cover, through a 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, its
quick hope which died into the old
ache at Boroday's words.
81 have not seen her." he said. Il
am always looking. Perhaps she is
wise, to break with us all. Still, we
loved her. 1 have never. married, and
she was like my own child"
He had taken a 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 1 hear anything" Boroday said,
"Tll 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 I 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 nothing? If
she were gone, beyond earthly find
ing? Death for him might be a begin
ming only, 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.
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 Pauls. 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 solidity
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
steadied him.
And now, when 1t was his heart that
failed, and not his soul, he went there.
1t was there that he found Elinor.
She was just in front of him, in the
prIm garb of an English army nurse.
And It was no resemblance that reused