The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1918-01-01

lite course. / am going to depart from
the house this hour and leave you to
your own devices"
"You are going away7" she uttered,
but only slightly aroused out of her
customary GOODNESS. "You will not re-
turnY
"Never."
Her stepfather drew an envelope
from his pocket. He extended 1t to-
wards her.
81 have made over this property to |
you;% he said, ''and when you see my |
lawyer he will advise you as to a GER
tain amount you will receive each |
month. AS to your brothers, they must
shift for themselves. have done my
full duty by all of you. The burden
Of your extravaganza, the lack of any
consideration on your part is crushing
me. GoOd-by."
She nodded her head carelessly and
with eager eyes traversed the docu-
ment she had taken from the envelope.
A single sigh escaped the man for
whom she had never shown the slight
est affection. Then he set his lips
sternly and left the house.
What was there left to live for he
asked himself, and could not answer.
| He took with him few thousand dol
lars, all that was left of the fortune
he had once possessed. In measure
certain relief was realized as he left
the vicinity of his former home, and a
few hours later the city.
Whittier should he go? He had no
relatives, few friends. BY what freak
Of fancy or vague influence of purpose
Arthur Wayne felt himself drawn back
to his native village, he did not seek
to comprehend. All that was left to
| him was old time memories. He reach
ed his boyhood's home. Like some
restless wrath de wandered about the
little town to find 1t strange and
changed. No one recognized him, and
his spirits were too low to have him
seek to remind those who had forgot
ten him Of acquaintanceship in the
past years.
All the time, however, somehow the
central figure in his mind was girl
he had known thirty years ago. She
had waved him good-by In tears from
the railroad platform the suspicious
day when he had left to seek his for
tune In the great city. How clearly
that fair face returned to his memory
How lovely It still seemed: after the
lapse of the yearsi He took chair
next to that occupied by the proprietor
of the hotel where he had registered,
the morning after his arrival. He ask
ed him some questions. The replies
made Wayne sadder than before.
He learned that Edna Burrows had
never married. She had died five years
agone, the good angel Of the village.
She had adopted a sweet little orphan
child who had been the solace of
her lonely years, and Gladys Martin
now lived In the old home with maid
en- lady who was bOarder.
"a good girl, worthy girl, this
Gladys" the garrulous hotel keeper
told Wayne. "And engaged to-a model
of young man, one Bert Whiting,
who Is working diligently to accumu-
late sufficient to support wife,"
1t seemed like treading on sacred
ground to Wayne. as he entered the
gateway of the home where he had
first known Edna Burrows. There was
the same vine empowered porch. In
the garden, grown to a titan now, the
great beech tree with the rustic bench
beneath which he and Edna had often
sat. A strange peace spread over his
spirit. The front door was open. He
! knocked, once, twice. No one respond.
, ed. Wayne advanced and tapped on
an inside door. No one answered the
summons. He looked into the room
). beyond and stood transfixed.
Upon the wall was a steel plate
framed portrait Of himself. He recog
nized 1t as one that had been published
, In magazine at the time he'had beer
elected president of city trade ex
change. Nearby was faded photo
r graph Of Edna Burrows, as she hat
3 been when she was girl. A footsteI
. sounded, young girl humming {
: cheerful tone, came tripping down thu
!. | hall. She halted in surprise, but said
al II was in the garden and did no
. hear you knock. VIII you be seated?'
: and then she started and mutely gazet
0 from the visitor to the portrait on thu
q wall.
3 Arthur Wayne had no need to tel
Gladys Martin who he was. For owe
4 an hour he sat as In a dream, listening
t to the soul condolences of the swee
0 voiced hostess, revealing to him tina
i all through the years he had been t.
r dead Edna Burrows a fond, cherished
Q link Of the past. Gladys told Wayne
how her foster mother had kept trac'
|. of his advancing career In the city
8 proud Of him, silently worshiping a
the shrine of the love she had neve
|. confessed,
4 1t was within the week that Arthu
/ Wayne grew into a strange period o
coma and restfulness. He visited thi
q peaceful shrine daily. One day h
opened up his plans, his hopes, to tn
9 sympathetic Gladys. He was homeless
+ and lonely. He told her he wished t.
Q turn over to her the little remnant O
his fortune, and, when she married
e tarry with herself and her husband TO
: the rest of his days.
q One morning Gladys came into thu
d room where Wayne loved to pass hi
d time. She noted that he was facinl
y the picture of her foster mother, ant
that there was a strange, peaceful
smile upon his white face He wal
dead. The weary soul was at rest a
last. She moved to the windows ant
stood there, her emotion overpowerint
her, her eyes blinded with tears. Amit
the holy calm Of the moment she seem
ed to be conscious of fiuttering spiri
filling the room and then vanishing t
some ethereal realm.
A lark came to the windows to feas
upon the crumbs scattered there. Sud
denly 1t spread it's wings and SCARED
aloft. Her gaze followed 1t. Straigh
into the face Of the golden sun it wing
ed its flight. To her mental view thu
soul Of the dead man was thus soaring
to a new life. The bird became mere
4 81 = u nrtf