The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1918-08-03


a soft humming sound down the
smooth road, aud its sole occupant
was sitting with her hands in her lap,
looking dreamity our ut the landscape
and the rows Of houses that they
passed. Many 21e passing by on the
sidewalk might have envied the lovely
young woman who sat there, so slen-
der and aristocratic, in the little brown
car, but she herself was not even con-
scious of the looks, whether envious or
admiring, that were cast in her direc-
ton.
If, as the poets say, "the eyes are
mirrors Of the soul" then it was very
apparent that Elaine Hargrave was
not happy, for the sad, far-away ex-
preston on her face told its own story
AS the machine turned the corner of
the street, however, she began to take
more interest in her surroundings, and
she watched carefully the houses she
passed.
Suddenly she leaned forward and
spoke to the chauffeur.
"Stop, jacques" she commanded,
sharply, sat the house To Let"
The brakes ground sharply, and
Elaine stepped out at once. She
looked again and drew In her breath
quickly. A wave Of crimson flooded
her face. The chauffeur wondered at
the sudden order, for they were al
ready late for dinner, and he did not
think that his mistress could possibly
want to look at this empty house.
The glory Of a perfect spring day
a day to tempt anyone to remain In
the open, and drink In to the full the
beauties of bOuntiful nature, but evil
IDENTIFY this did not attract the girl,
for she mounted the steps Of the house
at once.
She looked around at Jacques after
she had rung the bell. swat till I
come out" she said.
A slovenly-lOOking woman suddenly
appeared in response to her ring. She
was as dusty looking. somehow, as the
house was, and quite as detected look
ing; but Elaine scarcely saw her as
she spoke:
II want to see the house." said the
girl. II suppose I can go in?'
"Well, It's gettin' pretty late, mum.
and I don't think as you'd be SEEM
much" replied the old woman.
"You can give me your candle" said
Elaine, Quickly, as she slipped coin
Into the not over clean hand, and with
a little gasp, the woman yielded.
The front door was opened and
Elaine went through the passage and
glided upstairs like ghost the woman
promptly returning to the lower re-
gions, whence she had come. Light
ing the dirty candle from a gas jet
burning in the passageway, Elaine went
from one room to another with quick,
nervOas haste. Her face was quite
colOrless, but her eyes burned with a
feverish light that made her seem very
different from the brilliant lady of
fashion that most people knew as
Elaine Hargrave. Here she was but q
girl: and face to face with memory, a
memory that was still alive after three
years of bitter struggle-the struggle
of trying to forget.
For today was the third anniversary
Of what was to have been Elaine Har-
graves wedding day, but that wedding
never took place; and on the third
anniversary Of "what might have
BEEN" as Elaine expressed it herself,
and Just home from travels that had
taken her into the faraway corners of
the world, the girl had become pos
sessed with the desire to see the place
that once she had expected to call
''home."
She stopped for moment in her
| fitting from room to room and looked
about her. Here, but three short years
before, she had planned to come as a
happy bride, and here she had left the
man she loved after their bitter quar-
rel, called him puritan" and "Prude,'
| because he would not cOuntenance the
ways Of her "set." How empty and
false were the ways of that very same
set, she had come bitterly to realize
| just as in her heart of hearts she had
come to respect all the more the man
who would not bow down to them
And how empty was her heart as well
She could see him plainly, If she but
| shut her eyes for moment, as he
stood before her that day so long ago
so tall and proud and good to look at
| She had always taken such pride in his
good looks, all the more so because he
had not belonged to her "set," but had
come to the city unknown, and had
worked up to an enviable position. She
could almost hear again his earnest
voice as he demonstrated with her or
that last fateful day in this house.
81 know that I do not belong to this
set that you seem to think so much
| Of, DEAR" he said, sand perhaps that
| Is why I find 1t so hard to accuston
myself to the things that they do, bu
! I am certain that I have too iHGcf
regard for the woman who Is to be my
wife to want to see her follow In thu
| footsteps of people whose chief aim II
life seems to be to attract the atten
ton of others. You are made for bet
ter things than this, Elaine, dear. Won
| you be guided by me in this thing an
give these people up? Please, dear
| for my saker