Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1918-09-27
LAID PLANS
BY JACK LAYTON.

N@~N-
fathers crime.
at was best" she had said, ''that the
child should learn of 1t from her own"
Laurel had longed to make the
mountain neighbours chGd her compan-
ion, life was lonely among the hills.
So Laurel's mother had explained why
this could not be.
She had listened in frightened hor-
ror. Her grandfather was murderer.
That was the fact in all its brutal
plainness, as her mother told 1t.
Grandfather had killed the man who
would be this mountain chfid's grand
father. His crime had been Vindi-
Gated because the deed was considered
one Of self-defense.
But the grandfather had sought no
such excuse. Murder" he said, was
in his heart at the time. "The man
had told a cruel lie to the woman he
loved, breaking the engagement be-
tween them. On the narrow mountain
trail he had met and accused the vic
tim. and when they had struggled in
anger it had ended in the fall of
the man to his death below.
Self-confessed. Laurel's grandfather
was a murderer, and the shadow lin
gered on those who followed. Recon
ciied, he had married his sweetheart
but the enmity between the two fam
lilies concerned remained a thing OF
reality.
When Laurel's own saddened mother
had gone forever from the mountain
home, it was at her wish that her
daughter be sent away to school, and
to learn what the great outer world
might hold. Now, in all the sweetness
of ? mountain summer, Laurel had
come back again. to be with her father.
1t was in the weather-beaten church
on Sabbath that she raised her eyes
from her singing book, to meet those
of a stranger. From the outer world
| he, too, had come back to the print.
tive. Like hers, his own eyes had
| widened in question, "How come you
here?" asked the strangers eyes. "And
who" flashed Laurel's, "are your
After service both were answered.
"That," said her father, in a tone Of
constraint, 'is the last of the Wiltons,
from down the road. He's been away
for years, studying, they say, an get
ting rich"
On the following morning, she met
| the man of the questioning gaze on q
| narrow mountain trail. His pro-
nounced avoidance of her proclaimed
/ x,F cft hnFc
aversion to the granddaughter of O
murderer.
Laurel's soft eyes clouded, but she
felt no resentment.
The next day Laurel took a diff
ferent path, hoping to avoid the mans
displeasure at sight OF her, and as
Dan Wilton had started out with the
same purpose, the two came again
| face to face in the roadway. LaurePS
impulsive smile met his frown. Anc
as he looked down upon her again II
meeting" Laurel fancied that the
neighbours eyes wore kinder light
| as though against his own will he were
acting a part. She found it impossi'
BILE to Danish his face from her
thoughts.
Grieved, yet wondering why II
should so grieve her, Laurel decided to
confine her walks to the wood; there
fatefully, she met him. He stood fol-
a moment, watching the sunlight filter
ing down on her face, then spoke:
"You must not think" he said slow
", "that my avoidance of you has been
evidence Of the foolish enmity of my
family. You will find 1t as difficult tc
believe the truth as find It myself
81 love you" said Dan Wilton. %
have loved you from the moment
looked into your eyes; but" he
laughed harshly, "there is no use.
cannot reconcile that past stain In the
blood"
Laurers lip trembled: 1t did not oc
cur to her to resent his self-confidence
to tell him that her own heart was not
for the winning.
1--WE must not meet again." she said
81 always will take the upper path Il
town, you the lower. When / come
to the wood, shall leave always be
fore four; it is a dark stain; an
sorry. and l understand"
Longing eyes followed her up the
trail. She forgot as she determinedly
kept ic her stated routine, that the
best-laid plans have been known tc
gang aglee."
I Dan Wilton had forsaken the meet
ing house. He realized that he must
resort to more rigid measures If he
would keep from seeing the girl he
loved. He must go away, and after
four O'Clock, therefore, through the
silent wood he walked. fighting his
fight
True to her promise Laurel had left
the eloquent spot Of fir and pi1e. But
on her homeward way she paused con
cerned. Her wrist watch was gone
she must have dropped IL in the wood
Hastily she retraced her steps, alb
sorbed in searching. SO Il was that
face downward bent, Laurel passed