The Ely miner., 1920-04-30

which betrayed the deep sense of COM
pliment she felt.
81 don't think could be prouder of
anything that could possibly happen
to me-" she said.
Was it worth the blatant mummery
he had conceived and executed? Was
it not worth that, and infinitely more?
She was proud of his friendship
-. and she shared that distinc-
tion with no one else in the entire
universe.
Proud of it! Hilliard was fulsome,
ly abashed. Abashed-yes, and stimuli
taneously glorified. He had come to
make thescity proud, ignorantly proud,
Of the man whose deeds had merited
no renown. Here, at the very incep-
tion Of his plans, a seventeen-year-old
girl was proud of him. as he was.
Courage. Inspiration. Resolve.
He had won her respect by the prom
ise of lie; and in this instant he
vowed to deserve, by other and in
creasing lies if need be, the prestige
he was unalterably committed to gain,
whereby the past should be as notll-
ing, and the future should be mag
nificent citadel of reconquered dreams.
She was proud of him, and she had
approved the lie in behalf of Dicky
Morgan's memory. Unwittingly, she
had sanctioned the very purpose of
his coming, and the method of his ap-
proach. She had confirmed his own
intentions, and given him the will to
advance. He was to act as the stanch
defender of her playmate perished,
and to make of himself a new and
better man, worthy of the eulogies
which, as trustee, he now accepted for
the unworthy Morgan. He consecrated
himself to this end. Told himself
fiercely that he would succeed. And
she was proud of him! 1t was an
other omen.
1t was eleven o'clock to the minute
when Hilliard, not quite so blithe as
d wedding guest, and yet not alto
gether as doTeful as mourner, waved
his hand to a slender girl who stood
on the veranda of house diagonally
across the street, and went slowly up
the Durants' brick walk. He had an
ticipated the effect Of this pilgrimage
upon his nerves, he. had discounted
it; and Angela's advice had given him
an artificial stimulus for the moment;
nevertheless, as the front door opened
to him, and he saw, over the head of
a smirking maid-servant, a hallway
and vestibule unchanged, his breath
came a little faster than usual, and
hfs cheeks went little darker. 1t
was, so to speak, return to shrine,
and normal man might easily be par
doned for little sentiment on the
side, no matter how often he had
changed his religion during the mean
time fI
The maid, having deposited him in
the living room, disappeared in quick
furry of skirts; Hilliard, standing at
the end of the long, high-roofed apart
ment, found himself surrounded by
thousand goads to remembrance. Not
an item was out of place; not an item
was otherwise than as he had often \
recalled it; his memory had been
Photographic.
At the opposite end of the room. |
banking the black-marbled fireplace.
was a graceful, swan-necked sofa.
beautifully carved and splendidly up-
holstered. Doctor Durant had once
remarked that Carol represented the
fifth successive generation of her fam
lily to be courted on it. And evening
after evening, in the ages that had |
gone. before, Hilliard had sat there
and dreamed and loved and sometimes
when Carol had slipped away from
him he had sat there and dreamed and
loved and smoked while she played
Chopin and Rubinstein and Moscowski |
to him. And the piano-somewhat !
battle-scarred hut withal a master in
stiil over In its accus-