The Irish standard., 1920-05-01

Wont you promise met I wont
ask you afterward. IL yeu-"
Does it mean 50 much to your"
Ever and ever so much. :.
Won't you please promiser'
He ga1ed at her a moment, yielded
With show Of reluctance.
"Very well-I promise. Because
you've asked it. And because it's the
dearest, most generous. most thought
3el thing 1 ever heard Of In all my
HI And after that, can't We
b truly friends?"
Flushed. perplexed. honored, she
ave him her hand with. q hesitancy
which betrayed the deep sense Of COM
plimcnt she felt.
II don't think I could be prouder of
anything that could possibly happen
% me-" she said.
Was It worth the blatant mummery
he had conceived and executedl Was
It not worth that, and infinitely more?
She was proud Of his friendship
and she shared that distinc-
ton with no one else in the entire
universe.
Proud of it! Hilliard was fulsome-
" abashed. Abashed-yes, and stimuli
taneously glorified. He had come to
make the city proud. ignorantly proud,
OF the man whose deeds had merited
no renown. Here. at the very incep-
don 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 notli-
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
lorgan'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 new and q
better man. worthy Of the eulogies
which. as trustee, he now accepted for
the unworthy Morgan. He consecrated
himself to this end. Told himself
l1ercely that he would succeed. And
she was proud of him! It was an
other omen.
1t was eleven o'clock to the minute
when Hilliard, not quite so blithe as
q wedding guest, and yet not alto
gether as doleful 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
IN artificial stimulus for the moment /;
nevertheless, as the front door opened
to him, and he saw, over the head of
q smirking maid-servant, a hallway
and a vestibule unchanged, his breath
came little faster than usual, and
his cheeks went little darker. 1t
was. SO to speak, return to shrine,
and a normal man might easily be par
doned for little sentim. mt on the
side, no matter how often he had
changed his religion during the mean.
time.
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 a
thousand goads to remembrance. Not
IN 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.
danking the black-marbled fireplace,
was graceful, swan-necked sofa,
beautifully carved and splendidly up
holstered. Doctor Durant had once
remarked that Carol represented the
nth 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-somewha
battle-scarred hut withal master In.
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