The Washington herald., 1920-01-25
CHAPTER I
THE WAIF

D
In spring. and she refused to turn
back3 John held her hands in his.
and Gould not accept as real the
great beauty OF the world. He had
been writing verses as usual when
she came to his door. and the gentle
lines were as always OF her. his
Mary. his unattafnable. Now the
namea that he loved shone forth in
her. She threaded her destiny with
his. In the dim, dusty hallway out
side his door he found her arms
about his neck. and that springtIde
evening lowered in their kiss.
Mary would not go back Her
family, the proper Martins, had es-
tranged her when they refused to
receive the man of her choice. The
fact that his verse had once ap-
peared in print served only to whet
their disapprovaL He could not
make three hundred a year that
way. They would have no more OF
him. and no further talk. A shin
ing new and silent electric had been
brought to the porte-cochere. and
long-desired pearls appeared on her
dressing-table. These gifts and
their bald object won only a storm
from Mary. When she had locked
her mother from the room. and had
lain upon the floor to think and re-
sent, the spring twilight had found
her, had touched her cheek ana
raised her from the rug. 1t whisp-
cred to her, and caused again the
familiar tumult in her heart. John,
her poet! Twilight pressed the barb
of desire in her flesh; her thoughts
were bitter-sweet. She admitted to
herself that IL was not his writing
she wanted. for he might not be q
great poet. She forgot his delicate
praise OF her eyes. her lightbrown
hair. her young limbs. All of that
might fade some day. She loved him
most for their moments of silence.
So. while the last robin of the day
caroled outside her window, and the
soft dusk sank upoh the trees and
lawn, she obeyed her own heart. and
went to him.
II will work." he said. when they
went gaily down the stairs of the
rooming-house.
You will write. John" she said.
Yes. and work with my hands,
OF it."
Where shall we go now7" she
asked.
Before another sunset they had
forgotten the name of the salIow
minister who had sanctioned their
JOY.
They went t. a small Michigan
town. John worked in a stove fac
tory. and came home each night
with grimy face and bruised hands,
to a small house that was lit with
happiness. Mary was in a shining
dream. The world was a place of
beauty and tenderness and passion.
Johns day-labor was something to
laugh at He was strong. and his
bench-mates never suspected him OF
writing poetry. With his beloved
he would go downtown on the sum
mer evenings. carrying a basket. to
buy groceries They found delight
in simple things in this small Do
wagiac, Michigan. Their cottage
was radiant with cleanliness. John
grew more robust from his work.
His pale-blue eyes shone with a
light from within. He took lightly
the mistakes that often cost him a
days wages. There was enough. To
with sunlight.
The police came. but went away,
smiling and poT erless. Then the
old butler from Msry's house came,
and they kept him overnight, until
he forgot his errand OF malice, and
found himself gripping the hand of
John Lexington when they parted.
The butler lost his position, and
later Mary's father came. Her
mother. also. but the mother re-
mained in the railway station, re-
fusing to set eyes upon the cottage.
1t would be enough to ride back to
the city with her silly daughter.
Mr.. Martin had stern though kindly
words for his girl. and would not
consent to remain to dinner, when
John would be home. Mary bade
him an. affectionate goodby. Two
silent partners returned to their
mansion alone, and their eyes were
blurred.
Mary's days were keenly and
frankly lived. On Sundays John
wrote verses. She remembered the
night she had gone to him, and
laughed a little at that early idea
OF love, which had seemed so COM
plete. Now she knew il had been
but a guess at the wide-sweeping
truth. Summer warmth raced full
through her body. Her arms grew
round. and she breathed more deep
ly. he,cosmic life and beauty that
were herself. Mary Lexington, bios
somed now.
In September, when the yellow
grasshoppers danced zigzag across
the 'scorched grass, and the sun
ripened the apples in the orchard
around Dowagiac, Mary began to
breathe for two. An overwhelming
devotion possessed John Lexington
his sacrament. The flood of his
desire seemed to have reached the
sea, and he lost himself in alteration.
He asked for nothing. trying only to
serve, to smooth the way for his
beloved and the coming of her child.
Sometimes she would say to him:
John. almost believe 1 feel his
presence. our w-comer-somebody
so friendly and brave. His person
alhy-"
And John would nod quickly,
timidly, without speaking, for the
miracle was beyond his understand
ing, and the path Of the gentle new
conner was not all clear to him. A
thousand lovely gifts he had in mind
for Mary and her guest. but he could
not buy them. The deep-murmuring
verses he set down through the win
ter months he tore in bits. as un-
worthy. There was the lowly but
important matter of coal to burn,
first to he nurchased His dApaFt =
ment in the factory had filled the
warehouses. and the men were laid
OF. There were many cold sitting