Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1921-11-19
ON THIS PAGE TUESDAY

possible IL is Tor me 10 Drlng nGr mere!
"Of course! Well, this will be all
right, you sec: I'll run down there
straight away He turned at the door
in his impetuous fashion. IL say"
he said again, Poor old Feathers!
Isn't it awful"
Chris could not answer, and young
Atkins went on blundcringly: II say.
is it true what they say in the papers,
that when they found him--some one
told mc--both his legs were broken?
1t must have been wHAp the car turned
over my God, what an awful
thing. |. cant imagine how he kept
up as he did oh, all right, I'm
going"
We went off hurriCdly. and Chris put
his head down on his arms and cried
like child.
lie blamed himself mcrcilesSly, and
forgave his friend everything, if indeed
there had ever been anything to forgiveS
lie felt that he had grown into an old
man during those hours of agony last
night when he waited outside the closed
door of his wife's room.
She was living, but she cared nothing
for him, and he could almost find 1t In
his heart to envy Feathers, who, al
though he was dead. had once known the
HuUplncSS OIL ner love.
He had stood beside his friend that
morning, and held the hand he had re-
fused, his heart almost breaking with
grief and remorse.
He could trace everything back to his
own sclhshness and neglect. But for
him, this tragedy would never have hap
pened.
No wonder Marie had loved Feathers
tho most unselfsh. the kindest hearted
he felt HIS own unworthlness
kecnly.
He made what arrangement he could
in town and hurried back to Somcrton.
and the woman who Kept the inn told
him how she had found Marie uncon-
scious in the room downstairs.
Unconscious for an hour she wnS,
she said distressed. II put her to bed
and sent for the doctor I don't know
how she came down without my hearing
her. l wouldn't have had it happen for
the world"
Chris face whitcned. Although
dead. it seemed to him that in the fu-
turc Feathers would stand more cffcctu-
ally between him and his happiness than
ever he had done in life.
A fresh punishment upon which he
had not yet rCckoneI.
night, and it was two days before the
doctor would consent to her being
moved.
She looked So white and frail that
Chris heart sank aS he carried her
dcwn to the car. She was like II child
in his arms. and it hurt him intOlCrn-
bly, to see how rcsolutcly her eyes
avoided him.
Al IL.
drive to the village where young Atkins
sister lived. She asked no questions, |
seemed not to care what was 70 become
of her.
"If you would rather steyed with |
you, Of course, ! WILL" Chris said
honrscly. when he bad" her good-hy |
that evening. He longc'l with all his
soul for her to ask him to stay, but she |
only shook her head.
She seemed quite harpy t" be left |
with Millicent Atkins. and Chris felt |
sure She would be safe with her and !
well cared for.
II viii come and sec YOU every day.
Marie Celeste" Chris said agniu, and
she said: "Ycs. thank you.' but ne
had the curious impression all the
time that she hardly heard or under
stood what he was saying.
1t was only just as he was going and
had impulsively raiEcd her hand to his
lips to kiss it that n little look almost
of horror crossed her white face.
"No-no-p.casc. she said
She tore her Land from him and ran
from the room.
"Shc will be better soon," Milicrnt
assured Chris. seeing the pain in his
eyes as he bade her good by. IF you
take my advice. Mr.. LNwlcss, NOu viii
leave her alone for day or two. She
has had terrible shock, YOU know"
She was i kind faced girl, with steady,
capable eyes that had seen n great deni
more than she aad been told.
Chris would not listen. He must
come down the following day, he said
he could no. rest If he stayed away,
He felt desperate as he drove back t"
London. What was the good of living?
There was nothing in the future for
him.
IIe made up his mind that hc would
sell the London house and everything
in 1t as soon as possible, and take Marie
away ana make a fresh start; but
would she go with him? Somehow he
did not think that she would.
lie had left it to Millicent Atkins
To Dtcilk lne News VI AllSS NHtNN'l y |
death to her, and 1t was with mn un-
happy heart that he went down TO the |
cottage the following afternoon.
Milliccnt cane to him In the garden, |
as she saw him dive up. Her eyes
were compassionate.
Il am so sorry, Mr.. IawlCss, but she
will not see you. Somehow. | felt |
sure this would happen, ard that was
why ! asked YOU to stay away for a |
little while. Oh. don't look like that"
she added, as Chris turned his face
away.
you must just humor her n little"
She Went on gently. '"rhings will come |
all rish: in the end, am sure '"
She hesitltCd, then: "Sbc asked me to |
give you this letter." she added.
Chris took it without a word. He
drove away again along the dusty, |
sunny road by which he had come, with |
here and there glimpse of the river
sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight
between its green banks.
There was nothing cruel about 1t to-
Gay, he thought. 1t was all smiling and |
+ teductivc, and he shiyered rs he remem-
hered the feel of the wet, Shiny reeds,
and realized what !is friends death |
must have been in the mist and dark
ness.