The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1921-10-25

witnesses 10 ner pussy ana happy IITr,
the whole woman seemed to stand be-
side Peter. the tall. eager, vital woman
who had been at home here, who had
ruled the cabin with a splendid and
vital personality. He seemed TO feel
her near him again, to see the inter-
ested eyes, the high cheek bones
touched with scarlet. the wisp of hair
that would fall across her face some
times when she was deep in baking,
or preserving, or poultry-farming and
that she would brush away with the
back of an impatient hand, only to
have it slip loose again.
One of her kitchen aprons, caught In
the current of air from the opened
door, blew about on its hook. He re-
membered her, on many a wintry day,
buttoned into just such crisp apron,
radiantly busy and brisk In her kiteh-
en-. stirring and chopping, moving con-
stantly between stove and table With
strong hands still showing traces of
-four she would come to sit beside him
at the piano, to play a duet with her
Characteristic dash and finish, only to
jump up in sudden conjunction, with
an exclamation: "Oh, my ducks-Pd
forgotten thenl Oh, the poor little
wretches !"
And she would be gone, leaving a
streak of wet, fresh air through the
warm house from the open door, and
he would perhaps glance from a win
dow to see her, roughly coated and
booted, ploughing about her duck yard.
delving into barrels of grain, turning
on faucets, welding a stubby old
broom.
She loved her life, he unused, with
bitter heartache, as he stood here
in her empty room. Sometimes he had
marveled at the complete and Nnques-
tioning joy she had brought to 1t. Pc
ter reminded himself that never in
their years together had he heard her
complain about anything, or seem to
feel bored or at loss.
We've always thought of Cherry as
the childr' he thought. "But II was
she, Alix, who was the real child. She
never grew up. She never entered into
the time of moods and self-analysis
and jealousies and desires She would
have played and picnicked all her
life"
His heart pressed like a dull pain
in his chest. Duly. quietly, he went
out to the fire again, and duly and
quietly moved through the day. Her
books and music might stand as they
were, her ported ferns and her scat
tered small possessions-the sewing
basket that she always handled with
boys awkwardness, and the camera
she used so well-should keep their
places. But he went to her desk,
thinking In this long, solitary evening,
to destroy various papers that she
might wish destroyed before the cabin
was deserted. And here he found her
letter.
He found it only after he had some
what explored the different small
drawers and pigeonholes of the desk.
drawers and pigeonholes which were,
to his surprise, all in astonishing or
der for Alix. Everything was marked,
tied, pocketed; her accounts were bal
anced, and if she had anywhere left
private papers, they were at least no
where to be found.
Seeing in all this a dread contirma-
ton of his first suspicion of her death,
Peter nevertheless experienced a shock
when he found her letter.
1t had been placed in an empty
drawer, face up, and was sealed, and
addressed simply with his name.
He sat holding it in his hand, and
moments passed before he could open
it.
So it had been true, then, the fear
that he had tried all these weeks to
crush? He had been weighing, meas
uring, remembering, until his very
soul was sick with the uncertainty.
His mind had been a confused web of
memories, of this casual word and
that look, of what she had possibly
heard, had probably seen, had suspect
Now he would know. He tore open
the envelope, and the dozen written
lines were before his eyes. The let
ter was dated, a most unusual thing
for Alix to do, and Saturday, one
o'clock" was written under the date.
1t was the day of her death.
IT. Do Tr,,oI,,loI n.....-N