The northwestern bulletin., 1922-08-12
BAR OF. ROSES
BY MILDRED WHITE


g. 1922. by Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate
The little house stood back from
the roadside. A tiny house. indeed
but up to its doorway yellow rose
shrubs bordered a path. barring
against intruders. Constance, viewing
the picture from the car, was de.
lighted.
"Philip," she said to the man at her
side, 81 will stop here to wait until you
have finished your law business"
Constance Dare's fiance smilingly
agreed.
"All right, DEAR" he replied
Constance sank into q wide porch
chair and smiled at her host, who
came through the cottage door. He
seated himself on the step with an
apology.
II am permitted so seldom to see
strangers that to talk with them is a
treat. If you have stopped In the viii
lage you, no doubt, heard of the her.
mit?"
"We did not stop In the village"
answered Constance. IL accompanied
friend. who is here on a matter Of
law, and he has gone on to see the lo-
cal attorney, who lives, believe, fur
ther up the hill"
The old man nodded.
Farther up the hill are our fine
residences. Here is desolation."
Beautiful desolation!" said Con-
stance; then eagerly leaned forward.
"You were going to tell me about your
hermit life?'
They were seated in the little porch
when the hermit told his story.
MY home, as young man, was up
the hill," he began. There / loved
and married, as 1 truly believed, the
sweetest, truest girl In the world. The
sad part is that, through all the years,
she has been to me the sweetest
and will ever be. My past love could
not alter, even in face of her faith
lessness. 1t was when our boy was a
little lad, twining himself about his
fathers heartstrings, that Eleanor left
me. Her note said that love had
never entered into her marriage. My
money was the motive of her parents
influence-an influence that Won.
But now, she wrote, love had found
her, and love she would not deny.
1T was poor sort of divorce that
she was able to obtain from me in
state where laws are convenient; but
it answered Nellie's purpose. Six
months afterward she came for my
boy. / loved him-so did she; there
was no doubt of that-in the wreck of
her life that love still bloomed beau
tiful thing. So gave my boy to her.
1t was the only thing that 1 could do
when Nellie asked me. And she took
him away with her to that far state
where the man she cared for lived,
and never saw my son again. When
I had made the property on the hill
over to him, that he might inherit it
only after my wife's death, l came
down to live in solitude with my books
--renouncing a life that had taken
from me all l had and given moth
ing.
I'm measure am content. But I
will have no small boys crossing my
solitude; little boys, with all their
trust in life shining in their happy
faces-boys that return for fathers
greeting-against these / set my bar
of roses"
Constance found her face wet with
tears. Into the roadway swung the
automobile. Philip Amsden, jumping
out, came to claim his fiancee
Slowly, at his approach, the old man
arose from his chair. Across the worn
face flashed white light. Philip,
waiting, gazed as one fascinated, into
the sorrOwful eyes.
Your name?" Philip asked, sharply.
In whisper the old man gave it.
Il am Philip Amsden," he said.
II thought there could be no mis-
take!" The young mans tone was still
curt. 1T was my mother who placed
your picture in my room. l had no
wish for it there-a father who delib-
erately gave up his own son. And it
was only after mothers recent death
that learned Of your bequest to me;
my errand today was to see that 1t Is
returned. l will take no gift from
man who forswears his son.
Dumbly the hermit stood. Constance
put caressing arm around each.
"Philip," she said, 1--WE have trav-
eled down no road Of chance today.
We came to bring your father back to
his own. To make up to him in our
own home-you and for years Of
loneliness"
Above her head the men looked, In
sudden understanding.