Evening star., 1922-09-17

stood empty and lifeless. But the
church, with its surrounding grave
yard, still maintains itself stanch
against the years, for the ancient
blood that built and loved the place
comes back. by a gentle tradition. to
bury its dead there, even unto the
third and fourth generations. Death
alone gives to the deserted village
the transitory semblance of life.
+ Tiger lilies Of July were swaying
over the peaceful graves when the
stiffness was invaded by the stiff.
mechanistic and saturnine panoply of
a modern burial. The cars in the
procession had driven out from the
nearest city to bury old Mark Jermyn
beside the others of his generation.
Through the compulsion of family
loyalty, Eleanor Jermyn. his great
niece, had. been drawn most unwill-
ingly from house party several hun
dred miles away. where she had been
having a highly satisfactory time.
AS she hardly knew Uncle Mark, she
But no sooner had she crossed the
boundary line of the stream which
divides the deserted village from the
world of actualities than the spell of
peace enfolded her. Through the
soothing cadences of the burial serv-
ice she stood, half -hypnotized, her face
at once ptquant and dreamy, vivid and
possessed. in the dappled movement
of shadows.
1t was thus that Sennett first saw
her.
Was there some signal that passed
from him to her. at once occult and
compelling, drawing her gaze to the
spot in the far corner of the church
yard where he sat leaning against
the bole of a giant elm. She answer
ed that long, immovable look of his
with the unconscious response of
widened eyes and parted lips Of won
dering. And after the last motor car
had lurched across the bridge at the
close Of the ceremony she remained.
making the excuse to her family that
she was tired and wanted to be alone
for a while-they could send for her
later She stood studying, with an
own, name carved in the gray stone
Of tall monument in the Jermyn
plot.
Eleanor Jermyn, wife of Samuel
Jermyn; born. 1927: died. 1867"
Beneath it that tryst of invincible
faith, whittier thou goest, l will go;
thy people shall be my people, and
thy God my Cod
Opposite stood the headstone of
Samuel Jernyn. dead three years be-
fore his wife.
A voice spoke quietly close behind
the living Eleanor Jermyn: That
pledge was not for him.
Not for Samuel Jermyn?' she
queried 1t seemed quite in keeping
with the place and the spell that the
voice of the stranger who had silent
ly hidden her to stay should be tell
ing her secret things of>the past.
You mustn't think it was for him."
insisted the voice.
How strangely you say that! AS
if you were angry or jealous
Jealous? Perhaps 1 am. Do you
want to know the rest?"
She followed him to the corner un-
der the elm, where he silently pointed
out another stone inscribed:
calvin Sennett, born 1922, died
1859. Where thou diest, will l die,
and there will I be buried"
There, then. was the clue to the
dead; she sought the clue to the liv-
ing. Did you come to the funeral?"
mot your funeral. Mine" Both
laughed at the implication and the
tensity was for the moment relaxed.
My grandmother's. She was buried
three days ago. All of US Sennetts
come back here. It's in my great
grandfather's will that We shall"
And all of US 'Jermyns. I'm
Eleanor Jermyn.'
He nodded. "of course. You had
to be-
Did 1? Why"
That's what has kept. me here
waiting, when I should be home
packing up for the interior of Brazil
I knew there was something telling
me to wait. but 1 didn't know what
until I saw you"
Don't be absurd" she chided him.
But there was a tone of expectancy.
of acceptance. of suspense in her
voice.
do go too fast? 1 suppose I do.
But, you see, I've waited so long"
$50 long? Three days by your own
count"
Seventy five years." he retorted
with a gentle but infiexible assurance.
You talk like ghost"
Perhaps l am. Part ghost, at least.
Aren't you? Aren't We all?'
GHOSTS of past lives?" she queried
thoughtfully Like those lying here
about us? Tell me about them
II know only a little about those
two-the only two that matter to US
two. Ny great gra ndfather, CALVIN
Sennett, left here when he was
young man and went to the Mexican
war He never came back alive. He
married my great-grandmother in the
south years later. But there was
broken romance stronger than his
marriage that drew him back here.
and all of us after him. ] never
knew what it was until, at grand
mothers funeral last week, l read
the inscription on your headstone'
II wish you wouldn't call it mine,
she protested 'It gives me such an /
uncanny feeling. The whole thing Is
uncanny"
"Uncanny?" he repeated in a low
voice. "Oh, no, Eleanor. Not un-
canny:. it's-it's almost holy.H