Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-06-28
love WILL NEVER DIE
..,s wHo IN THE STORY
BY JOHN HUNTER

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.oxsrANcE BRENT looked at
,u,s,ness So this was his answer
N. nroceeding to tighten the hold
h .Iresdy had on Audrey. She forced
lsssceas lscs .o,rse ~ r yod may, dear" she an.
d a ~ thing III come along, too.
lSys n, imuurmured Hardness, "it will
10, ..s,i of yOu,' His eyes were
enstssodily on hers, as. II he read
a1ed ..o.on s.. which had made her force
isrseli upce upC" felt a sense of futility, as
Cons."S Cos Srst time she realized how
n .It ,be man was, and how ruthlessly
1. could use his strength
4, Empty Life , ,.
II was the day aiter t1ar InS
constance Brent's home. ana Lora
T.,nineton was at break1ast IN M.s
..wn house in Mount street; Az & tn'
!!oOMs with him were his elder slster'
p.rSara, the widow OF Sir J9hn ,. lres'
~ and her son, Sir hicnaro IIss,o~
~" ~oung man of brilliant attalnmeh.s, ot ~
sSom It was already SAID that n,;o = srr%o
~r,er awaited him IN the oipi'""'''
s.rvice Of his country. ,, %
.Vf% ,Oast with the peevish air OF man
~ ivus .s M annette, and looked up from
v. vno ,atters. aS w "Nothing!" he said. II
.t us barbara, that there is nothing IN
Al, INV life have striven and tray.
y. >, md sacrificed myself--for what:
e'u uon cannot find happiness In news
headlines or eulogistic leading ar.
E.lss They reach the head and ieave
Y. bsort cold. And in my age ! am
sus,ns !ay T IL is the heart that counts
I,dv Barbara regarded him criti,
lie A cold, proud woman, imbued
saSb' o.S tbe selfishness Of her kind, sne
VIZ VA hardly understand her brothers
msptal attitude. c,ot-
h,v?" she asked quietly. .,
NJ H. means that l should like to feel
-, daughter's lips on mine-if only
y, E once" said Connington. she
wwar,S wi be nineteen now," he added. as
ah wouJ 70 himself. II can imagine
her" ,, w o,d thero
Young Preslow looked up, ana at .hert
90 a swift alarm in his eyes which
wa, reflected on his mothers face. Lady
SasSaru aSnur spUnS daughter? Have you forgot
I'm whose daughter she is!'
connington tapped his fingers on the
t,hle .top. "You are referring to the
vnman [ married." he said coldly. II
have not forgotten. But time mas
dimmed her memory, Barbara. and l
nm an old and weary man, and realize
4 "a impossible to find comfort in my.
wH. want my daughter w.
Preslow bent over his plate. his
uncle's words were stirring to life a
f,ar which had always lain dormant In
hIs heart, the fear that one day Con-
ninrton would seek out his daughter
and restore her to her rightful place In
Ms household. Such an event would
make vast difference to Richard Pres
low. for, as things were at the moment,
be was Connington's heir.
He would have loved to have Joined
IL the conversation, and added some
adroit sentences of dissuasion to his
mothers cold words of proud disdain,
but he realized that it was not for him
to speak.
After all, he reasoned, he was n young
man in the presence of elders. and he
could not do better than sit ny quietly
while they discussed this intimate mat
ter. Besides, he had unbounded faith
In the power of his mother over Lord
Connington.
81 think you are speaking the truth
when you say you are old" said Lady
Barbara slowly. Then, with sudden
irrelevancy, she added: Have you seen
emy this year? You will remember
her as Dicky Montessan's scapegrace
daughter. 1t Is the greatest exhibit OF
all. Would you care to see it:'
If you like" he replied. ~ am
free all day. Shall we SO this morn
Ing"
capped Preslow's lips at the ease with
which his uncle had been diverted from
the subject of his lost daughter. He told
himself the thing could not be serious
after all or Connington would have
shown more tenacity. But I'reslow did
not know his uncle.
They reached the Academy, and Lady
Barbara took them straight to the pic
ture Of the year, the painting by the
daughter Of Sir Rctlerick Montessan
All the way to Piccadilly Connington
had been silent, obviously deep In
thought. and his sister watched him
aanxiously and somewhat suspiciously
She began to wonder if, after all, she
had succeeded in diverting his thought,
from the subject of his daughter.
Three people were standing In front
OF the picture as Connington's party
approached it-a tall. sunburnt man
ana two women, one slight and girlish
me other middle aged and regal. They
were Constance Brent, Audrey ant
jim Harkness!
Lord Connington stopped. lie knew
nef after all these years, this woman
VINO had been his wife, and he could SCI
!ast' sa despite the great change in him
seif; she recognized him. And the cir
the girl must be his daughter.
4, He was gripped by chaos of emo
ue9s he could neither define nor con
!rol; Lady Barbara Immediately rec
SnIaed the woman of whom her clas
epoKe as the notorious Constance Brent
p.ace IN Connington. For the moment
any gate, he ceased to be tho broker
iiaah aa who had returned from ardu"u
aoors abroad, and became once NOR
nv, nc Keen, reasoning diplomat whom
Lngland had sent out to deal with tn
shnCtty problems of her foreign relation
%t.Ps' ~ lie acted as only a man of de
S.sve thought could have acted, an
teigre ~ Lady Barbara could do anythin
u'Vert him from his purpose.
ne walked straight up to Constanc
Hnt and inclined his head. Hi
Yer was suavely courteous.
SSdrdOn the intrusion You wi