Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-19


In her speech there had been no wild
grafton, no drama Of accent. but just a
quiet. compelling intensity, dignified, re-
strained. tremulous with earnestness.
Connington. sitting back watching her.
told himself that In all his diplomatic
career he had never encountered SO for.
midable an argument.
This cold consideration of her words
lasted for a. few seconds. Before he
properly realized it he found himself
viewing her, thinking Of her supplica =
tion, as man in whom great sym /.
pathy was stirring. Almost was he tell q.
ing her that she should keep Audrey.
The contemplation of this possibility
steadied his senses. He must not al :
low himself to be swept away by q
food of emotions to which he was un-
accustomed. He steeled himself to re-
fuse her.
"You were n mother sixteen years
ago." he said suavely.
Constance chokcd. "You mean-I was
willing to lose her--for the sake Of
-" She halted, confused.
Exactly. You knew what you were
doing. you knew what must be the de-
and yet you did not heed it. Had it
not been that gave her to you. you
would have lost her then. Your argu-
ments are inconsistent with your past
conduct. " There was the old hard ring
in Connington' 8 voice.
1--WE all make Mistakes" said Con-
stance slowly.
And we all have to pay for those
Mistakes" answered Connington. 1T
is only the craven who endeavors to
fasten his debt on another's shoulders.
Yours was the original mistake. Why
should Audrey have to bear hnlf its
penalty? And that Is what it would
mean II she had to 60 through life with
the stigma of your name and friendship
upon her. There are only two things
to do. Refuse to surrender her. or
give her up entirely. DO not think
/ wish to drive you; do not think !
wish to be cruel. But can claim some
small experience in judging difficult sit =
uations. and to my mind half measures
would be more than futile-they would
be fatal"
COnstance's head dropped. Coming
ton reflected that such speech from
him ut their first meeting on this sub
ject would have drawn from her fierce
defiance. But now she seemed broken
and disappointed. Her words came
slowly. faltercd.
Il had begun to hope that you were
not all coldly logical, Godfrey. That
somewhere you might have a spark OI
human emotion which pity and love
would fan to n fame of generosity
But am wrong. I suppose your life
has killed all the humanity in you.
agree that your argument is correct. II
is mathemntically correct. But min'
also is right. Humanity right. The only
difference Is that you are unable to ap.
prcciatc it. You have lived so long IL
an atmosphere of hard fucts."
Connington was surprised. Instead O,
with his arguments. an agreement which
hurt because of its tolerance. Ono,
more he felt the STRINGS of sympathy
once more he crushed those STRINGS be.
fore they gained ascendancy over nj
reason.
If my arguments are, as you say
correct" he said. why not act upol
them?"
because I cannot, Godfrey. hav,
told you there are some things bcyon,
human power to accomplish. and thi
is one Of them. must see Audrey.
dare not let her 60 from me with thu
knowledge that ] shall never speak t.
her again. I want her to be happy
l want her to step higher thnn ever
could lift her, but-perhaps l am sci
fish. am not strong enough to force
myself to the sacrifice
Perhaps you will--one day OBJ.
served Connington; and in that sen.
tcnce he voiced his innermost thoughts
God knows" said Constance.
She stood up. She was very calm
and there was an nloofness about hcl
which puzzled Connington.
II am afraid this visit has wasted
your time" she said. II an very sorry
we have come to no agreement"
Something drove Connington to all =
swcr her as, in his colder moments, he
would never have answered her.
1T Is impossible for such meeting
as this to have wasted my time" he
said. ~ think I shall always remem
bcr it, am sure have learned some
thing which has all my life been hidden
from me"
For moment their eyes met and
held. Constance tried dumbly to under
stand him. and felt herself quivering
with the thoughts her effort brought
her.
She turned to tho door abruptly.
He saw her into the car, and watched
it drive away. Then he turned back
into the house.
1t came to him. as he trod the hall.
way, that never before had 1t seemed
so empty.
The Gulf Between
To Hardness the long journey north
to his fathers house was an eternity of
mental torture. Time and again he
asked himself why he had not refuted
Audrey's accusations.
At the London terminus he had wired
the time of his trains arrival, and his
fathers car was waiting for him ut the
other end. Half an hour after leaving
the train the car swung through the
gates of his fathers grounds.
Home! He had come home.
Hardness reflected bitterly on it, as
dered drive which led to his fathers
mansion. A home fit for king; the
home of king. even II only Il king of
commerce. And yet, to call it Il home
was to play with words.
The car ran from between the trees,
and the house stretched long and gabled
before lIarkness' view, red -bricked,
with mullioned, loaded windows, it's
walls clothed in creeper all copper col
ored and green. its chimney stacks
twisted Enthusiastically, and from the
terrace which fronted it wide stretch
Of carpet-like lawn, broken with fam.
ing beds of flowers. On 1t AN was a
restful peace.
The butler was waiting for Hark-
ness on the steps, and he came down
to the car as Hardness stepped from it.
His eyes searched Harkness' face anx-
iously.
Hello, Jackson" said Hardness,
holding out his hand. lie and the but I.
Ter had always been great friends. from
the time when the old man sheltered him
from his fathers wrath in his school