The Monmouth inquirer. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1865-1933, 1923-12-20

his kind. enQuiring eyes before shs
spoks. ~
"No, nothing's the matter. only
thought that perhaps perhaps, we
might walk home together"
He dropped her hand, and the col
or flashed to his face. But the blood
moves more slowly at forty than at
twenty, ana he only said.
why, yes, Lorinda, OF course.
The night was clear and beautiful
1t was strange how the man noted
each sound and how his thoughts
went back to another June night long
ago, when lie had walked over the
same road with the woman beside
him. He looked at her face; even in
this soft half-light it was hard and
cold There was something pathetic
in the silent walk of these two old
lovers. They were almost at her door
now. and she turned her face toward
him. If he could have known it. there
were two bright spots on her cheeks;
as 1t was, he felt a great pity for the
lonely woman. He did not know that
they were two players in 1.-THE tragedy
of what might have been" but he dim
over the lapse Of time that had come
between them. He remembered some
thing Of the feeling he had once had
when she was beside him, and wave
of longing, not for her, but for the
love that had gone, came over him.
He almost forgot the woman in his
remembrance of the love whica she
had once awakened.
AS the memory of the old emotions
came over him his heart softened and
he turned toward her with ready
words on his lips. But they had
reached her door, and she was holding
out her hand
Goodnight, Phineas. haven't
any idea but that you think strangs
of what I've done tonight. but what.
ever you think, know I can trust you
to keep still. Perhaps there's things
we all regret don't know how you
feel, but" she had opened tho door
now and had stepped Just within the
shop-'but / won't be busy Saturday
night, and If you want to come I'll be
at home" And before he had time to
answer, the door had been shut and
he was alone.
1t had been hot week for so early
in the season. Phineas felt tired and
spent as he drove home from town
on Saturday afternoon. As he neared
his house its loneliness stF%ck him as
something new The heat Of the day,
aud his struggles with the question
which had been evading, and which
kept calling for an answer, depressed
him. He logged for quiet and peace;
whether the old quiet life or the pos.
sible peace of a new one, he did not
ly, after all; for, as he came nearer
he saw the aid doctors sulky beside
the gate. He had always liked the
cheerful sensible old man, and ne
hailed him now with even note OF
relief in ais voice.
Hello, Phineas; thought you'd ba
along II waited minute"
Phlneas got out and stood By the
side OF the Doctors sulky.
Its about the bill. s'pose." he
said 81 meant to see about it before,
but
''See here, Phineas Harden, did you
ever know me to drive people on my
bills? It isn't a bill this time, but
2 something that ought to have attend
ed to as soon as your mother died,
but 1t clean slipped my mind, and
that's the only excuse have to offer.
don't know whether you ever
thought much about your father; he
died when you were pretty young. He
was one of the best friends ever had.
They said he died OF consumption;
said to myself, and / suppose he did;
but IL ever man died of loneliness
and want of sympathy it was Dick
Harden. Just before he died he gave
me a letter to give you. He told me
to keep 1t as long as your mother
lived, and at her death to give 1t to
you if you were still unmarried; So
since you're a blooming old bachelor
like myself, here II is. And whatever
1t is, Just remember that your father
was a good man, and lived better than
most men die"
In the afterglow of the sunset
Phineas sat turning the letter over In
his hand. The fading light was too
dim for the faint, indistinct writing,
and he lighted the lamp.
He looked at the date and it gave
him curious feeling to know that his
father had been younger than he him
self was when he had written the let
ter. 1t was true that he had thought
of his father but little, and perhaps
nothing in his life had ever touched
him as did this letter. which seemed
as real to him as though it were his
fathers voice coming down to him
through the years.
"To My Dear Son. Whether you
will ever see this cannot tell, When
| life is almost ended, some things seem