Evening star., 1924-12-14


- member" said Simon. the
tanner, softly to himself,
"is the day Lydia went to
play and was lost on the
mountain. The whole village stream
ed out to find her. And i found her.
Though | was barely and my legc
were so short and fat it's a wonder
/ ever scrambled up those rugged
slopes But find her 1 did-at the
hunters cabin. And I'd run sobbing G
ali the way, afraid some wild beast
had seized on my playmate. But the
minute / saw Lydia. safe and sound,
was boiling mad at her for fright
ming me So
Slow mirth lighted his deep young
oyes. Seated thus, at his solitary
hearth fire, he saw always the pic
lures of his boyhood. He had not
been n recluse then. Twenty years
ago all the little Judean village had
Known and loved Simon, Today. in
the sea city OF Joppa. he was known
merely as Simon the tanner. Upright.
dependable, but 4 young hermit, al
most Always he walked alone.
simon of the Closed Door," so did
his townfolk name him. For his
great doors stood never ajar. AL
ways those heavy, nail-studded pam
els were shut against the world. ST.
mons very self, that door. Locked,
aloof. silent.
And yet
Lydia was such little thing!' In
the fire-shine he saw again her small,
fair, eager face And so loving.
His firm lips twitched with tender
laugh. when she saw me she came
running, arms out and screaming for
joy. But l wouldn't speak to her. /
showed her away with all my might.
And l got madder every minute. be-
cause she'd scared me SO needlessly.
BESIDES, the old hunter sat there,
smiling in his beard. Would l let
him think that Lydia could win me
over? No. Stree. Little pig-headed
BOBBY"
lie chuckled softly.
But Lydia didn't mind shoves, nor
scowls. either. At last she dived into
her little pocket and fished out-this.
Simon thrust his hand into the fine
broidered pouch at his girdle. He
drew out cleaning bit OF rose
quartz, smooth and thin.
Her hearts treasure! But now, to
make amends, she'd give it up to me.
Even then 1 hung back. 1 wanted
that stone. Whew how I wanted 1t!
But 1 kept my stubborn fists clinched.
Then-what was II the hunter said!
From the far mists of years 1t
came, the old mans kind, command
ing voice:
open thy hand. little son. Take
her gift. Only the open. friendly
only into the open, friendly heart
can Joy come"
simon finched. A shadow crossed
his face.
Curious, how we'll I remember. A
good old soul, that Hunter. But queer.
Queer They told it that his hut stood
open in all weathers. All men went
in. sure of a welcome
He glanced over his shoulder at his
own great door locked, bolted.
chained; the door that shielded him
walled him in from life. "
x !: Z ::
BITTERNESS lay cold on his heart.
Il Yet he sat, moveless. and watch
ed the pictures in the fire
II took the stone and kissed her,
and stuck it away safe in my girdle.
The very next day I set to work to
earn silver wire to weave her a
bracelet The Bracelet that she wore,
always. How she did love it, because
I'd earned it and woven 1T, all for
her.
He saw himself, q stubby, deter
mined toiler, blowing the bellows,
day after day, for Hosea, the silver
smith. He saw Hosea, precise old
craftsman, weighing the costly wire.
He saw his own clumsy little fingers
braiding the wire slowly, slowly, into
the precious circlet
1T was much too large for her wee
arm. But she was all the prouder,
the little peacock. She wore 1T all
her life. She was only five then.
Twelve years after, on our day of
bridal. that bracelet still shone on
her wrist. All her darling life"
He shivered and bowed his head.
But the pictures flashed on:
He saw his Lydia as she grew from
childhood to slim, shy girlhood, then
blossomed swiftly to woman liveli-
less. Her cheeks were flushed al
mond petals now, her eyes dark stars
under the folded braids, like ripened
wheat. He saw himself, a bashful
cub, all legs and freckles; then, in a
flash, a superb young Hercules-at
1S a man grown. He saw again his
white hour-the hour of betrothal.
Then, like a flying scroll Of en-
chantment, that last exquisite and
most terrible memory. Around him,
vague and dim, the faces of the mar
riage guests. Like snowflake.
Lydia's cold little hand in his. as they
took their solemn vows. He could
feel the awed tremor of her young
body. His whole flesh melted for
tenderness. Never again should she
know fear, his Lydia, heart of his
heart
Then, ringing in his ears, that cry
OF terror from without. And, like the
swoop of a tempest, the vision of
that great dark trireme, the mighty
rush of armed men across the shall
lows. Down they stormed-that black
aost-upon the dazed village.
Instantly realizing, mad with rage