The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1932-07-08


to him."
"You can bet your life | WILL" he
answered genuinely. She thanked him,
and set down the receiver. Her hand
was shaking, and hot tears were run
ming down her face. AS she turned
away, she saw her father coming
toward her with letter in his hand.
"From JIM" he told her. "He
doesn't give an address but tells me
that If | want to know where he is
can find out from ST. Abb. So you see,
my dear. was right. He hasn't . :.
er bolted. :"
"What has he written to you for?"
she asked.
"About my taking over Linforths.
He says that h" is not going TO have
anything more to do with it, and is
arranging to make over his control
of it TO me.
Anything more?" asked Lucy, who
did not find the question of business
the most important one just at that
moment.
"Only that he has gone away for a
while, as he wants to think things
over. and clear his mind as to his next
steps. lie has suffered,
Lucy. :"
"Yes," she broke out passionately.
"and we went yachting, and let it
happen!" She caught a breath. Dad"
she added suddenly, Tin going to him.
7 ha
times over that he didn't want to
see me. I'm going to him. Now.
This minute This is just break
ing my heart. :" She finished on
ALTERING, fearful note. that made
Sir John say, after a moment:
"Very well, dear, if you think It
best. 1t is your affair very much
more than it is mine. :"
Less than fifteen minutes later, Lucy
was in her little two-seater car, head
ing for the Hertfor ishire house where
her disastrous honeymoon had been
spent. A suitcase, with few neces-
saries hurriedly thrown into it. was on
the seat beside her; and, Daddy" she
had said, 'if he wants me to stay with
him. | shall stay. :"
When she turned into the drive, her
heart was beating almost hurtingly
fast. She pulled up at the steps, and
ran up to the door. 1t was fastened.
When she had rung the bell and stood
waiting to be admitted, she felt that
her heart must be going to suffocate
her. The maid who opened the door
was surprised to see her. but very well
coming
"Is Mr.. Lee in?" she asked quickly.
"Yes, madam" the girl answered.
Hes in the drawing room, l think.
I'll 60 and tell him. :"
Lucy stopped her.
mo, I'll go myself Just see
that the car is garaged, and my things
takeL to my room, will your" She
gave the girl her hat and coat, and
went along through the familiar hall
to the drawing room, opened the door
quietly, and went in. Lee was sitting
by the fire, elbows on knees. his head
in his hands. His attitude was one IF
deep detection. The winter afternoon
was already going dusky, and his
bowed head made a detail-less sill
houette against the freight.
She closed the door softly, raised
hand to still the wildness of her heart,
and said as steadily as she could:
"Jim. -
One word, but it brought him start
! ing up to his feet, smothered cry
breaking from his lips.
She came toward him slowly, half
shyly; but at a closer sight of his
face, pale and ravaged with the emo
tional turmoil he had gone through,
her shyness dropped from her, and she
saw something that the confusion of
doubts and fears had obscured from
her; something she had not been sure
of, since she had last seen him. :.
you love ne, jim; don't you?" she
asked softly, her lips curved to the
tenderest imaginable smile. He stood
motionless for the space of breath,
then turned away and put the length
of the room between them before he
faced her again and said:
"YeS."
81 love you, too," she answered.
There was silence again. Then:
81 love you enough to know that l
mustn't let you love me-" he said.
"And / love you enough to know
that you can't stop me-" she said.
He went on quickly:
"Tve done some things that you
|
really forgive. Looking back,
| it's like a dream, and a mighty bad
one. ;" He drew deep breath.
and squared his shoulders slightly be-
fore going on; You may think that
you would forgive them. :.
But / don't believe that you ever
really could. -
Suppose she said, very quietly,
"that | have. alreadyg" Just for
| fieeting moment, their eyes met across
| the room. Then she added: "Or sup
| pose, rather. that realize that it has
| been a dream and >. Oh, mighty
bad one. Jim; but suppose know
| that, being dream, it therefore has
| nothing to do with real, waking life?
| Nothing, / mean, that could possibly
| come between your love for me and
mine for you, if yours is anything
| like as big as mine. Suppose
| know all that? Doesn't it make
difference? Suppose | realize that IT
| isn't a question of forgiveness at all,
but Just a recognition of some
thing that has been and is past
? Doesn't all that make q
difference? Doesn't it wipe out all
question of whether l will, or won't