The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-02-28
CHAPTER XXH

ShAI HEN A<AA
 AS Joan sped the four short blocks to MT. Hendry'S white cottage, the stars gleamed brightly in a cloud less sky lighting the path before her. There was a glad song in he1 heart, and for the first time in ter years, bright hope for the future
 If MT. Hendry would believe her!
 Somehow she felt that he would She would stand up before him, honest and unafraid, and tell him everything. She would make him believe in her father as she be- lieved in him.
 What was it Dorothy had said to her? If you believe in someone so truly - so positively - you must be able to impress your certainty upon others"
 Dorothy was right. She had been a coward all these years. She should have made people believe! From now on, she would. She would make the whole world be- lieve her father was innocent. It might be difficult, at times. But it was such a little chance to take, to gain 50 much
 No more would she cringe in terror every time she passed a face on the street that bore fa- miliar resemblance. No longer would she tremble when the name of her native state was mentioned. No further need she deny and pro- test and evade.
 She was freei
 She breathed a silent prayer for having found a friend like Doro- thy Dorothy, who was so strong, and sure, and loyal .. Dorothy, who had first believed in her and then taught her that others might believe Dorothy, who opened the gateway to fu- tre of happiness.
 Ahead of her, the little white house stood out brightly in the moonlight. She saw a light in the front windows-in the living room, that would be. MT. Hendry was still up, therefore, reading, or smoking one last cigar before retiring. He would be astonished to see her burst in upon him at this hour, but he would not say so.
 At the Inn, the steeple clock began to strike the midnight hour and she hastened her steps. Al any moment now, that light in the living room might be di1nmed, tc reappear again upstairs. In that event, she would have to postpone her mission until the morning.
 She dreaded that. There was still the chance that Sybil might tell the story first. That would paint quite a different picture, Joan would be on the defensive then, admitting, apologizing, justi- flying. MT. Hendrys eyes would be stern with disappointment be- cause she had been a coward.
 In her mind, she framed the words that she must speak.
 MT. Hendry. must tell you something about my past ." No. that was too melodramatic.
 MT. Hendry, for 10 years I have been living under a cloud. I don't want to be married with that cloud hanging over me. May I tell you about it and ask your advice?"
 Suppose his advice would be the same as her first inclination - to disappear out of Bob's life? That would be the worst he could do to her, yet hadn't she faced that already?
 Even the worst would be bet ter than this continual uncertainty and dread
 But he wouldn't advise that. He would believe her He muSt
 
 At last she was at the house, running up the steps of the porch. Her heart pounded with thunder ous, quickened beats, and she stood still a moment to catch one long, strengthening breath. She assured herself that there was no need for fear now.
 But she was afraid. For no reason at all, she suddenly felt herself caught in a swift panic of dread, and she stood there, trem- bling from head to foot, and her knees threatened no longer to hold her weight. Why was she so hor- ribly afraid now, when it had seemed so simple. few moments before?
 She leaned against the pillar of the porch, steadying herself. Cold chills possessed her, and her throat was dry. To save her very life, she could have uttered no word at the moment.