The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-04-26

vented my coming. But if I'd cared
enough for him I wouldn't have
needed to come. If he'd cared
enough for me he would have tried
to keep me there with him. If" she
broke off, and added: 81 meant to
correct the unfair impression OF
Todd I'd given you. I'm not doing a
very good job"
He ignored that. ''Why did you
come, Gay?" he asked.
"I've wanted to tell you" Her
voice was quiet, now, very thought
full, wholly sincere. give been afraid
to try. It doesn't seem reasonable,
even to me. I had no idea that you
would be here"
81 know that" John was uncon-
scious of the fact that he had slack
ened the speed of the car. With his
eyes still fixed on the road ahead,
he waited for her to continue.
"I'm not afraid now" she went
on after an interval of silence. ''To-
night, while I was waiting for you, !
thought of Uncle john"
"Yes?" he said, bending toward
her.
do you suppose that when you
are-dying," she asked simply, like
a child puzzling over mystery be-
yond its comprehension, that some
especial wisdom is given to your"
Her phrasing of a thought he'd
had, startled him with its similarity.
He remained silent, his WEAKNESS
gone, every nerve in his body sud-
denly tense and alert.
81 thought of that tonight" she
went on without waiting for a reply
to her question, while you were
bringing that baby into the world.
When realities touch you, pride
seems unimportant. I'm not afraid
to tell you now. I wanted to come
back to the cabin because I'd felt
intensely here. I'd been both happy
and unhappy and not ashamed of
either, no hidden emotion beneath
mockery for fear I'd be thought SEN
timental and naive"
"But you were so young then,
Gay" John drew in at the side of
the road and stopped the motor.
"And have you-succeeded?"
81 was disappointed the night Kate
and I arrived. I realized how fool
ish I'd been. The cabin was as !
remembered it, but I had no feeling
about it until
Her voice which had been COM
posed trembled to a faltering stop.
She glanced up at him and he saw,
in the light from the dashboard, the
tears on her lashes, the uncertain
half-smile on her lips, the melted
stars in her eyes. His arms went
around her, drew her close.
"Gay," he said. Darling! I love
you. It's relief to say it. I'm
not afraid either. Oh, Gay"
She turned so that her cheek
touched his. Her arm went up
around his neck.
"John!" she cried softly. ooh, I
was afraid it wouldn't happen. /
was afraid I'd 60 away without hav-
ing really been with you. Or that
you would. We're both so stubborn
and proud and ridiculous" She
laughed, half sobbing. "Johnl"
81 couldn't have gone while you
were here" he whispered against
her cheek.
Her arm frightened. Her hand
moved in gentleness from his tenn
pie down along the thin line of his
jaw. 81 couldn't have either. It
was always you. It was because you
had been there that ! had to come
back. ! loved you awfully that sum-
mer and have always since. /
thought just being here But it
wouldn't have been any good. The
night Kate and I came-the cabin
was just as I had remembered it.
But / had no feeling about it until I
found your sweater, this sweater,
and knew it was you who was
there"
''That old sweater. It was new
the summer you were here. You
remembered"
II remembered everything, how
you had your hair cut short so it
wouldn't wave, your hands, could
have drawn them from memory
your crooked smile that disapproves
of me, the way you walk, all the
things that make you-you."
''Oh, Gay! You make mel can't
say" His love for her, so long held
in check, broke through the re-
straints he had set. Logic and COM
mon sense were lost in a rushing
food of tenderness, passion, relief.
They had this time together, now.
tonight. The past was blotted out
and the future obscure. They were