Newspaper Page Text
4
CHAUTER V.
(Continued from Last Week.)
LTERE’s a note what Mr. Brandt
sent you.”
Lura was glad to be alone, for it
would have been like the little Shel
ton to have blurted it out before the
whole family, none of whom as yet
guessed the truth. She well knew
they were attributing her pallor, and
the restlessness she could not control
to an entirely different source. She
tried to be calm but could not, nor
was it altogether on account of the
stormy scene with her aunt the night
before, nor because of the lack of
manhood on the part of millionaire
fiance. In some measure her sym
pathy was aroused for the man she
had just dismissed, and who, the
evening before, had gone away to
the bedside of his mother, in answer
to a telegram that stated she was
was dangerously ill at Newport.
There was no attempt on his part
to play upon her sympathy in his
hour of trial; a mere handshake, a
hurried goodbye—that was all. But
it caused her to feel a deeper admira
tion for Alden Miere and almost a
pang of regret for what she tried to
persuade herself her pride had
caused her to do. Then she found
herself wondering if this proud
mother was really “dangerously ill —
or was it a ruse of this proud mother
to bring her son away from his in
fatuation?”
Lura was not a girl to judge quickly
or harshly but in the light of the
letter she had received such a thing
did not seem, out of the possible.
Brandt’s note was not unexpected—
somehow she knew he would send for
her and she firmly resolved not to
go. All night long she had tossed
restlessly from one side of the bed
to the other; her head first on her
pillow then on the window sill with
the wind fanning her hot face and
playing with the loose braids of
brown hair.
“No —no —no, I must not see him
again—l can’t ever —sense of honor—
that’s all—Aunt Helen—l won’t, I will
not go,” she had mumbled.
She once started to toss the note
in the grate, but an overpowering
curiosity to see its contents stayed
her hand, then almost eagerly she
broke it.
“Dear Miss Bondurant,’ it ran, “En
closed find a newspaper clipping that
may explain some things. I have no
excuse to offer for sending it except
ORDER YOUR PIANO THROUGH
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fwmTTHTTWTFt Familiar Songs of the
lililllPullllllhul Gospel (No. lor 2).
Round or shape notes. $3
per hundred; samples, 5e each. 83 songs, words and music.
E. A. K. HACKETT, FORT WAYNE, INDIANA
TEST AND TEMPTATION
Ethel Tupper Walker.
THE GOLDEN AGE FOR WEEK OF OCTOBER 8, 1914
that I thought it might be of passing
interest to you. Sincerely, W.
Brandt.
No word about his condition. No
invitation to come to see him.
The article? We may guess what
it contained. It was the complete
vindication of Brandt at the hands
of Dora Holmes. With Death’s
shadow closing ’round her, repentant,
she revealed the details of the clever
but shameful plot, the execution of
which had cost the young preacher
five years of bitterest shame and hu
miliation. The article also stated that
the people of his home town were
trying in vain to locate him, being
extremely desirous of making some
amends for their unjust treatment of
him.
Wouldn’t you have done it too,
reader? Sharp, swift and painful as
her reaction was when she realized
how terribly she had wronged him
who had once loved her, Lura did not
wait for effects. She did not even
try to analyze her feelings. There
was but one way to relieve that awful
strain of nerve, that burning thump
ing dizziness that almost blinded her
and made her want to fall prostrate
and cry, “forgive 1 forgive !1” Almost
before she knew it she had slid across
the rocky( mead n had crossed the
twisted foot-bridge and climbed the
rough narrow trail that stopped at
the front door of the Shelton home.
He was lying on the big four-poster
in the corner and turned his face
toward the door as she entered. She
stopped at the threshold, at once
frightened, embarrassed.
“Good morning,” he greeted as cas
usually as if she had been the fairest
acquaintance. “Come in.”
For the first time Lura thought of
the barrier treatment of him had
placed between them. For the first
time she realized that his was a pride
that could be as stubborn as her own.
But now—now —She took a step for
ward and hesitated. The sun shone
in through the door and shed its slant
of light across his bed. She noted
that they had shaved him and given
him clean clothes and that now he
looked very much like the Walter
Brandt of old.
“Does —does it bother you?” she
asked timidly as she half-turned to
close the door.
He shook his head.
“I thought you would come,” he
said regarding her coolly, “ when you
knew. There’s a chair. Bring it over
here, will you?”
“I didn’t mind. I wanted to come—
when I knew,” she repeated slowly
after him. For a moment her gaze
rested abstractedly on a small wall
picture—a sort of home made one
consisting of a girl’s head cut out of
a magazine and pasted a brown paper
background, the whole being enclosed
in a frame of shining mica.
He moved slightly; a sharp twinge
struck him and his face went white
with the momentary pain.
“How’s your side?” she asked sud
denly remembering that he had been
hurt.
It’s rather painful, nothing serious
however,” he assured her.
Their eyes met on a level. In hers
he read a sympathy that could not
show itself for fear; in his she saw
no invitation to fall on her knees and
beg forgiveness. The quiet scorn and
amusement she was sure lay back of
his steady gaze checked her. “I am
story—”
She knew it sounded lame, but she
could think of nothing else to say.
“I’m sorry as I can be,” she
floundered helplessly. Oh, why
wouldn’t he help her out? Had she
come there only to have him gloat
over her contrition? To be spurned
as a thing despised? He could not
care for her any more. What if the
five years had made him hard and
bitter toward her, toward the whole
world? And surely he had suffered
enough at their hands. A few min
utes ago she had felt only a yearn
ing pity, a heart-sick repentance, but
now for a moment she almost hated
him. She saw no trace of the tender
forgiveness she had expected from
this man who had once openly
preached the divine doctrine to the
masses. She struggled to gain com
posure.
Finally he broke the strain, but not
by acknowledging her efforts at sym
pathy.
“How long have you been here,
Miss Bondurant?” he asked court
eously. ’
“About five weeks,” she replied,
averting her eyes.
“I have seen you two or three
times, he remarked carelessly.
Lura colored swiftly.
“You —saw me? Then why didn’t —?”
she began in a surprised tone and
then checked herself.
He laughed shortly, amusedly.
“Why, didn’t I look you up?” he
finished for her. “Well, you seemed
to be very well occupied, and really I
did not have the time to spare my
self,” he explained.
Some of the girl’s old time pride
came to her rescue.
“If you didn’t want to come,” she
said with a slight show of indigna
tion, “you might have written me and
told me you were innocent.”
“I told you once before and you
did not believe me,” he reminded
her.
“How could I know?” she demand
ed forcing down an awful lump that
almost choked her. “Men do such
awful things—sometimes, I did not
know. I —l was afraid to —.”
“Marry me? I don’t blame you,”
he said quietly.
“Well, don’t you know how my peo
ple—how Aunt Helen —?” she began
and stopped short, for she realized
the futility of such lame excuses. She
would offer none now.
“I said I did not blame you,” he re
peated.
“I don’t like to be despised for
doing the thing that was hardest for
me to do,“ she depended looking
straight at him. “You won’t believe
me—but it hurt me. Oh, how it did
hurt! I cried and cried because of
what I did. Still, I thought I was
letting my good sense control my
feelings and —and —”
“Well, aren’t you satisfied?” he
asked quietly.
She bent her head and was silent.
What must she say? Just how
would he take a statement of the real
truth? As she puzzled herself for
just the thing to say he broke the
silence.
“You did not know my little
daughter was dead?” he asked, then
after a pause. “She died shortly after
I was —dismissed” he added, “I had
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not meant for her to know, but they
told her—somebody did. I thought
it a very good test of her love that
she believed in me to the last.”
Lura shrank from the stinging ref
erence to her own lack of faith.
She did nut seek to dodge the
issue. “I didn’t know you as she did,”
was all she said.
He glanced sharply at her.
Is our conversation painful to
you?” he asked kindly. “We. can
change the subject. Where do you
expect to settle after your marriage?
Or is that too pertinent?”
So sure was she tha L he was laugh
ing at her confusion that she arose
determined to leave.
(To Be Continued.)
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