Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 116, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 May 1912 — Page 2

BYNOPBIB.

Enid M&ltl&nd, a frank, free and unspoiled young Philadelphia girl, is taken to the Colorado mountains by her uncle, Robert Maitland. James Armstrong, Maitland’s protege, falls in love with her. His persistent wooing thrills the girl, but she hesitates, and Armstrong goes east on business without a definite answer. Enid hears the story of a mining engi-. neer, Newbold, whose wife fell off a cliff and was so seriously hurt that he was compelled to shoot her to prevent her being eaten by wolves while he went for help. Klrkby, the old guide who tells the Story. gives Enid a package of letters which ne says Were found on the dead woman’s body. She reads the lettera and at Kirkby’s request keeps them. While bathing in mountain stream Enid is attacked by a bear, which is mysteriously shot. A storm adds to the girl’s terror. A sudden deluge transform brook Into raging torrent, which sweeps Enid into gorge, where she is rescued by a mountain hermit after a thrilling experience. Campers In great confusion upftn discoving Enid's absence when tne storm breaks. Maitland and Old Kirkby go la search of. the girl. Enid discovers that her ankle is sprained and that she is unable to walk. Her mysterious rescuer carries her to his camp. Enid • goes to sleep in the strange man’s bunk. Miner cooks breakfast for Enid, after which they go on tour of Inspection. -The hermit tells Enid of his unsuccessful attempt to find the Maitland campers. He admits that he is also from Philadelphia, The hermit falls In love with Enfa. CHAPTER XIV. (Continued). Having little else to do, she studied the man, and she studied him with a warm desire and an enthusiastic predisposition to find the best in him. She would not have been a hßman girl If she had not been thrilled to the very heart of her by what the man had done for her. She recognized that whether he asserted it or not, he had established an everlasting and indisputable claim uporf her. The circumstances of their first meeting, which as the days passed did not seem quite so horrible to her. and yet a thought of which would bring the blood to her cheek still on the instant, had in some way turned her over to him. His consideration of. her, his gracious tenderness toward her, his absolute abnegation, his evident overwhelming desire to please her, to make the anomalous situation in which they stood to each other bearable in spite of their lonely and unobserved intimacy, by an absolute lack of presumption on his part—all those things touched her profoundly. Although she did not recognize the fact then perhaps, she loved him from the moment her eyes had opened in the mist and rftin after that awful battle in the torrent to see him bending over her.

No sight that had ever met Enid Maitland’s eyes was so glorious, so awe inspirfng, so uplifting and magnificent as the view from the verge of the cliff la the sunlight of some bright winter morning. Few Women 'had ever enjoyed such privileges as hers. She did not know whether she liked the winter crowned range best that way, or whether she preferred the snowy world, glittering cold in the moonlight; or even whether it was more attractive when it was dark and the peakß and drifts were only lighted by the stars which shone never so brightly as just above her head. When he allowed her she loved to

stand sometimes in the full fury of the gale with the wind shrieking and sobbing like lost souls in some v lcy Inferno through the hills and over the pines, the snow beating upon her, the sleet cutting her face if she dared to turn toward the storm. Generally he left her alone in the quieter moments, but in .the tempest he stood on guard by her side, buttressing her, protecting her, sheltering her. Indeed his presence then was necessary, without him bbe could scarce have maintained a footing. The force of the wind might have hurled her down the mountain but for his strong arm. When the cold_ grew too great he led her back carefully to the hut and the warm fire. -R_ — —— - Ah, yes, life and the world . were both beautiful to her then, In night, In day. by sunlight, by moonlight, In calm and storm. Yet it made no difference what was spread before the woman's eyes, what glorious picture was exhibited to her gaze, she could not look at It more than a moment without thinking of the man. With the most fascinating panorama that the earth's surface could spread before human vision to engage her attention, she looked into her own heart and saw there this man! Oh, she had fought against it at first, but lately she had luxuriated in it She loved him, she loved him! And why not? What is It that women love In men! Strength of body? She could remember yet bow he had carried her over the mountains in the midst of the storm, bow sim bad been . so bravely upborne by his arms to his heart She realized later what a task that had been, what a feat of strength. The uprooting of that sapling and the Overturning of that huge Grizzly were child's play to the long portage up the almost Impassable canon and mountain side which bad brought her Was it strength of character she •ought resolution, -determination? This had deliberately withdrawn

from the world, buried himself in this mountain, and had stayed there deaf to the alluring call of man or woman; he had had the courage to do that. Was it strength of mind she admired? Enid Maitland was no mean judge of the mental powers of her acquaintance. She was just as full of life and Bpirit and the joy of them as any young woman should, be, but she had not been trained by and thrown with the best for nothing. Noblesse oblige! That his was a mind well stored with knowledge of the most, varied sort she easily and at once perceived. Of course the popular bookß of the last five years had passed him by, and of such he knew nothing, but he could talk Intelligently, interestingly, entertainingly upon the great classics. Keats and Shakespeare were his most thumbed volumes. He had graduated from Harvard A a civil engineer with the highest honors of his class and school and the youngest man to get his sheepskin! Enid Maitland herself was a woman' of broad culture and wide reading and she deliberately set herself to fathom this man’s capabilities. Not infrequently, much to her surprise, sometimes to her dismay, but generally to her satisfaction, she found that she had no plummet with which to sound his greater depths.

Did she seek in him that fine flower of good breeding, gentleness and consideration? Where could she find these qualities better displayed? She was absolutely alone with this man, entirely in his power,’ shut off from the world and its interference as effectually as if they had- both been abandoned in an ice floe at the North Pole or cast away on some lonely island in the South Seas, yet she felt as safe as If she had been In her own house, or her uncle’s, with every protection that human- power could give. He had never presumed upon the situation in the least degree, he never once referred to the circumstances of their meeting in the remotest way, he never discussed her rescue from the flood, he never told her how he had borne her through the rain to

She Loved to Stand in the Full Fury of the Gale.

the lonely shelter of the him, and In no way did he say anything that the most keenly scrutinising mind would torture into an allusion to the pool and the bear and the woman. The fineness of his breeding was never so well exhibited as in this reticence. More often than not it is what he does not rather than what he does that indicates the man. . x It would be folly to deny that he Dever thought of these things. Had he forgotten them there would be no merit in bis silence; but to remember thdfei and to keep still—aye, that showed the man! He would close his eyes in that little room on the other side of the door And see.again the dark pool, her rimlte shoulders, her graceful arms, Ahe lovely face with .a i .

The Chalice of Courage

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By Cyrus Twonsend Brand Brady

2

Its crown of sunny hair rising above the rushing water. He had listened to the roar of the wind through thp long nights, when she thought hfm asleep if she thought of him at all, and heard again the scream of the storm that had- brought her to his arms. No snow drop that touched hi? cheek when he was abroad but reminded him of that night in the cold rain when he had held her close and carried her on. He could not sit and mend her -boot withoutrremembering that white foot before which he would fain have prostrated himself and upon which he would have pressed passionate kisses if he had given way to his desires. But he kept all these thlrfgs in his heart, pondered them and made no sign. Did she ask beauty in her lover? Ah, there at last he failed. Recording to the qanons of perfection he did nqt measure up to the standard. HU features were irregular, his chin a trifle too square, his ' mouth a thought too firm, his brow wrinkled a little; but he was good to look at for he looked .strong. The looked clean and he looked true. There was about him, too. that stamp of practical efficiency that men who can do things always have. You looked at him and you felt sure that what he undertook that he would accomplish, that decision and capability were incarnate In him.

But after all the) things are said love goes where it js sent; and I, at least, am not the sender. This woman loved this er because nor In spite of these qualities. That they were might account soy her affection, but if they had not been, it may be that that affection, that that passion, would have inhabitated her heart still. No one can say, no one can tell how or why those things are. She had loved him while she raged against him an 4 hated him. She did neither the one nor the other of those two last things, now, ahd she loved him the more. Mystery is a great mover; there is nothing so attractive as a problem we cannot solve. The very situation of

the man, how he came there what he did there, why he remained there questions to which she had yet no answer, stimulated her profoundly. Because she did not know she questioned in secret; Interest was aroused and the transition to love was easy. ' Propinquity, too, is responsible for many' an affection. “The ivy clings to the first met tree." Given a man and woman heart free and throw them together 2 and let there be decent kindness on both sides, and it is almost inevitable that each shall love the other. Isolate them “from the world, let them see mo other companions hut the one man and the one woman, and the result becomes more inevitable. - * Yes, this woman loved this mag,j V: m. .R-R wRR. jR.R■.R

She said in* her heart— I am not one to dispute her that she would have loved- him had he been one among millions to stand before her, and it was true... He was the complement of her nature. They differed in temperament as much as in complexion, and yet in those differences as must always be to make perfect love and perfect union, there were striking resemblances, necessary points of contact . " There was no reason whatever why Enid Maitland should not love this mam The only possible check .upon her feelings would have been her rather anomalous relation to . Armstrong, but she reflected that she had. promised him definitely nothing. When she had met him she had been heart whole, he had made some impression upon her fancy and might have made more with ity, but, unfortunately for him; luckily for her, he had net enjoyed that priv-

The Dark Face of His Wife Rose Before Him.

liege. She 1 scarcely , thought of him longer. : ' She would not have been human If her mind had not dwelt upon the world beyond the sky-line on the other side of the range. She knew how those who loved her-must be suffering on account of her disappearance, but knowing herself safe and realizing that within a short time, when the spring came again, she would go back to. them and that- their mourning would be turned Into Joy by her arrival, she could not concern herself very greatly over their present feelings and emotions; and besides, wh,at would be the use of worrying over those things? There was metal more attractive for her thoughts close at hand. And she was too blissfully happy to entertain for more than a moment any sorrow. RR She pictured often her return and never by any chance did she think of going back to civilization alone. The man she loved would be by her side, the church’s blessing would make them one. To do her justice, in the simplicity and parity of her thoughts she never once thought of what the world might say about that long winter sojourn alone with this man. She was so conscious of her own innocence and of hjs delicate forbearance, she never once thought how humanity would raise its eyes and fairly cry upon her from the house tope. She did not realise that were she evV so pure and so innocent she could not now or ever reach the high position which Caesar, who was none too reputable himself, would fain have his wife enjoy! '■ rS|RCHAPTER XV. The Man's Heart Now, love produces both happiness and unhappiness, bat on the whole I think the happiness predominates, for love itself if it be true and high is its own reward- Love may feel itself unworthy and may Bhrlnk even from the unlatching of Che shoe lace erf the beloved, yet It joys in its own existence nevertheless. Of course its greatest satiMaction i* la the return.

but there Is a sweetness even in the despair of the truly loving. Enid Maitland, however, did not have to endure indifference, or fight against a passion Which met Mfltb h° response, for this man lowed her with a' love that was greater even than her . own. The moon, in the trite aphorism, looks on many hrooks, the brook sees no moon but the one above him in the heavens. In one sense his merit in winning her affection for hixpself from the , hundreds of men she knew, was the greater; in many years he had only- seen this one woman. Naturally she should be everything to him. She represented to him not only the women but womankind. He had been a boy practically when he had burled himself In those mountains, and in all that time he had seen nobody like Enid Maitland. Every argument which had been to show why she should love him could be turned about to account for his

passion for her. They are pot necessary, they are all supererogatory, idle words. To him also love had been boiju in ah hour.' It had flashed into existence as If from the flat of the Divine. Oh, he had fought against It. Like the eremites of old he had been scourged into the desert by remorse and another passion, but time had done its work. The woman he first lqyed had ministered not td the spiritual side of the man, or if she had so ministered in any degree it was because he had looked-.at her With a glamour of Inexperience and ■ youth. During those five years of solitude, of study and of reflection, the truth had gradually unrolled Itself before him. Conclusions vastly at variance with what he had ever believed possible as to the woman upon whom he had first bestowed his heart, had got into his being and were in solution there; this present women was the precipitant which brought ’them to life. He knew now what the old appeal of his wife had been. He knew bow what the new-appeal Of this woman was. In humanity two things in life are inextricably "Intermingled, body and souL Where the function of one begins and the function of the other ends no one Is able to say. in ajl human passions are admixtures of the-earth earthy. We are born the sons of old Adam as we are reborn the sons of the New. Passions are complex. As in harvest wheat and tares grow together until the end, so in Hove earth ams heaven mingle ever. He remembered a clause from an ancient marriage service be'hsd read. “With my body I thee worship,” and with every fibre of his physical being, he loved this woman. v It would be Idle to deny that, Impossible to disguise the facts, but In the melting pot es passion the preponderant Ingredient was mental and spiritual; and just because higher aad holier things' predominated, he held her in his heart a sacred thing. Love Is like a rose: the material part la the beautiful blossom; the spiritual factor is the fragrance which abid— in the to— jar even after every leaf has fadfc ". : '' -■ - - ■ . - '

ed away, or which may be expressed irom the soft petals by the hard eto cumstances of pain apd sorrow until there Ik left nothing but the lingering perfume of the - His body trembled if she laid a. hand upon him, .his soul thirsted for her; present or absent'he conjured before his tortured brain the sweetness that inhabited her breast. He had been clearsighted enough in analyzing the past, he wae neither clearsighted nor coherent in thinking of the present. He worshiped her, he could have thrown himself upon his -knees to her; if It would have added to her happiness, she could hafffc killed him, smiling at her. Rode she in the Juggernaut car of the ancient idol, with his body, would he have unhesitatingly paved the way and have , been glad of the privilege, He longed to compass her with • sweet servances. The world revenged Itself upon him for his long neglect, It had summed up in this one woman all Its charm, its beauty, its romance, and had thrust her into -bis very arms. His was one of those great passions whloh Illuminate the records of the past. Paolo had not loved Francesca more. Oh, yes, the woman knew he loved her. It was not in the power of mortal map no matter how iron his restraint, how absolute the Imposition of his will, to keep his heart hidden, Ids passion undisclosed. No one could keep such things secret, his Jove for her cried aloud In a thousand ways, even his look when he dared to turn his eyes upon her was eloquent of his feeling. He never said a word, however, he held his lips at least fettered and bouflb for he believed that honor and its obligations weighed down the balance upon the contrary side to which his inclinations lay. „ f v v He.was not wortly of this woman. In the first place all he had to offer her' was a blood stained hand; That' might have been overcome in his mind; but pride in his self punishment, his resolution to withdraw himself from man and woman until such time as Ged completed his expiation and signified his acceptance of' the penitent by taking away his life, held him inexorably. >- The dark face of his wife rose before him. He forced himself to think upon her, she had loved him, she had giyen him all that she could. H 4 remembered how she had pleaded with him that he take her on that last and most dangerous of Journeys, her devotion to hhtp had been so great she could not let hint go out of her sight a moment, he thought fatuously! And he killed her. In the queer turmoil of his brain he blessed himself for everythin!;. He could not be false to his purpose, false to her memory, unworthy of the passion In which he believed she had held him ahd which Re believed he had Inspired. V A V. V- . A. 9 AV— - —— S JM

If h§ had gone out in the_world, after her death he might have forgotten most of these things, he might have lived them down. Saner clearer views would have come to him. His morbid self reproach and self consciousness would have been changed. But he had lived with them alone for five years and now there was no putting them aside. Honor and pride, the only things that may successfully fight against love, overcome hiin. He could not give way. He wanted to, every time he was in her'presence he longed to sweep her to his heart and crush her in his arms and bend her head back and press lips of fire on her lips. But honor and pride, held him back. How long would they continue to exercise dominion over him? Would the time come when bis passion rising like a sea would thunder upon these artificial embankments of his* soul, beatthem down and sweep them away? j At first the disparity between their situations, not so much upon account of family or of property—the treasures of the mountains, hidden Bine* creation he had discovered anklet lie —hut because of the youth and position of the woman compared <b his owl maturer years, his desperate experience, and his social withdrawal had reinforced his determination to live and love without a sign. But he , had iong since got bexond this. Had he been free he would nave taken her like a viking of old, if he had to pluck her from amid a thousand swords and carry her to a beggar's hut which love would have turned to a palace. And she would have come with him on the same conditions. , R (TO BE CONTINUED.) Name Saved Him. A man brought before the court In Biddeford, Me., on a charge of vagrancy, when asked by the judge to give his name, answered, “David Gohome." The Judge contracted his brows. “Your last name again?" he asked. “Gobome," was the reply. “AH right, go ahead," said the judge, “that’s a new one on me."