Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 January 1914 — THROUGH ACIDTEST [ARTICLE]

THROUGH ACIDTEST

By KATHERINE HOPSON.

Stephen Miles sat stunned, while the letter fell unheeded from his fingers. - "I can’t believe it—l can’t —” he exclaimed over and over. Then he picked up Avis Cordon’s letter again and reread the last page: “I hope what I’m going to say won’t hurt you, Stephen. We have been very good friends, and I hope always shall be, but this is probably the last letter I shall ever write you, for I am going to be married in October. My fiance is a man f met this summer while visiting Uncle Alfred, in Denver. Robert Harley is owner of a large silver mine In the Tahoe valley, and is a man of ability who inspires one with confluence." '. - : .L._ ~ • . . At this last sentence Stephen winced. “I'hat’s more than she could say of me. But it wasn’t because I didn’t try to make good." His mind went back over the past, which seemed a series of misfortunes, beginning with loss of health, then position and prospects, And now, after two years of fierce struggle he had t regained all three. “But on the eve of success I have lost my sweetheart.” . There was a wounded boyish look in his gray eyes. “I don’t' wonder she grew tired of waiting—and an offer from another man In settled, comfortable circumstances seemed attractive after the tales of discouragement which were all I had to give her for so long! But, oh, Avis! Avis! If only you had held on a little longer, all, would have come right for us!” He laid his head down on the old student table- —where for so many nights after a weary evening’s work, he had written his daily letter to Avis. That hour for writing had been the brightest one of the 24. “If I’d received this letter six months ago—or even four, it would merely have seemed part of my chapter of bad luck, but now when I thought things had taken a turn for the better, this comes as a knock-out blow.” For a long time he sat with head bowed on his arm in thoughtful silence, then he straightened up. “Well, it’s a blow I must take like a man.” Squaring his shoulders he got out writing materials and wrote —wrote in the graceful, kindly way which had always characterized him even in moments of deepest discouragement,? and wished her all good luck and happiness. ■ There was another moment of anguish wheir he wrapped up her letters and photograph to send back. They had helped him over so many hard places. “If I could only keep this,” thought he, as he looked at her Idcture. Id a way he was glad he did not know the exact date of her wedding. Yet each day during the month of October he wondered if this were the one. He had intended to return this fall to the old town in Ohio to visit his parents. But he could not go now —not until Avis was married and gone from there. He decided to accept an offer he had received of a position in Montana. His train left St. Paul late in the evening, but he entered the Pullman early .to get well settled. With a sense of relief he laid down his grip and prepared to make himself comfortable in the seat, when he glanced carelessly through the car—and there before him, across the aisle, sat Avis and —the man. \

Stephen stared in blank amazement. "Well, of all predicaments!” he.ejaculated. "I have tried to give her up with the best grace possible, but I’m not equal to sitting across from her for two days and witnessing another man’s happiness. Besides, the situation would be a bit embarrassing for her. Quietly he picked up his bag and left the car. He tfent tack to the ticket office and arranged to have his berth changed to another car. It was necessary for him to go on that train to meet his business appointment, but lie could and would avoid the bridal couple. He toould time hiß going into the diner so as not to meet them. The first day he was successful. They seemed always to go in at the first call, but at noon the second day they were late,' and Stephen, supposing they had come and gone, was just beginning his dinner when they entered. They went to. the end table, and Avis did not see him. Her back was turned, but he could see her face reflected in the mirror. It was not a happy face. For one moment Stephen felt a human gleam of satisfaction that she had not found the anticipated joy with this other man. Then like the acid test which brings out gold from dross, bis better nature rose from its straggle to (he surface, and there surged over him a wave of tender pity. Avis —his Avis —had evidently made a terrible mistake—and it was for all her life long. He studied her reflection. The eyes were sad, and there lurked a look of tragedy in their violet depths. His gaze shift--ed to her husband as he sat facing her. He sat studying the bill of fare with Intentness. It was evidently a matter of much moment what he ordered. |* Sick at heart. Stephen left the diner. “If I thought she were happy, 1 would try to conquer my primitive jealousy and be happy. But now—oh, hers is not the face of a happy woman. And to think—it’s Avis!** The train stopped at a station for a law minutes, and ha got out and

strode savagely up and down the platform. That afternoon the man strolled into the smoking car and sitting down beside Stephen he began to talk abont a hunting expedition he was going to join In Montana. His air of braggadocio made Stephen like him less and less. All his consideration seemed centered about himßelf and no mention made of his bride. “Will yodr wife accompany you on the trip?” Stephen found himself asking, his voice strangely unnatural. “Oh, no, she isn’t a good traveler, and doesn’t like to rough it,” was the careless rejoinder. Stephen’s blood boiled. So neglect was to be Avis’ portion before the honeymoon was scarcely begun! He left the smoker abruptly. He felt he could not answer for consequences if he remained. He was profoundly thankful whqn they reached Butte, where he was to change cars. And yet—could he go away and leave Avis in the keeping of that man who evidently failed to keep his vow to love and cherish ? It was a pale, set-faced young man tensely gripping his traveling bag who alighted. He bad fought the matter out with himself and decided that the kindest things he could do was to go away and npt add to her discomfiture by a dramatic scene. Many * passengers were getting ,off and on, and as his train was not due for a couple of hours, Stephen waited until the first confusion had passed before entering the station. By the time the long overland train had steamed away into the darkness he was alone, save for one other passenger, evidently of the same mind about waiting. She was looking around in a bewildered way. As she turned, and the light from the station fell on her face, he saw, to his amazement, it was Avis. “Why is it? What’s the reason?” his quick mind questioned. Her face looked strained and resolute, and her big eyes were piteous. _ Gently he spoke her name, so as not to frighten her. But she started in nervous terror. Then she realized who it was. “Oh, Stephen, Stephen,” she half sobbed. “What is it, Avis? Where is your husband ?” “My husband?” p “The man you were with," he returned, grimly. “Oh —my uncle?” “Your uncle!” It was his turn for astonishment. “Why, yes, Uncle Fred Sangster, Aunt Mollie’s husband. She was with us, too, but the poor dear was terribly car sick, and had to stay in her apartment most of the time. What a funny mistake.” They laughed. Then his face became serious. “But your letter said— It is past time for your wedding —” The tragic look returned to her face. “The wedding did not come to pass, nor will it ever.. A week before the date set for our marriage I learned some things by accent about the man I was to marry—and I gave him back his ring. That is all —except that it’s my pride more than my heart that’s hurt. A position was offered me to teach here in 'th'e Butte &hools —and I came.” He scarcely heeded what she was saying, except that she was free. “Some cousins were to meet me here —but our train was late —and they aren’t here —” Full realization returned to Stephen with a rush. “I’ll see you safely to their home, if yowll allow me. I -will take care of you now —always, Avis!” ••“Always is a long time,” she laughed. (Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)