Evening Republican, Volume 59, Number 90, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 May 1917 — The Faithful Soul [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Faithful Soul

By GEORGE ELMER COBB

(Copyright, by W. O. Chapman.) "And what about your past?” “She don’t know anything about that.” • . “But is sure to in time? “She will have to stand the shock, then, as other women have done. Really, the little beauty has bewitched me I There is np way for me but to sail under false colors." ♦ “You unmitigated villain!” It was not one of two engaged in conversation who uttered the last ~words. They were spoken under his breath by Ward Evans. He was seated in one of those old-fashioned booths or partitioned off compartments of an old-fashioned restaurant in Rockton. He had overheard a specious pair disclose a villainous plot in the next stall. One was its inceptor, a graceless criminal. The other was Indifferently in harmony with the plans and principles of his companion. The former was Bryce Williard, exconvict, bigamist, devoid of respectability and honor and boasting of a prospective rendezvous with a fair young girl to whom he had taken a passing fancy. He had spoken her name and it conveyed a certain intelligence ty Evans. He knew its owner casually. He was interested to the extent that she was about to become

the guileless victim of a villain and all his sense of manhood was stirred within him. His life held little of hope or comfort, for he was an invalid and had been for years. Money and social eminence at his command, existence had become vapid, profitless, well-nigh unendurable. He was no physical match for the burly scoundrel who was about to elope with the daughter of a humble resident of Rockton, yet Evans was resolved to thwart him. He hurried from the restaurant. It was quite dusk, and it was within half an hour that Willlard had arranged to meet Lilias Deane at a certain spot at the edge of the town. Eva ns proceeded i n its direc tlon. He consulted his watch and calculated that he would reach the place in advance of Williard. He was none too strong, however, and his gait became lagging and slow under the strain of the unusual exercise. Half an hour later he entered a little grove. Looking back he saw Williard a few hundred yards behind him. Looking ahead he made out the girl Lilias, a satchel in her hand, shrinking to the shelter of a great tree. He lifted his hat as he neared her and she bowed in return in a fluttering, embarrassed way. He halted. The movement was unexpected on the part of the girl. Casually several times in the past he had thus recognized her, but they had never spoken. He spoke now. , “Miss Deane,” he said hurriedly, -with a glance back to assure himself of the distance away of Williard, “will you kindly walk on with me? I have something of great importance to say

to you." «I_l.y es> certainly," she stammered, but her gait was reluctant as she kept pace with him. She had always Evans far above her humble family in the ■way of wealth and social position. As • friendly neighbor, as a hopeless invalid, as she had heard, she could not very well decline his suggestion, although her mind was entirely with the man who must soon overtake them. “You must trust and believe me,” went on Evans, gravely and insistently. “By chance, but beyond a doußt, I have learned that the person for whom you are about to abandon home and friends is a scoundrel.” Fhe came to a dead standstill,' her face wh’lte, resentful and unbelieving. ‘'There is no time to discuss this,” proceeded Evans rapidly. “You have been grossly deceived, as I can prove to yob. You must not meet this man. Oo home, and I will later convince you ot the truth of what I say.” His earnestness held her, his superior willpower drove back perversity. She swayed as if about to faint.

“He is a bigamist,” added Evaqs. “Trust me, I am acting in the /batter wholly for your own good, to avoid the misery and heartbreak of those at home who love you. Hasten, I beg of you." “Lilias!” called the voice of Williard, for he had nearly reached them now. The girl uttered a muffled sob and hurried away. Evans put up his hand and halted the scoundrel as he approached. “You are unmasked and your intended victim knows of your true character and designs,” spoke Evans, and his calm dignity abashed the wretch. “If you take one step after that young lady I will have you under lock and key within five minutes. Go your way. Your evil schemes are baffled.” The man slunk away like a beaten cur. Once again Evans saw Lilias Deane. It was in the little park near her home. They sat on a bench engaged in conversation for over an ■hour. Evans disclosed all that he had learned of Williard. and Lilias was shocked, appalled, and then the tears of gratitude came into her eyes as she realized what this disinterested friend had saved her from.

“Oh, never, never will I forget your kind care for me!” she sobbed. “Wherever you are I shall think of you, and pray that the greatest good may come to you,” and she bent and kissed his hand, and watched him go away, and took up the old home duties, shuddering whenever she recounted how narrowly she had escaped the wiles of a heartless adventurer. It was a year later when the news came to Rockton of the death of Ward Evans. He was one of over fifty overtaken in a volcanic island of the Pacific by an eruption. What had been recovered of his remains had been sent to his former home. A simple headstone in the village cemetery told of his cruel fate. And never Lilias forgot him! That last interview with him had left with her an impression of almost adoration for the noble spirit that, amid personal suffering, had paused to do her a vast servlce. _ ~r

His memory became to her an ideal. To her, though dead, he was more than any other man living. Every week she would visit the little cemetery. and, seated on a grass plot near the lowly grave, would weave a wreath of the choicest wild flowers and place them upon the little mound. “He was all that is noble and good,” she murmured-one day, as she kissed the simple wreath she had made, andT set it in place. “He has made my life sweet with its Impulses of duty, and I love him, I love him !” She looked up, startled, for someone was approaching. She hurriedly brushed the tears from here eyes. Then, with clear, astonished vision, she recognized—Ward Evans ! The hue of health was in his face. He was a changed man. He came forward with extended hand. He rioted the shock of his unexpected presence, and in his usual quiet way sought to reassure her. “My grave,” he said with a slight smile. “The error in my identification was worth while, to prove that I have one devoted friend in the world.” “And they said you w’ere dead —and I —oh, I remembered!” “Bless you!” he spoke solemnly. “Perhaps your thoughts and your prayers guided and protected me.” She took his proffered arm. A hush, holy, serene, fell across them as they proceeded down the tree-shaded path and into the full glowing sunlight, and in his heart of hearts Ward Evans felt that in this congenial spirit he had found a life-long companion.

Really, the Little Beauty Has Bewitched Me!”