Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 137, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 June 1917 — The Wayward Spirit [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Wayward Spirit

By WALTER JOSEPH DELANEY

(Copyright, ISI7, by W. G. Chapman.) . “Why, that was Bayne Wetherell! Didn’t you. know he had returned to Bockton, Miss Leslie?” - “I did not,” replied the lady addressed. Her lips were compressed, her intonation icy and repellant, yet a marked momentary pallor faded out the bloom in her fair cheeks arid her lissome figure swayed slightly, as though impelled by some powerful emotion. ~ l i Her companion said nothing. There had suddenly flashed into her mind — the past! Three years previous, she had recalled, it had been cqmmon rumor in the town that Ina Leslie arid Bayne Wetherell were engaged. Then, abruptly, he had gone away. No one ever ventured to question the proud, high-spirited Miss Leslie as to the mystery of his disappearance, and she had never revealed even to her closest friends the cause of their parting. But in her heart she knew, aye 1 bitterly knew, that fate had stepped In between them. Before she even knew that Wetherell had left the village she had received a letter from him In a distant town, written hurriedly. It told her that he had follow’ed the call of an urgent duty, that he would explain later. In a flash the quick temper of the girl he idolized took flame. “To leave me without a word, to withhold secrets from me, to place this mysterious ‘duty’ before me!” And forthwith Ina wrote a cold, harsh letter to the distant town. Then there were weary heartbreaking weeks and month. She did not hear from him again. Her letter was all but a dismissal. She began to realize that she had been cruel, that hers was the fault. One day, contrite and tender, she wrote again. There was no reply. “He has forgotten me. Perhaps —he only wished to get rid of me. Oh I the sting of having humbled myself in this unworthy way!” and colder, more haughty than ever grew that wayward heart. And now—he had come back to Bockton. They had met face to face. He looked older, sadder. He had lifted

his hat, but with his eyes downcast, as Miss Leslie, her head high in the air, passed him as too contemptible to notice and he dared not face the ordeal. His unexpected . presence disturbed her. The next day Ina learned that he had taken a small cottage in a lonely spot remote from the village center. “And what do ■you think?” chattered her voluble Informant, “he has a baby with him.” Ina stared in silence, a strange chill at her heart. “People think,” resumed the gossiper, “that he is a widower. He must have married since he left Rockton.” “And the —child?” muttered Ina, half conscious that she spoke at all. “A pretty little girl about two yearsold, those say who have seen her. Isn’t it strange, his having the care alone of the little mite? You know the old cottage is his own. I suppose he got heartsick and homesick after the death of his wife and longed for old friends and the like.” To Ina all this was a direct affront. How dared Bayne Wetherell intrude upon her sorrow, her conteriipt, she put it, after basely deserting her! It was well the public did not know’ the rag|ng tempest in her Inmost soul. She avoided any further Inquiries regarding Wetherell. She hoped he w’ould go away soon. Then she- learned that this had come about. “Mr. Wetherell returned to Rockton thinking that some relatives who were here when he left, might be induced to take the little child,” a lady caller told her. “Now he is trying to find a home for her with others, they say.” One day Ina, without being aware of it, came into a rdad beyond the village which she discovered passed the old cottage. She turned to avoid passing it, when she noticed a token of unusual excitement about the place. Putting •n his coat Bayne Wetherell dashed ’ t'K <

through the open doorway and started at full speed in the direction of the town. ' ’At the same moment loud wailing cries reached the ears of Ina. They proceeded from the cottage—the utterance of a child in pain. She halted her retreating steps. Her true, tender ■ heart told her that it would be inhu*man to leave a helpless infant in distress. Plainly Ina traced that the little one had been 111, that the urgency of Wetherell had for its purpose a call for relief from the village. Ina turned about and reached the cottage. She glanced within. On a lounge lay a little child, writhing’in pain and moaning feebly. — “I cannot leave the little one to suffer, even if he returns,” she said. “Poor little creature!’-’ and she took up the child In her arms. She tried to quiet it, gave it a drink of water, and her ministrations soon comforted the sufferer. She had wrapped it, cozy and warm, and was pacing the floor with it, when a hurrying figure , crossed the threshold. ' . ' - ■ " _ “You—you —Ina, Miss Leslie!” stammered Wetherell and he receded with a shock. “Oh, this is good of you! Is little Ruth better? If you will hold her for a moment till I give her some of the medicine I got from the doctor. Oh, thank you! thank you!” She stood like stone as he returned from the kitchen with a glass of water with some of the medicine in it. She held the child till the same was administered. She then placed it on the bed. Her face was a stern, dead blank as she turned to the door. She halted suddenly. For the first time—she noticed hanging on the wall a framed photograph. It was one she had given Wetherell three years before. With passionate haste she tore it from its hook.

“How dare you!” she cried, her eyes flashing. A weary, sad smile that puzzled her, that somewhat calmed her excess of emotion passed over the worn face of Wetherell. “The same high spirit!” he murmured, and regretfully. “It is mine, though.” "I take it away!” flared forth Ina. “As you like,” he said, with a helpless gesture, “but why? See, the dear little orphan is putting out her hands pleadingly. Kiss her, Ina, before you gp. It will be a comfort to me. It’s father, my brother, died first. That broke the mother’s heart. I had done all I could for them for two years and then the little one was left on my hands. I could not leave it to the cold mercies of the world, so I came here. If you would find me someone who would care for it, I would pay liberally. You see, I cannot take work and leave the child alone and —why, Ina!” She was kneeling by the side of the bed, the little one’s arms lovingly clasped about her neck. Ina was sobbing. Her gentle soul was at last illumined with the true light. “I have wronged you—oh, so cruelly!” she uttered. “And I mocked the path of duty you so nobly followed. Forgive! forgive!” She incoherently sobbed out her woful story, and he more calmly brought to light that, removing from the town whither she had sent the letter he had never received Jhe missive. Then there were three entwined, for the little child had drawn “dear Uncle Bayne” beside this “new Aunty,” and when Ina finally left the little cottage, she had promised to return some day ns its mistress to be a second mother to the loving little waif.

Started at Full Speed in the Direction of the Town.