Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 84, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 January 1919 — North of fifty-three [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

North of fifty-three

by Bertrand W. Sinclair

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- SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I—The etory opens In the town of GrAnvlUe, Ontario, where Miss Hazel Weir Is employed as a stenographer In the office of Harrington and Bush. Bhe Is engaged to Jack Barrow, a young real estate agent, and the wedding day is set. While walking wjth him one Sunday they 'meet Mr. Bush, Hazel’s employer, who for the first time seems to notice her attractiveness. Shortly afterward, at his request, she becomes his private rapher. After three months Mr. Bush proposes marriage, which Hazel declines, and after a stormy scene In the office Hazel leaves her employment, Mr. Bush warning her he would make her sorry for him. CHAPTER ll—Bush makes an effort, by 'a gift of flowers, to compromise Hazel In ’the minds of her friends. She returns 'them. The next day Bush Is thrown from his horse and fatally hurt. He sends for ‘Hazel, who refuses to see him before he 'dies. Three days afterward it Is announced that he left a legacy of $6,000 to Hazel, “in reparation for any wrong I may have done her." Hazel recognizes at once what construction will be put upon ithe words. Bush had his revenge. V, CHAPTER 111. 'j An Explanation Demanded. * Hazel’s pride came to her rescue be*for she was half-way home. Instinctively she had turned to that refuge, where she could lock herself in her own room and cry her protest against it all. But she had done no wrong, nothing of which to be ashamed, and when the first shock of the news ar- j tide wore off, she threw up her head and refused to consider what the world at large might think. So she went back to the office at one o’clock and took up her work. Long before eveElng she sensed that others had read le Gazette. Not that anyone menftloned it, but sundry curious glances (made her painfully aware of the fact. She had just reached the first landling of her boarding house when she iheard the telephone bell, and a second [or two later the landlady called. “Oh, Miss Weir! Telephone.” Barrow’s voice hailed her over the line. *TII be out by seven,” said he. “We |had better take a walk. We can’t talk j In the parlor; there’ll probably be a (lot of old tabbies there out of sheer Icurioslty.” “All right,” Hazel agreed, and hung up. She dressed herself. Unconsciously the truly feminine asserted its dominance—the woman anxious to please and propitiate her lover. She put on a dainty summer dress, rearranged her hair, powdered away all trace of the tears that insisted on coming as soon

las she reached the sanctuary of her own room. And then she watched for Jack from a window that commanded the street. Barrow appeared at last. She went |down to meet him before he rang the t>ell. Just behind him came a tall Iman In a gray suit. This Individual Iturned In at the gate, bestowing a nod fupon Barrow and a keen glance at her jas he passed. “That’s Grlnell* from the Times,” (Barrow muttered sourly. “Come on; (let's get away from here. I suppose (he’s after you for an interview.” Hazel turned in beside him silently. {Right at the start she found herself Iresenting Barrow’s tone, his manner. (She had done nothing to warrant susjpldon from him. But she loved him, and she hoped she could convince him (that it was no more than a passing unpleasantness, for which she was nojwise to blame. “Hang it 1” Barrow growled, before jthey had traversed the first block. ("Here conges Grinelll I suppose that lold cat of a landlady pointed us out. liNo dodging him now.” “There’s no earthly reason why I (should dodge him, as you put It,” Hajsel replied stiffly. “I’m not an escaped (criminal.” Barrow shrugged his shoulders in a jway that mdtde Hazel bring her teeth [together and want to shake him. 1 Grlnell by then was hurrying up with long strides. Hat in hand, he bowed to her. “Miss Hazel Weir, I believe?” he interrogated. % “Yes,” she confirmed. "I’m on the Times, Miss Weir,” Grlnell went straight to the business in hand. “You are aware, I presume, that Mr. Andrew Bush willed you a sum of money under rather peculiar conditions —that is, the bequest was worded in a peculiar way. Probably

you nave seen a rererence to xt la tne papers. It has caused a great deal of interest The Times would be pleased to have a statement from you which will tend to set at the curiosity of the public. Some or the other papers have Indulged In unpleasant innuendo. We would be pleased to publish your side of the matter.” “I have no statement to make,” Hazel said coolly. “I am not in the least concerned with what the papers print or what the people say. I absolutely refuse to discuss the matter.” Grinell continued to point out—with the persistence and persuasive logic of a good newspaper man be*nt on learning what his paper wants to know—the desirability of her giving forth a statement. And in the midst of his argument Hazel bade him a curt “good evening” and walked on. Barrow kept step with her. Grinell gave It up for a bad Job, evidently, for he turned back. They walked five blocks without a word. Hazel glanced at Barrow now and then, and observed with an uncom J sortable sinking of the hesfrt that he was sullen, openly resentful, suspicious. “Johnnle-boy,” she said suddenly, “don’t look so cross. Surely you don’t blame me because Mr. Bush wills me a sum of money in a way that makes people wonder?” “I can’t understand It at all,” he said slowly. “It’s very peculjar —and deucedly unpleasant Why should he leave you money at all? And why should he word the will as he dlu? What wrong did he ever do you?” “None,” Hazel answered shortly. His tone wounded her, cut her deep, so eloquent was it of distrust. “The only wrong he, has done me lies in willing me that money as he did.”

“But there’s an explanation for that,” Barrow declared moodily. “There’s a key to the mystery, and if anybody has It you have. What is it?” “Jack,” Hazel pleaded, “don’t take that tone with me. I can’t stand It—l won’t. I’m not a little child to be scolded and browbeaten. This morning when you telephoned you were almost insulting, and it hurt me dreadfully. You’re angry now, and suspicious. You seem to think I must have done sbme dreadful thing. I know what you’re thinking. The Gazette hinted at some ‘affair’ between me and Mr. Bush; that possibly that was a sort of left-handed reparation for ruining me. If that didn’t make me angry, it would amuse me—it’s so absurd. Haven’t you any faith In me at all? I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. I’ve got nothing to conceal.” - “Don’t conceal it, then,” Barrow muttered sulkily. “I’ve got a right to know whatever there is to know if I’m going to marry you. You don’t seem to have any idea what this sort of talk that’s going around means to a man.” Hazel stopped short and faced him. Her heart pounded sickenlngly, and hurt pride and rising anger choked her for an instant. But she managed to 6peak calmly, perhaps with added calmness by reason of the struggle she was compelled to make for selfcontrql.

“If you are going to marry me,” she repeated, “you have got a right to know all there Is to know. Have I refused to explain? I haven’t had much chance to explain yet. Have I refused to tell you anything? Would any reasonable explanation make an Impression on you In your present frame of mind. I don’t want to marry you If you can’t trust me. Why, I couldn’t —I wouldn’t —marry you any time, or any place, under those conditions, no matter how much I may foolishly care for you.” “There’s just one thing, Hazel,” Barrow persisted stubbornly. “There must have been something between you and Bush. You’re not helping yourself by getting on your dignity and talking about my not trusting you, Instead of explaining these things.” “A short time ago,” Hazel told him quietly, “Mr. Bush asked me to marry him. I refused, of course. He —” “You refused 1” Barrow interrupted cynically. “Most girls would have jumped at the chance.” a “Jackl” she protested. “Well,” Barrow defended, “he was almost a millionaire, and I’ve got nothing but my hands and my brain. But suppose you did refuse him. How does that account for the five thousand dollars?” “I think,” Hazel flung back passionately, “I’ll let you find that out for yourself. You’ve said enough now to make me hate you almost. Your very manner’s an insult." “If you don’t like my manner —” Barrow retorted stormlly. Then he cut his sentence in two, and glared at her. The twin devils of jealousy and distrust were riding him hard, and it flashed over Hazel that In his mind she was prejudged,, and that her explanation, if she made it, would only add fuel to the flame. She turned abruptly and left him. What did It matter, anyway? She was too proud to plOad, and it was worse than useless to explain. Even so, womanlike, she listened, expecting to hear Jack’s step hurrying up behind. She could not imagine him letting her go like that. But he did

not Come, and when, at a distance of two blocks, she stole . a backward glance, he had disappeared. She returned to the boarding house. The parlor door stood wide, and tha curious, quickly averted glance of a girl she knew sent her quivering up to her room. There was only one cheerful gleam. She loved Jack Barrow. She believed that he loved her, and she could not believe-—she could not conceive—him capable of keeping aloof, obdurate and unforgiving, once he got out of the black mood he was in. She was still sitting by the window, watching the yellow crimson of the sunset, when someone rapped at her door. A uniformed messenger bojr greeted her when she opened It: “Package for Miss Hazel Weir.” She signed the delivery sheet. The address on the package was in Jack’s handwriting. A box of chocolates, or some little peace offering, maybe. That was like Jack when he was sorry for anything. They had quarreled before—over trifles, too. She opened it hastily. A swift heartsinking followed. In the small cardboard box rested a folded scarf, and thrust in it a small gold stickpin—the*only thing she hrfd ever given Jack Barrow. There was no message. She needed none to understand. The sparkle of the small diamond on her finger’ drew her gaze. She worked his ring over the knuckle, and dropped it on the dresser, where the face in the silver frame smiled up at her. She stared at the picture for one long minute fixedly, with unchanging expression, and suddenly she swept It from the dresser with a savage sweep of her hand, dashed It on the floor, and stamped it shapeless with her slippered heel. “Oh, oh!’’ she gasped. “I hate you— I hate you! I despise you I” I And then she flung herself across bed and sobbed hysterically into • dlUaw. • _ JTO BE CONTINUED.)

Watched for. Jack From a Window That Commanded the Street.