Hammond Times, Volume 1, Number 162, Hammond, Lake County, 27 December 1906 — Page 6

PAGE SIX.

THE LAKE COUNTY -TIMES Thursday, Doc. 27, 1906.

r4

1 1 1 i s

THE

By KATHERINE CECIL THURSTON, Author of "The Circle," Etc.

Copyright. 1005. 1904. it set-men to uiat mgnt l amea with the P'raldes," she went on. "Mr. Fraide talked so wisely and so kindly about so taacy things. He recalled all we had hoped for in you, and and he blamed me a little." She paused and laid her cup aside. "lie said that when people have made what they call their last effort they should always make just one effort more. He promised that If I cauld onco persuade you to take an Interest in your work he would do the rest. He said all that and a thousand other kinder things, and I Bat and listened. But all the time I thought of nothing but their usclessness. Before I left I promised to do my best, but my thought was still the same. It was stronger than ever when I forced myself to come up here" She paused again and glanced at Loder's averted heed. "But I came, and then, as If by conquering myself I bad compelled a reward, you seemed, you somehow seemed different. It sounds ridiculous, I know." Her voice was half amused, half deprecating. "It wasn't a difference la your face, though I knew directly that you were free from nerves." Again she hesitated over the word. "It was a difference In yourself, In the things you said, mors than in tho way you said them." Once more she paused and laughed a lfttle. I Loder's discomfort grew. "But It didn't affect me then." She cpoke more slowly. "I wouldn't admit it then. And the next day when we talked on the terrace I still refused to admit It, though I felt It more strongly than before. But I have watched you eince that day, and I know there Is a change. Mr. Fralde feels the same, and ho is never mistaken. I know It's only nine or ten days, but I've hardly seen you in tho same mood for nine or ten hours in the last three years." She stopped, and the silence was impressive. It seemed to plead for confirmation of her instinct. Still Loder could find no response. After waiting for a moment she leaned forward In her chair and looked up at him. "John," she said, "is It golnjr to last? That's what I came to ask. I don't want to believe till I'm sure. I don't want to risk a new disappointment." Loder felt the earnestness of her gaze, though he avoided meeting it. "I couldn't have said this to you a week a so, but today I can. I don't rretend to explain why. The feeling is too Inexplicable. I only know that I can say it now and that I couldn't a week ngo. Will you understand and answer?" Still Loder remained mute. His posi tion was horribly Incongruous. What could he say? What dared he say? Confused by his silence. Eve rose. "If it's only a phase, don't try to hide it," she said. "But if it's going to last if by any possibility it's going to last" She hesitated and looked up. She was quite close to him. He would have been less than man had he been unconscious of the subtle contact of her glance, the nearness of her presence, and no oae had ever hinted that man hood was lacking in him. It was a moment of temptation. Ills own energy, his own intentions, seemed bo near, Chilcote aud Chllcote's claims so distant and unreal. After all, his life, his ambitions, his determinations, were his own. He lifted his eyes and looked at her. "You want me to tell yon that I will go on?" he said. iter eyes brightened, sue took a stop forward. "Yes," she said; "I want It more than anything in the world." There was a wait. The declaration that va-uld satisfy her came to Loder's ltps. but he delayed it. The delay was fateful. While he stood silent the door opened, and tbo servant who had brought la the tea reappeared. He crossed the room ar Landed Lo der a telegram. "Any answer, sir?" he said. Eve moved back to her chair. There was a flush on her cheeks, and her eyes were still atertly bright. . Lodor tore tho telegram open, read it, then threw it into the fire. "No answer!" ho. said laconically. At the brusqnouoss of his voice Eve looked up. "Disagreeable news?" she said as the servant departed. He didn't look at her. He was watching the telegram withering in the center of the tire. "No," he said at last In a strained voice. "No; only news that I that I bad forgotten to expect." C II AFTER XI. HERE was a silence, an uneasy break, after Loder spoke. The episode of the telegram was, to all appearances, ordinarv enough, calling forth Eve's question and his own reply as a natural sequence, yet in the pause that followed it each was conscious of a jar, each was aware that in some subtle way the thread of sympathy had been dropped, though to one the cause was inexplicable and to the other only too plain. "-Loder watched the ghost cf his message grow whiter and thinner, then dissolve into airy fragments and flutter up the chimney. As the last morsel wavered out of sLjiit he turned and looked at his companion. "You almost made me commit myseli'," he said. In the desire, to hide bid ftnlint?i Li. -j tone was short.

by Harper fc Brother

Eve returned his glance with a quiet regard, but he scarcely saw It He had a stupefied sense of disaster, a feeling of bitter self commiseration that for the moment outweighed all other considerations. Almost at the moment of justification the good of life had crum bled in his fingers, the soil given be neath his feet, and with an absence of logic, a lack of justice unusual In him, he let resentment against Chilcote sweep suddenly over his mind. Eve, still watching him, saw the dark ening of his expression and with a quiet movement rose from her chair. 'Lady Sarah has a theater party to night, and I am dining with her," she said. "It is an early dinner, so I must think about dressing. I'm sorry you think I tried to draw you Into any thing. I must have explained myself badly." She laughed a little to cover the slight discomfiture that her tone betrayed, and as she laughed 6he moved across the room toward the door. Loder, engrossed In the check to his own schemes, Incensed at the sudden ness of Chllcote's recall and still more Incensed at his own folly In not having anticipated It, was oblivious for the moment of both her movement and her words. Then quite abruptly they obtruded themselves upon him, break ing through his egotism with some thing of the sharpness of pain following a blow. Turnlrig quickly from the fireplace, he faced the shadowy room across which she had passed, but si multaneously with his turning she gained the door. The knowledge that she was gone struck him with a sense of double. loss. "Walt!" he called, suddenly moving forward. But almost at onco he paused, chilled by the solitudo of the room. "Eve!" he said, using her name unconsciously for the first time. But tho corridor, as well as the room, was empty; he was too late. He stood Irresolute; then he laughed shortly, turned and passed back toward the fireplace. The blow had fallen, the inevitable come to pass, and nothing remained but to take the fact with as good a grace as possible. Chllcote's telegram had summoned him to Clifford's ban at 7 o'clock, and it was now well on toward 6. He pulled ou his watch Chilcote's watch, he realized with a touch of grim humor as he stooped to examine the dial by the light of the fire then, as if the humor had verged to another feeling, he stood straight again and felt for the electric button in the wall. Ills fingers touched it. and simultaneously the room was lighted. The abrupt alteration from shadow to light came almost as a shock. The feminine arrangement of the tea table seemed Incongruous beside the sober books and the desk laden with papers incongruous as his own presence In the place. The thought was unpleasant, and he turned aside as if to avoid it, but at the movement his eyes fell on Chllcote's cigarette box with its gleaming monogram, and the whimsical suggestion of his first morning rose again. The idea that the inanimate objects in tho room knew him for what he was, recognized the Inter loper where human eyes saw the right ful possessor, returned to bis mind Through all his disgust and chagrin a smile forced itself to his lips, and, crossing the room for the second time, bo passed into Chilcote'3 bedroom. There the massive furniture and somber atmosphere fitted better with his mood than the energy and action which the study always suggested. Walking directly to the great bed. he sat on Its side and for several minutes stared straight in front of him, apparently seeing nothing; then at last the apathy passed from him, as his previous auger against Chilcote had passed. He stood up slowly, drawing his long limbs together, and recrossed the room, passing along the corridor and through the door communicating with the rest of the house. Five minutes later be was in the open air and walk ing steadily eastward, his hat drawn forward and his overcoat buttoned up As he traversed the streets he allow ed himself no thought. Once, as he waited In Trafalgar square to find a passage between the vehicles, the re membrance of Chilcote's voice coming out of the fog on their first night made itself prominent, but he rejected It quickly, guarding himself from even an Involuntary glance at the place of their meeting. The Strand, with Its unceasing life, came to him as something almost unfamiliar. Since his Identification with the new life no business had drawn him east of Charing Cross, and his first sight of the narrower stream of traffic struck him as garish and unpleasant. As the impression came he accelerated his steps, moved, by the wish to make regret and retrospection alike Impossible by a contact with actual forces. Still walking hastily, he entered Clifford's Inn. but there almost unconsciously his feet halted. There was something In the quiet Immutability of the place that sobered energy, both mental and physical; a sense of changelessness the changelessness of Inanimate things, that rises in such solemn contrast to the variableness of mere human -nature, which a new en-

Tlronment, a new outiooa, Baiuenat

even a new presence, has power to up heave and remold, ne paused, then with slower and steadier steps crossed the little court and mounted the familiar stairs of his own house. As he turned the handle of his own door some one stirred Inside the sitting room. Still under the Influence of the stones and trees that he had just left. he moved directly toward the sound and, without waiting for permission, entered the room. After the darkness of the passage It seemed well alight. for, besides the lamp with Its green shade, a large fire burned in the grate and helped to dispel the shadows. As he entered the room Chllcote rose and came forward, his figure thrown Into strong relief by the double light. He was dressed In a shabby tweed suit; his face looked pale and set with a slightly nervous tension. But, besides the look and a certain added restlessness of glance, there was no visible change. Reaching Loder, he held out his hand. "Well?" he said quickly. The other looked at him questlonIngly. Well? Well? How has it gone?" The scheme? Oh, excellently!" Lo der's manner was abrupt. Turning from the restless curiosity In Chllcote's eyes, he moved a little way across the room and began to draw off his coat. Then, as if struck by the incivility of the action, he looked back again. "The scheme has gone extraordinarily," he said. "I could almost say absurdly. There are some things, Chilcote, that fairly b&wl a man over." A great relief tinged Chilcote's face. Good!" he exclaimed. "Tell me all about it." But Loder was reticent. The mo ment was not propitious. It was as If a hungry man had dreamed a great banquet and had awakened to hl3 starvation. He was chary of Imparting his visions. There's nothing to tell," he said shortly. "All that you'll want to know is here in black and white. I don't think you'll find I have slipped any thing. It's a clear business record." From an Inner pocket he drew out a bulky notebook and, recrossing the room, laid it open on the table. It was a correct, even a minute, record of every action that had been accomplished in Chilcote's name. "I dsn't think you'll find any loose ends," he said as he turned back the pages. "I had you and your position in my mind all through." He paused and glanced up from the book. "You have a position that absolutely insists upon attention," he added in a different voice. At the new tone Chilcote looked up as well. "No moral lectures!" he said, with a nervous laugh. "I was anxious to know if you had pulled It off and you have reassured me. That's enough. I was In a funk this afternoon to know how things were going one of those sudden, unreasonable funks. But now that I see you" he cut himself short and laughed once more "now that I see you, I'm hanged if I don't want to prolong your engagement." Loder glanced at him, then glanced away. He felt a quick shame at the eagerness that rose at the words a surprised contempt at his own readiness to anticipate the man's weakness. But almost as speedily as he had turned away he looked back again. "Tush, man!" he said, with his old intolerant manner. "You're dreaming. You've had your holiday, and school's begun again. You must remember you are dining with the Charrlngtons tonight. Young Charrlngton's coming of age quite a big business. Come along. I want my clothes." He laughed and, moving closer to Chilcote, slapped him on the shoulder. Chilcote started; then, suddenly becoming Imbued with the other's manner, he echoed the laugh. "By Jove," he said, "you're right! You're quite right. A man must keep his feet in their own groove." Raising his hand, he began to fumble with his tie. But Loder kept the same position. "You'll find the check book in its usual drawer," he said. "I've made one entry of 100, pay for the first week. The rest can stand over until" He paused abruptly. Chilcote shifted his position. "Don't talk about that. It upsets me to anticipate. I can make out a check tomorrow payable to John Loder." "No. That can wait. The name of Loder is better out of the book. We can't be too careful." Loder spoke with unusual Impetuosity. Already a slight, unreasonable jealousy was coloring his thoughts. Already he grudged the idea of Chilcote with his unstable glance and restless fingers opening the drawers and sorting the papers that for one stupendous fortnight had been his without question. Turning aside. he changed the subject brusquely. "Come into the bedroom," be said. "It's half past 7 If it's a minute, and the Charrlngton's show is at 9." Without waiting for a reply, he walked across the room and held the door open. There was no silence while they exchanged clothes. Loder talked continuously, sometimes In short, curt sentences, sometimes with Ironic touches of humor; he talked until Chllcote, 6trangely affected by contact with another personality after his weeks of solitude, fell under bis influence, hl3 excitement rising, his imagination stirring at the novelty of change. At last, garbed once more in the clothes of hla own world, he passed from the bedroom back into, the sitting room and there halted, waiting for his companion. Almost directly Loder followed. Hi came Into the room quietly and, moving at once to the table, picked up th notebook. "I'm not going to preach," he began, "so you needn't shut me up. But I'll say just one thins a thing that .wui

!

get said. J.ry to K.eep your uoiu: Remember your responsibilities and keep your hold!" He spoke energetically, looking earnestly into Chilcote's eyes. He did not realize It. but he was pleading for his own career. Chilcote paled a little, as he always did In face of a reality. Then he extended his hand. "My dear fellow," he said, with a touch of hauteur, "a man can generally be trusted to look after his own life." Extricating his hand almost immediately, he turned toward the door and without a word of farewell passed Into the little hall, leaving Loder alone In the sitting room. CHARTER XII. N the night of Chilcote's return to his own Loder tasted the lees of life poignantly for 0 the first time. Before their carious compact had been entered upon he had been, if not content, at least apathetic; but with action the apathy had been dispersed, never again to regain its old position. He realized with bitter certainty that his was no real home coming. On entering Chilcote's house he had experienced none of the unfamlliarity, neue of the unsettled awkwardness, that assailed him now. There he had almost seemed the exile returning after many hardships; here, in the atmosphere made common by years, he felt an alien. It was Illustrative of the man's character that sentimentalities found no place In his nature. Sentiments were not lacking, though they lay out of sight, but sentimentalities he altogether denied. Left alone In the sitting room after Chllcote's departure, his first sensation was one of physical discomfort and unfamlliarity. His own clothes, with their worn looseness, brought no sense of friendliness such as some men find in an old garment. Lounging and the clothes that suggested lounging had no appeal for him. In his eyes the garb that implies responsibility was symbolic and even Inspiring. And as with clothes so with his actual surroundings. Each detail of his room was familiar, but not one had "You would not desert met" ever become intimately close. He had used the place for years, but he had used It as he might use a hotel, and whatever of his household gods had come with him remained, like himself, on sufferance. His entrance into Chilcote's surroundings had been altogether different. Unknown to himself, he had been in the position of a young artist who, having roughly modeled in clay, is brought into the studio of a sculptor. To his outward vision everything Is new, but his inner sight leaps to Instant understanding. Amid all the strangeness he recognizes the one essential the workshop, the atmosphere, the home. On this first night of return Loder comprehended something of his position, and, comprehending, he faced the problem and fought with it. He had made his bargain and must pay his share. Weighing this, he had looked about his room with a quiet gaze. Then at last, as if finding the object really sought for, his eyes had come round to the mantelpiece and rested on the pipe rack. The pipes stood precisely as he had left them. He had looked at them for a long time, thenn ironic expression that was almost a smile had touched his lips, and, crossing the room, he had taken the oldest and blackest from its place and slowly filled It with tobacco. With the first indrawn breath of smoke his attitude had unbent. Without conscious determination ho had chosen the one factor capable of easing his mood. A cigarette Is for the trivial moments of life; a cigar for its fulfillments, its pleasant, comfortable retrospections; but In real distress in the solving of question, the fighting of difficulty a pipe is man's eternal solace. So he had passed the first night of his return to the actualities of life. Next day his mind wns somewhat settled, and outward aid was not so essential; but, though facts faced him more solidly, they were nevertheless very drab In shade. The necessity for work, that blessed antidote to ennui, no longer forced him to endeavor. He was no longer penniless, but the money he possessed brought with it no desires. When a man has lived from hand to mouth for years and suddenly finds himself with 100 In his pocket the result Is sometimes curious. He finds with a vague sense of surprise that he has forgotten how to spend. That extravagance, like other artificial passions, requires cultivation. 1 This he realized eveu more fully on

f w f T ifif Hp jfi 'xc'T,y'i

the days that roiiowea tne mgnt cr ms first return, and with it was born a new bitterness. The man who has friends and no money may find life difllcult, but the man who has money and no friend to rejoice in his fortune or benefit by his generosity is aloof indeed. With the leaven of incredulity that works in all strong natures, Loder distrusted the professional beggar; therefore the charity that bestows easily and promiscuously was denied him, and of other channels of generosity he was too self contained to have learned the, secret. When depression falls upon a man of usually even temperament It descends with a double weight. The mercurial nature has a hundred counterbalancing devices to rid Itself of gloom a sudden lifting of spirit, a memory of other moods lived through, other blacknesses dispersed by time, but the man of level nature has none of these. Depression when it comes is Indeed depression; no phase of mind to be superseded by another phase, but a slackening of all the chords of life. It was through such a depression as this that he labored during three weeks, while 110 summons and no hint of remembrance came from Chilcote. nis position was peculiarly difficult, lie found no action In the present, and toward tho future he dared not trust himself to look. He had slipped the old moorings that familiarity had rendered endurable, but, having slipped them, he had found no substitute.

Such was his caso on tho last night of the three weeks and such his frame of mind as he crossed I leet street from Clifford's inn to Middle Temple lane. Tt was scarcelv 7 o'clock, but alreadv the dusk was falling. The great er press of vehicles had ceased, and the light of the street lamps gleamed back from the spaces of dry and polish ed roadway, worn smooth as a mirror by wheels aud hoofs. Something of the soliture of night that sits so ill on the strenuous city street was making Itself felt, though the throngs of people on the pathway still streamed eastward and westward, and the taverns made a busy trade. Having crossed the roadway, Loder paused for a moment to survey the scene. But humanity In the abstract made small anneal to him. and his glance wandered from the passorsby to the buildings massed like clouds against the dark sky. A3 his gaze mov ed slowlv from one to the other a m clock near at band struck , aud an In stant later the chorus was taken up by a dozen clamorous tongues. Usually he scarcely heard and never heeded these Innumerable chimes, but this evening their effect was strange. Comlnz out of the darkness, they seemed to possess a personal note, a human declaration. The impression was fan tastic, but it was strong. With a species of revolt against life and his own personality, he turned slowly and moved forward in the direction of Ludgate hill. For a space he continued his course, then, reaching Bouverie street, he turn ed sharply to the right and made his way down the slight incline that leads to the embankment. There he paused and drew a long breath. The sense of space-and darkness soothed him. Fulling his cap over his eyes, he crossed to the river and walked on in the direction of Westminster bridge. As he walked the great mass of water by his side looked dense and smooth as oil with Its sweeping width and network of reflected light. On Its farther bank rose the tall buildings, the chimneys, the flaring lights that suggest another and r.n alien London. Close at hand stretched the solid stone parapet, giving assurance of protection. All these things he saw with his mental eyes, but with his mental eyes only, for his physical gaze was fixed ahead where the houses of parliament loomed out of the dusk. From the great buildings his eyes never wavered until the embankment was traversed and Westminster bridge reached. Then he paused, resting his arms on the coping of the bridge. In the tense quietude of the darkness the place looked vast and inspiring. The shadowy terrace, the silent river, the rows of lighted windows, each was significant. Slowly and comprehensively his glance passed from one to the other. He was no sentimentalist and no dreamer, nis act was simply the act of a man whose interests, robbed of their natural outlet, turn instinctively toward the forms and symbols of the work that Is denied them. Ills scrutiny was steady even cold. He was raised to no exaltation by the vastness of the building, nor was he chilled by any dwarfing of himself. He looked at It long and thoughtfully; then, again moving slowly, he turned and retraced his steps. His mind was full as he walked back, still oblivious of the stone parapet of the embankment, the bare trees and the flaring lights of the advertisements across the water. Turning to the left, he regained Fleet street and made for his own habitation with the quiet accuracy that some men exhibit in moments of absorption. He crossed Clifford's Inn with the same slow, almost listless, step; then, as his own doorway came into view, he stopped. Some one was standing In its recess. For a moment he wondered If his fancy were playing him a trick. Then his reason sprang to certainty with so fierce a leap that for an instant his mind recoiled. For we more often stand aghast at the strength of our own feelings than before the enormity of our neighbor's actions. "Is that you, Chilcote?" be said below his breath. At the sound of his voice the other wheeled round. "Hello!" he said. "I thought you were the ghost of some old inhabitant. I suppose I am very unexceeted?" tTo Ee Continued'

YOU CAN'T BE "GROUCHY" in a well lighted house. A Pore, Brilliant Gas or Electric Light Makes your home more cheerful and gives you that comfortable, contented feeling-. You can't afford to be without it. Telephone for cost of installation to SOUTH SHORE GAS & ELECTRIC GO. 147 South Hohaan. Phona 10.

LOTS

$150 Each and Upwards In the new steel city, Gary, Indiana, 175,000,000 now being expended in building the largest steel plant in the world; by the Unittd States Steel Co. Twenty-five thousand men will be employed which means a city of over 100,000 Inhabitants. Lots will double in value many times. Send for large map and particulars. W. A. PRIDMORE, 134 Monroe St., Chicago. C. WARD, Loil Agent. Office onpcslto depot, Tolleston.

Ciill,imiii.,.L.w,Wi,,.ti am wmmm.ii nuu' ...;..:. w..i...i...i.ii j. n .-..i, , ct, --iiTnriiMi 111 Umiiiii -- -- - 1

We have received on consignment from an Eastern Fur Inspector a large assortment of

Consisting of Ladies' Scarfs, Muffs and Throws, to be sold at One Half Actual Value

Sale will last Ten Days Only, beginning December 22, and these goods can not be had after that time. A line of beautiful belts and novelties. PARIS CORSET SHOP 84 tiast Jackson Boulevard - CHICAGO

iBUSiNESS DIRECTORY! OP LAKE COUNTY 6 "0 J. H. TALLMAN Plumbing-, Steam, Gs Fitting and Sewering has removed shop to 12 9 CAM'MET AVE.VUE Telephone 4234. DR. WILLIAM D. WEIS PHYSI.CIAN AND SURGEON. Duetscher Arzt. Offlce fttid residence 145 Hohm&n ft, PhOP 20 (private wire) dftj and night service. Phone 21S3. DR. W. H. DAVIS DENTIST Koomi 1-3, Blajeattc BIdff. Special Notice Do not confus this ofilco with tho Harvard Dentists, for I am In no way connected with them, never have been. Best Equipped Repair Shop In the StaU G. W. HUNTER AUTOMOBILE GARAGE Cornptessed Air FREE Bowser Gasoline System 01 S. UOH3IAX STREET Phone 122. Huehn Block, Hammond, Ind W. F. MASHINO FIRE INSURANCE. Office in First National Bant Blfle. It yon want every English aeak. Ins person In Lake Connty to read your advertisement put It In Till! LAKE COUNTY TIMES. HAMMOND REALTY CO. Owners of choice lots la McHie's Sub-dlvisloa. j Hanmond, Blig. Hammond, lad. Accuracy, Promptness and Reasonable Rates Guaranteed. MRS. L. A. MINARD, PU3LIC STENOGRAPHER Office, 151 So. IloUman SU, Room S, Telephone 1802. Hammond. lad. ..SEE.. WM. KLEIHEGE FOR PLUMBING 152 SOUTH UOIIMAN STREET. STELEPIIOXE 61.

N QA

RY

Tel. 22C1. Chung Maw, llgr, CHUNG KEE LO. Chinese Chop Suey and Americas Restaurant. CHINESE AND JAPANESE GOODS. 91 State St. Hammond, Ind. Open from 10 a. m. to 1 a. m. f ii n it - :' "' ' - " 1 TRE CITIZENS' GERMAN NATIONAL BANK of Hammond. A comparative ntntemrat of deposits since our opening dayi Slay 12, 1006 S 14,080.01 June 12, 1006 83,812.03 July 12, 1900 03,975.19 Ausuit 11, 1006 12S.978.70 September 12, 1906 147133.72 October 12, 1906 162.1S5.SS November 12, 1906 172,783.84 No County, City or School Punda Included In the above. We are the yoongest bank In Hammond. Onr first birthday will be on May S, 1907. THREE PER CENT. PAID ON SAT INGS AND TIME DEPOSITS. Give us a trial and be convinced of onr fair treatment. Fins Residence and Brick Flat Building a specialty. Estimates short notice. Plans fres. J. H. Kolling. 411 Sohl Street. I CAN SELL Your Real Estate or Business No matter where located. Properties and Business of all kinds sold quickly for cash in all parts of the united States. Don't wait. "Write today describing what you have to sell and gxra cash price on same. If You Want to Buy Any kind of business or real estate anywhere at any price, write me your requirements. I can save you tims and money. DAVID P. TAFF, THE LAND MAN 415 Kansas Ave., Topeka. Kan.

F i s ii 1 Vt I, l V t