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Show . . , . . . i . 1 . . , i AUTHOR OF "THE JUNGLE" it will bring him joy enough to compensate him for what he has suffered." ' "That was what I meant to, do," the girl went on. "But I have been terrified by all aorta of fancies, and when I remember how much patn I caused bim, I scarcely dare think of speaking to bim. When I saw him by the roadside, Mr. Howard, he seemed to me to look exactly like you, there was such dreadful suffering written in his face." "A man who lives as yon hare told ma your friend has lived," said the other, "has usually a very great power of suffering; such a man builds for himself an ideal which gives him all his joy and his power, and makes- his life a very glorious thing; but when anything happens to destroy his vision or to keep him from seeking it, be suffers with the same intensity that he rejoiced before.) be-fore.) The great hunger that waa once the source of bis power only tears him to pieces then, aa ateam wrecks a broken engine." "It's very -dreadful," Helen aaid, "how thoughtless I was all along. I only knew that he loved me very much, and. that it was a vexation to me." Mr. Howard glanced at her. "You do not love him 1" he asked. "No," aaid Helen quickly. "If I had loved him I could never have had a thought of all these other things. But I had no wish to love anybody; it was more of selfishness.' "Perhaps not." the o tberreplied, gently. "Some day you may come to love bim, Miaa Davie." "I do not know," Helen said. "Arthur was very impatient." ,"When a man is swift and eager' In all his life," said Mr. Howard, smiling, "he cannot well be otherwise in his love. Such devotion ought to be very precious to a woman, for such hearts are not easy to find in the world." Helen had turned and was gazing anxiouly at Mr. Howard as he spoke to her thus. "You really think," she said, "that I should learn to appreciate Arthur's lovef" "I cannot know much about him from the little you hare told me," was the other's answer. "But it seems to me that it is there you might find the best chance to become the unselfish woman that you wish to be." (To Be Continued.) CHAPTER X. j . - (Continued.) ' ' .- . ' "Very much, indeed,' said he, qinet-. qinet-. ly, after which Helen said, not a word more. ' She saw that her aunt and unele were gazing at her and at each other la ailent wonder, but she paid no attention atten-tion to jit. . After eating a few jmrried mouthfuls she excuse'd herself, and rose and went outside, where she saw' the driving-cart, which had been bought for ; her use, waiting for her. It was not much longer befoTe Mr. Howard was ready, for he saw her agitation. "It is rather' a strange hour to start upon a drive," she said to him, "but I have real cause for hurrying: I will x-plain x-plain about it.'.' And then she stopped, as her aunt came out to join them. It was only a moment mora before Mr. Howard had excused himself, and the two were in the wagon, Helen taking ta-king the reins. She waved a farewell to her aunt and then started the horse, and they were whirled swif tly away t down the road. All the morning Helen 's mind had been filled with things that she wished to say to Mr. Howard. But now all her resolution seemed to have left her, and : she was trembling very much, -and staring star-ing straight ahead, busying herself with guiding the horse. When i&ey were out upon the main road where they might go as fast- as they pleased without that necessity, she swallowed the lump in her throat and made one or two nervous . attempts to speak. ' Mr. Howard in the meantime had been gazing in front of him thoughtfully. thought-fully. "Miss Davis, "'he said suddenly, turning his eyes upon her, "may I ask you a question?" "Yes," said Helen faintly. 0 "You heard all that I said about you last night t" And Helen turned very red and looked away. "Yes, I beard it all," the said; and then there was a long Bllence. . It was broken by the man, who began be-gan in a low voice: "I scarcely know SV Miss - Davis, I can apologize to il then' he stopped short, for the girJUaad turned her glance upon him,. wojjtieringly. "Apologize!" 6he said; she had never once thought of that view of it, and the word took her by surprise. sur-prise. "Yes," said Mr. Howard; "I said po many hard and cruel things that I cannot bear to think of them." Helen still kept her eyes fixed upon hif, as she said, "Did yon 6ay anything that was not true, Mr. Howard!" The" man hesitated a" moment, and then he answered: "I said many things that I had no right to say to you.", "That is not it," said Helen simply. "Did you say anythirrg that was not true?' Again Mr. Howard paused: "I am qnite sure that I did,' he aid at last. "Most of what I said I feel to hava . :'.. - Copyright been untrue since I have seen how it affected you." , ' 3t, "Because it made me so ashamed f" said Helen. And then some of the thoughts that possessed her forced their way chit, and she hurried on impetnous-lyt impetnous-lyt "That was the first thing I wanted to tell you. It is heally true that you were wrong, for I am not hard-hearted at all. It was something that my that people were making me do, and all the time I was wretched. It was dreadful, I know, but I was tempted, because I do love beautiful-things. And it was all so sudden, and I could not realize it, and I had nobody to advise me, for none of the people I meet would think it was wrong. - You must talk to me" and help me, because I've got to be very strong; my aunt will be angry, and when I get, back perhaps Mr. Harrison will be there, and I shall have to tell him. ' ' Then the girl stopped, out of breath and trembling with excitement ; Mr. Howard turned abruptly and fixed his dark eyes upon her. "Tell him," he said. "Tell him whatt" ' "That I shall nof marry him, of course," answered Helen. The other gave a start, but she was -so eager that she did not even notice it. "I could not lose a minute," she said.-" "For it was so very dreadful, you know."' "And you really mean not to marry himt" asked the other.- "Mean itf " echoed the girl, opening her eyes very wide. "Why, how in the world could you suppose " And then she stopped short, and laughed nervously. nervous-ly. "Of course," she said. "I forgot; yon might suppose anything. But, oh, if I could tell you how I have suffered, Mr. Howard, you would understand that I could never 'have such a thought again in the world. Please do understand me. for if I had really been so. base' I should not come to you as I do after what I heard. I cannot tell you bow dreadfully I suffered while I was listening, listen-ing, but after I had cried so much about it, I felt better, and it seemed to me that it was the best thin" that could have happened to me, just to see my actions as they seemed to some one else to some one who was good. I 6aw all at once the truth "of what I was doing, and it was agony to me to know .that you thought so of me. That was why I could not rest last night until I had told you that I was really unhappv; for it was something that I was unhappy, unhap-py, wasn't it, Mr. Howard?" "Yes,'? said the other, "it was very much indeed." "And oh, I want vou to know the truth," Helen went on swiftly. "Perhaps "Per-haps it is just egotism on my part, and I have really no riht to tell you all about myself in this way; and perhaps you will scorn me when you come to know the whole truth. But I cannot help telling you about it. so that yon may advise me what to do: I was all helpless and lost, and what you said came last night like a wonderful light. And I don't care what you think about me if j-ou will only tell me the real UUIU. Ill .U0b luo Dduic " a uai J uu did; for I realized afterwards that it was that which had helped me so. It was the first time in my life that it had ever harinened to me; when you meet people in the world, they only fray things that they know will please you. and that does you no good. I never realized before now a person might go through the world and really never meet with another heart in all bis life; and that one can be fearfully lonely, even in a parlor full of people." Did vou ever think of that, Mr. Howard I" Mr.. Howard had fixed his keen eyes upon the girl as she went breathlessly on; ebe was very pale, and the sorrow through which she had passed had left quite a new beautv upon her face. "Yes," he saidj-"! have thought of that," "It is foolish "for me to ask ?ou, ". Helen continued., "but I have just discovered it for myself, and it seems very wrong. I wanted to ask you if you would not always speak the truth to me, just as you did last night; if I could not bear it, it would be because I was still wrong. I got very much excited as I thought of that, becauie I recollected what you aaid about wishing to help me if I would onlv appreciate it. I wanted to tell you that 1 would, or try to. I think you were wrong in not telling me before, because these people who live so very selfishly must do it just because they never realize "it. I really want you to advise me. and tell me how I can set my life right: I cannot help feeling that I might some day become the kind of woman that I ought to be. to deserve de-serve the beaufv that God has given me. And when I told you that I needod strength. I meant reslly for that, and not because I feared I might go on in my great wrong: for it really makes me suffer dreadfully, even to think of that that marriage." Helen stopped, and there was a minute straight ahead of her, her lips trembling. "Mr. Howard." she said, "you can jot imagine how hard it is for me, after I hva suffered so to know what you think of me, ' to have to tell you more things yet. But, oh. I have done them, and I cannot ever be aet right until I have told you: you will think I have been ao cold and wicked, that you will scorn me altogether." "I do not think that is possible. said ber companion, gently, as ha saw the girl choking back a sob. "Well, listen, then." Helen began; bijt then she 6topped again. "Do yon wish ma to tell yout'f she asked. "Do you care anything about it at all, or doesn't it seem ' ' t "I care very much about it, indeed,' the ! other answered. ! "However dreadful it may seem, said Helen. "Oh, please know that while I have : been doing it. it has made me utterly , wretched, and that I am ao frightened now that I can acsreely talk to you: and that if ': there is anything that I can do oh, abso-' abso-' lutely anything I will do it!" Then the : girl bit ber lips together and went on with desperate haste,-"It's what you said about ' what would happen if there were some on else to love me, and to see how very bad I , was!" "There is some such person?' asked the man. in a low voice, i "Yes," said she. "It is some one I have , known as long as I can remember. And he : loves me very much indeed, I think; and j while I was letting myself be tempted in j this way he was very sick, and because I j knew I 'was so bad I did nt dare :ear j him; and yesterday when he heard I waa j going to marry this mau it a.m ,st killed him, and I do not know what to fear now." Then, punishing herself very brsvely and 1 swallowing all her bitter shame, Helen went ! on to tell Mr. Howard of Arthur, and her friendship with him, and of how long he had waited for her: she narrated In a few words how he had left her, and then how she had seen him npon the road. Afterward slin stopped and sat very still, trembling and with her eyes lowered, quite forgetting that she was driving. "Miss Davis," said the other, gently, seeing how she was suffering, "if you -wish : my advice about thia, I should not worry myself too much: it is better. I find in my own soul's life, to save moat of - the time that one spends upon remorse, and devote de-vote it to action." "To action!" asked Helen. "Yes," aaid tha other. "You have been verv thoughtless, but you may hope that nothing irrevocable has happened; and when you have seen your friend and told him tha truth jusi aa jou have told It to me, I fancy " "7 ; ; ' -:: " - . |