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Show memory for me, to know that I tsd been able to give you'sncb an iiel. Some of these davs, you see, I am hoping hop-ing that we shall aeain have a poet with conviction and a voice, so that" men may know tha$ aympathv and- love are things as real as money. 1 am quite sure there never was nation so ridicu- , lously sodden as our own Just at present; pres-ent; all of our maxima and ways ef life are as if we were the queer little Nibe-lung Nibe-lung creatures that dig for treasure in the oowels pf the earth, and see bo farther far-ther than he ends of their shovels: we live in the City of God, and spend all our time scraping: the cold of the pavements. pave-ments. Your uncle told me this morning morn-ing that he did sot . see why a boy should, go to college when he can get a higher salary if he spends the' four years in business. :I find that there is nothing to do but to run away and live alone, if one wants really to believe that man is a spiritual nature, with aa infinite possibility of wonder and love", and that the one business of his life is to develop that nature by contact with things about him, and that every act of narrow selfishness he commits is a veil which he ties about his own eyes, and that when he has tied enough of them, not all the pearl and gold of. the gorgeous gorge-ous East can make him less a pitiable wretch.' Mr. Howard stopped -. again, and smiled slightly; Helen sat gazing thoughtfully ahead, thinking about his way of looking at life, and. how very strange her own actions seemed in the light of it. Suddenly, however, because throughout all the conversation, she glanced ahead and urged the horse even faster. She saw far in the distance the houses of the place to which she was bound, and she said nothing more, her companion also becoming silent as he perceived her agitation. Helen had been constantly growing . BinrA &nx4mia ka that now tha rarriflora "I was astounded when I cot this note." . " "But some one must know, ch, surely they must! Some one must have seen him or he must have told some one!" "I think it likely that he took care not to," was the reply. Tha thought waa a daih-knell to Helen's Utt hop. an4 aha UDk down. suita overcome: over-come: ah knew that Arthur coold hav had but ono notlvo in series at ha had that ha meant t cut hiaualf off entirely from all his old life and earrouadlnct. He had no frieada In HiUtowj, and baring lived aU alofce, it would be poteible for aim to do it. Helen remembered Mr. Howard's saying say-ing of the nirht before, how the licht of her baaeneta misfit wreck a man a 11 f forever, ad the more aha thought of that, the mora it made her tremble. It teemed almott more thaa aha could bear to tee this fearful fear-ful eonaequeneo of her tin. and to know that it had become feet of the outer world, and gone beyond her power. It teemed Suits too cruel that the thould hero auch a ling 'on her eontcienca. and hav it' there forever; mott maddening of 'all wet that thought that it had depended upon a few hour ef time. - "Oh. how could I he waited I" the moaned. "I thould have come laat night, I thould have stopped the earriaft when I 14 him Oh. it it not poaaibUI". "Perhapa there ,are ao mora tragi words is human epeoeh than "Too Ieta." Helen felt jutt then at if the right even' to repentance re-pentance were taken from her life. -It waa ner firtt- introduction to- that fearful thing of which Mr. Howard hid told her upon their nrtt .meeting: in the deep . lonelineaa of her own heart Helen u face to face juat then with Fate. 6be abrank back in terror, and the atruggled. frantically, but the felt itt grip of ateel about her wriatt; and while ane sat there with her face hidden, the waa learning to gate into ite.eyea. and front their fiery terror. When aha looked up again her face-was very white and pitiful piti-ful to see, and the rote from her chair and went toward the door to- unsteadily that the woman-put- her arm about-her.- - Won will tell me," aha gatp4 faintly "you will tell me if you hear anythias t' "Yet," asid the other gently. "I will. So Heen ' crept into the carriage again, looking eo full of wTetcbedneaa that her eomnanion knew the wortt muat have hap pened, and took the reina aad eileoUy drove toward home, while joe girl aat perfectly till. They -were fully f alf wayjwme before the could find a word in which to Sell him of her mitery. "I thall never he happy in my life again!" the whitpered. "Oh, Mr. .Howtrd, never in my life!" When the-man gated at her, he wat frightened to tee how grief and fear had taken poetetaion of her lace; and yet there waa ao word that bo could aay to aoothe her, and no hop that he could give her. When the drive wat ended, the ttole tilently up .to her room, to be alone with her mitery one more. . - . - - , could not travel fast enough; it seemed to her that everything depended upon what she might 'find at Hilltown. It was only the thought of Arthur that kept her from feeling completely 'free from her wretchedness; she felt that she might remedy all the wrong that she had done, and win once more the prize of a good conscience. provided only that nothing irretrievable had happened hap-pened to him. Kowas she came nearer she found herself imagining more and j more what might, have happened, and becoming more and more impatient. I There was a balance dangling before her eyes, with utter happiness on one side and utter misery on the other; the issue depended upon what she discovered discov-ered at Hilltown. The two sat in silence, both thinking of the same thing, as they whirled past the place whero Helen had seen Arthur before. The girl trembled aa she glanced at it, for all the previous day's suffering suffer-ing rose before her again, and made her fears still more real and importunate. She forced herself to look, however, half thinking that she might see Arthur Ar-thur again; out that did not happen, and in a minute or two more the carriagehad car-riagehad come to the house where be lived. 8he gave the reins to Mr. Howard, How-ard, and sprang quickly out; she rang the bell, and then stood for a minute, twitching her fingers, and waiting. The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen knew personally, opened the door; the visitor stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, "Where is Ar-thurf" Ar-thurf" Her hands shook visibly as she waited for the reply. ' He is not in, Miss Davis, ' '. the woman wo-man answered. "Where is hat" Helen cried. "I do not know," was the response., "He has gone::" ' "Gone!?'. And the girl started back, catching at her heart. "Gone where!" "I do not know. Miss Davis." "But what" began the other. "This will tell you all I know," said the woman, as she fumbled in her apron, and put a scrap of crumpled paper pa-per into Helen's trembling hands. The girl seized it and glanced at it; then she staggered back against the wall, ghastly pale and almost sinking. The note, in Arthur's band, but so unsteady un-steady as to be almost illegible, ran thus: "You will find 'in this my board for the past week; I am compelled to leave Hilltown, and I shall not ever return. ' ' And that was all. Helen stared at it and stared again, and then let it fall and gazed about her, echoing, in a hollow hol-low voice. "And I shall not ever re-turnf" re-turnf" "That is all I can tell you about it," went on the woman. "I have not seen him since Elizabeth was here vesterday morning; he came back late fast night and packed his bag and went away." Helen sank down upon a chair and buried her face in her hands, quite overwhelmed over-whelmed by the suddenness or that discovery. dis-covery. She remained thus for a long time, without either time oiT . motion, mo-tion, and the woman stood watching her, knowing full well what was the matter. When Helen looked up again there was agony written upon her countenance. coun-tenance. '"Oh, are you sure you have no idea where I can find himf" she moaned. "No, Miss Davis." said the woman. CHAPTER XI. " "Thou majeetie In thy sadness." Upon the pretent occaaion there waa no violent demon tret ion of emotion to alarm the Roberts houeebold. for Helen's grief waa not the kind to vent ttaelf in a patt.on-ate patt.on-ate eutbvat and ptit away. To be ture. the wept little, but the thenghu which haunted her were not of a kind to he forgotten, for-gotten, and afterward the wat as wretched aa ever. What ahe had done seemed to her ao dreadful that even tears were not right, and -the felt that ahe ought only to ait stilt and ' think of it and be frightened. It teemed to her iuit then it if the would htve to do the tame thing for the rett of her dayt. She tpent teveral hourt in her room without one moving and without being dit-turbed, dit-turbed, for her aunt wat tuffieiently annoyed an-noyed at her morning's reception not to riait her again. .The lunch hour patted, therefore, there-fore, 'untbought of by Helen, and it Wat an hour- or two later before the heard her aunt's step ia the hall and her knock upon the door. Mrs. Roberts entered and stood In the center of the room.. gating at Helen. and at the look of belpleet detpair which the turned towtrd her. The woman's own lips were tet very tightly. "Well." the taid. abruptly, "have you had your with, and are you happy I" Helen did not antwer. nor did the half realise the quettioa. ao loet wat the in her own mitery. She aat gazing at her aunt, while the latter wept on: ' You have had your way in one thing, at any rat.. Helen. Mr. Harriton i donitalri to aee you.:' The girl gave a slight ttsrt hut than the antwered quietly: "Thank you, auntie. I tbtll go down and tee him." "Helen." . aaid Mr t. Roberta, "do you still refute to tell me anything of what I atk you?" Helen wta quit too muob humbled to with to oppote anyone jutt then, and the antwered mournfully: "What ia it you with I" "I with to know in the flrat place why you wanted to eee Mr. Harriton." "I wanted to tee him to tell him that I could not marry him. Aunt Polly." And Mra. Roberta aat down oppotite Helen and fixed her gate upon her. "I knew that waa it." the aaid grimly. "Now. Helen, what in the world hat come 'over you to mike you behave in thia fathiont" ' Oh. it it to much to tell you."' began the girl: "I doa't know" "what did yon fit 4 at Hilltown t" went on her aunt pertittently. "Did you tee Arthur t" "No. Aont Pollr. thtt it whtt it the mtt-ter. mtt-ter. He hat gone." "Gone I Gone where I" "Away. Aunt Polly 1 Kobody taw him go, and' he left a note tayiog that he would never return. And I am ao frightened" Mrt. Roberti wat gtiing at her niece with a puttied . look upon her face. She interrupted inter-rupted her by echoing the word "frightened" "fright-ened" inquiringly. "Tet, auntie. cried the girl: "for I may never be able to find bim again to undo what I have done!" And Mrt. Robertt responded with a wondering won-dering laugh, and obeerved: "For my part, I thould think you'd be very glad to be rid of him to." (To Be Continued.) "Yes," answered the other, with a slight smile. "It would be a happy "mm MbM ' - L, . , - : . . . 1 i ; CHAPTER X. i (Continued.) It ia very strange," the girl responded, re-sponded, wonderingly, "how differently ou think about it. I should have supposed sup-posed I' was acting very unwisely in-jeed in-jeed if I loved Arthur. Every one Would have told me of his poverty and obscurity, and of how I must give up tay social career." . "I think differently perhaps," Mr. ' Howard said, ' ' because I have lived so .touch alone. I have come to know , hat happiness is a thing of one's own leart, and not of externals; the questions ques-tions I should ask about a marriage iroujd not be of wealth and position. If Iou really wish to seek the precious hintrs ox the soul, I should think you froufo be very glad to prove it by some ucrifice; and f know that two hearts Ire brought closer, and all the memo-lies memo-lies of life made dearer, bv some such b-ial in the early days. People sneer It love in a cottage, but I am sure that ve that could wish to live anywhere Use is not love. And as to the social lareer, a person who has. once come to tnow the like of the heart soon ceases - jo care for any kind of life that is ieartless: a ial-erer ia -oertainly Sat, and in comparison very vulgar deed." , - Helen' looked a .little. puizled,' and repeated the word "vulgar" inquir-ogly. inquir-ogly. Mr. Howard smiled. 'That is the word I alwavs use when am talkinirabout high life," he aaid " kughing. ''You may hurt the words - Selfish r and ' worldly' at it all you . )lease. and never reach , a vital epet; lut the world.,1 vulgar ' goes straight Jo the heart." . ' . - "You must explain "Id" me why it is hat," said Helen, with so much'seri Jusness that- tha-other- eould sot help ' . oniling again. "Perhaps I 'cannot make any one ilse aee the -thing as I do,'!, was his tjply. "And vet it seems very simple. A hen a man lives a -while in his own i . soul, he becomes awareof the existence I of a certain spiritual "fact which gives life all its dignity and meaning; he learns that this sacred thing demands to be sought for, and worshipped; and that the man who honors it and seeks it is to be hailed as gentleman and aristocrat, aris-tocrat, and that he who does not honor it and seek it is vulgar, though he be heir to a hundred Earls, and leader -of all society, and lord - of millions. Everyday that one lives in this presence pres-ence that I speak of, he discovers a little lit-tle more how sacred a thing is true nobility, and how impertinent is the standard that values men for the wealth they win, or for the ribbons they wear, or for anything else in the world. I fancy that you, if you came once to love your friend, would find it very easy to do without the admiration of those who go to make up society. They would come to seem to you very trivial and empty people, and afterward, perhaps, even very crjaej and base.'' Mr. Howard stopped; but then seeing that Helen was gazing at him inquiringly inquir-ingly - once more he added, gravely. "One eould be well content to let vain people strut their little hour and be as wonderful as thev chose if it were not for the painful fact that they are eating the bread of honest men, and that millions are.' toiling and starving in order that they may have ease and luxury. That is such a very dreadful thing to know that sometimes one can think of nothing else, and it drives him quite mad. " The girl sat very still after that, trembling a little in her heart; finally she asked, her voice shaking slightly, "Mr. Howard, what can one do about such things!" "Very little, ".was the reply, "for they must always be; but at least one' can keep his own life earnest and true. A woman wh6 felt such things very keenly might - be an inspiration to a man who was called upon to battle with selfishness aad -vil.'; . . . : "You are thinking of Arthur loace morcJ" asked the girl. |