OCR Text |
Show lijU3? she was staying in "I came in with the New Year. Nolj 5T V lWfi'' a boardlnS house an omen of ill-luck, I hope." I replied; I vi.uji i KW'-rtnoRwf' in Bloomsbury in a m"sical voice; "but I firt ant to I ' Yll(jk '93BI' which he was also know if Walter Carson is ' .ot an as-. mA Jf 1 KWlufuifC ' a loiser. Her rea- sumed name?" JliWifll M Jl S0D fr beIng in "Why do you ask such a HKstion?" i 1'V fkSqiWfk fl tSafiilll" J town was that Bhe "For the best of good reasons, and I lil&Sl" 'Sr'til pfeSHii miSnt improve a as you will not tell me, perhaps you 1 ft l lWli Vf ih ifTpr s'ffigjjif somewhat neglect- will allow me to say that I think your , ( mMKvf Nf IjM' J"vI ed education, and real name is Herbert. Wilton," pro- fmr IjfiS M FATHER sn was taking ceeded the mysterious stranger. JlWyMr.k VN'r' l-MTIMF K singing lessons at Carson was utterly unprepared for NSfSlI a school of music this, and his surprise was painfully! flllX VUgSSff: gasSrQUT A J In the neighbor- manifest. Appearing not td notice it, i ''TeiW Xl E W- TREf1 nood the lady went on: lJ'Si;nhi An aunt took "You are unhappy, I kuov, Mr. Wil- AryrTff"- K - . away -thi8 unwant- ton- 1 sha11 nt call you Mr. Carson.. she was staying in a boarding house in Bloomsbury, in which he was also a lodger. Her reason rea-son for being in town was that Bhe might improve a somewhat neglect-led neglect-led education, and sh was taking singing lessons at a school of music in the neighborhood. neighbor-hood. An . aunt took away this unwant- "I came in with the New Year. No1; an omen of ill-luck, I hope," I replied; a musical voice; "but I firfjt yant to know if Walter Carson is .ot an as- sumed name?" "Why do you ask such a nifstion?" "For the best of good reasons, and as you will not tell me, perhiips you will allow me to say that I think your real name is Herbert Wilton," proceeded pro-ceeded the mysterious stranger. Carson was utterly unprepared for this, and his surprise was painfully! manifest. Appearing not td notice it, the lady went on: j "You are unhappy, I kuov-, Mr. Wil- ton. I shall not call you Mr. Carson.. I am certain of it, because I wes watching watch-ing you for ten minutes bei'ore yon opened your eyes. Can I be of any help to you?" "I don't usderstand you, madam," answered Carson. "I have no trouble, at least none that you could assist me in." "Has it any connection with an old love affair?" very slowly asked the veiled visitor. "I must decline to discuss my private pri-vate matters with an utter stranger," replied Carson, jumping up.- "Am I an utter stranger, Herbert?' responded the stranger, also rising, and as she did so throwing back her veil. "Leila!" gasped Carson, looking incredulously into her face. "Yes, Leila," was the answer whis ed daughter from among the large family at home, to be a companion across the Atlantic, and suspecting sus-pecting her of flightiness, opened open-ed her letters in the capar city of guardian. The first of Carson's epistles he was a cautious man and did not commit himself to paper until he could not resist doing so arrived when the aunt believed she was arranging ar-ranging a highly desirable engagement engage-ment for her niece, and on the principle prin-ciple of doing wrong that good may come, she kept back the notes of this obviously poor suitor. Carson often felt desolate, but never so utterly as then, and as he paced the floor the laughter of the happy crowd seemed to mock him. He rang the bell and ordered some tea. The demure little maid looked at him, and, going down stairs, said: "Poor Mr. Carson, he looks so strange and miserable!" Returning, she found him sitting in his chair gazing with half-closed eyes into the fire. Placing the tea on a OLD AND NEW. , I cannot joy with these who hall The new-born year; I rather grieve with those who give - The dead Old Tear , A tender tear. The New what know I of the New? I knew the Old! God's benison upon his corse. On which the mold Lies stiff and cold. , Here In the shadow let me stand And count them o'er, The blessings that he brought to me, A precious store I asked no more. He brought me health a priceless boon To me and mine; He brought me plenty for my needs. And crowned my shrine With love divine. Ah! when I think suffused with tears I feel my eyes 1 Of all the dear delights he brought; Yet stark he lies 'Neath Winter skies. Therefore I cannot hail with joy The new-born year; I rather grieve, with those who give The dead Old year A tender tear. Wkfr small wicker table by his side, she attracted at-tracted his attention by the question, "Anytling else, sir?" "No," was the reply; "but, see, this is New Year's Eve. You've been a good servant to me, at least. Buy yourseli something," handing her a sovereign. The amount of the gift bereft the girl of the power of speech, and with a curtesy, eloquent in itself of gratitude, she left. Carson, sipping his tea, again soliloquized. solilo-quized. "It's now within an hour and a quarter of the New Year. What will that year bring into my life? It cannot bring the light of love and companionship. The same round of weeks and months, and so it will be to the end. Ten years ago, in Old Kentucky, we said 'Good-by.' It was a 'good-by' forever." Apostrophizing the absent woman, bf continvad; "leila, Leila, to grave I take withme the love I bear you. Why did we live to be parted so ruthlessly? What strange fate has so guided our destinies?" He turned to the story of Evangeline and read of the sufferings of that heroic character. The reading soothed him and he fell asleep. The clocks were striking the twelfth "I CAME IN WITH THE NEW YEAR." pered, while her arms stole round his neck, "come back to you with the New Year, never to leave your side until it so pleases God." Then they sat down and she told him how, three years before, after being be-ing left a widow, she determined toi find out what had become of the sweetheart sweet-heart of her younger days. How, by a chapter of happy accidents, she learned t'at ho ia Loadoii. How, on knowing this, she hurried over land and sea, and just at the birth of the New Year entered his room. She saw the tears fall from his eyes, heard her name mentioned, and his blessing go out to her. All doubts were then at an end. ft'SS'"'! A ' ALTER CARSON ! rS33i IS All leane(l back in the s yTxT fV W easy chair, drawn Si if up before nis s't-fXy s't-fXy V "f ting room fire at (j Cfj&y his Duke street chambers in Lon-Srs-f.-to) don. The clock had struck 10, and the sonorous boom from Big Ben came floating over the Green park as a sort of benediction jon the rapidly dying year. The roar 'of the great city without was not lacking lack-ing in its element of Cclo'iy. and the - Snoise of nerry reveleis in Piccadilly ' 'completed a strange yet fascinating Jtout ensemble. Passing down the istreet came three young men singing ithat old Southern song, "I'se gwine ihack to Dixey." The words and the melody startled Carson from the rev-jerie rev-jerie into which he had fallen. Sitting (upright in his chair, he said, aloud: ! "What memories that song recalls! iHow my loneliness grows upon me! (What a fool I was ever to have indulged in-dulged in the thing called love! But (there. I've tasted the poison and must abide by the result. What's that result? re-sult? Pleasing? Why cannot I he of the gay throng outside? Here in this mighty crowded city I am as lonely ias a man lost in a desert." He rose and, igoing to the other side of the room, opened a cabinet and took from it a tmndle of letters, some dozen. They were faded and bore traces of much, handling. After reading, he replaced them, and, walking to the photograph "My children will be here by the next boat, and you must be to them a father. Now I must go, as I'm weary with the excitement of the day." Carson drove her to her hotel, and to him the New Year bells never seemed to have rung such merry peals. They rang into his life a New Year is every sense. A few days later there was a quiet marriage, and on the following fol-lowing New Year's Eve, as Carson and his wife listened to the hour of midnight mid-night strike, they thought, with hearts full of love and gratitude, of the joyous joy-ous meeting twelve months before. of a child on , tne wall. Indulged in soliloquy. "I know you not, my sweet child, ut your mother was always, and always al-ways must be everything to me. How hard and cruel seems the world! Your pother and I parted ten long years ago this night, to meet again in two pears time! What happened to present pre-sent us? I wrote many times, but no reply ever reached me. Three years after we separated a letter came from fier, and in it I read: 'Now that I am married, perhaps you will write.' Life seemed a blank, and I came to London, Lon-don, a wayfarer, caring not what became be-came of me. I turned to literature, and have been what people call successful. suc-cessful. But what is success without the power to experience that which makes it other than a metallic gratification? grati-fication? Eighteen months went by before I next heard from your mother, and then your photo only reached me, Elnce when all has been silence! Your mother married a good man, and I pray for her and for you, too, baby, that you may grow up in her footsteps! foot-steps! " The circumstances under which his letters to the girl went astray were to him mysterious, but, as a matter of fact, easily explained. The girl was the daughter of a country lawyer, and ie had made her acquaintance when "I KNOW YOU NOT, SWEET CHILD." stroke of midnight when he awoke. He barely opened his eyes,, then closed them again, and listened to the joyous salutations of people meeting in the streets. He was not selfish, neither was he bStf natured. No man who every truly loved can be altogether either. As he listened he said: "I wish for all a bright New Year, and Leila, my absent Leila, whom 1 shall never see again, may your life know no sorrow, may yours never be the aching heart, and may you be blessed in your children growing up around you. My Leila " He did not finish the sentence, but the tears came trickling down his cheeks as he realized his barren life. Then he became conscious that some one had come into the room and been a witness of his weakness and his secret se-cret secret because society said Walter Wal-ter Carson carried his heart on his sleeve and was incapable of deep affection. affec-tion. So sitting up and turning round he was startled to see seated on a chair a tall lady, clad in deep mourning mourn-ing and veiled so heavily that he was unable to distinguish her face. "Madam," he inquired, too taken aback even to get up, "I should like to know why I am thus honored?" |