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Show MM i Elizabeth's Warning Outside tho landscape was sodden and dreary. A chill rain beat against tbo pane and now and then sharp gusts of wind shook the naked limbs of the trees and sent flying the few withered leaves that still clung to the branches. It seemed to Elizabeth, sitting at the window, that the day was typical of her own life, for the rain of dls-contont dls-contont beat In upon her soul and tho gusty winds of adversity shook her faith In mankind and sent scurrying through the void the dead lenvei of her withered Ideal. Tomorrow she would go back home home to the dingy little farmhouse where she hnd tolled r.nd slaved through all her young life; back to the drudgery of baking, tewing, and the thousand and ono tusks of domestic domes-tic life, yet In her hand she held a letter which offered her nn avenue of escape and assured her a cessation of tho drudgery that had borne In upon her soul ever since she could remember. remem-ber. Until recently she had been content, for she knew no other lot. Then had come an Invitation from her sister to visit at the latter's home through the summer. Margaret, her elder sister, had married for money through the kindly ofllces of a summer boarder who had taken an Interest In the clever girl. Her husband, Mr. Tobtn, was compelled to remain In town this summer that he might be under the care of a famous specialist and, deprived de-prived of her accustomed visit "back' home," Margaret had asked that Elizabeth might come to her. For four months Elizabeth had moved through a dream life In the expensively-furnished home of the To-bins.- f , There were always guests In the evening, for Richard Tobln entertained enter-tained lavishly, though he was forbidden for-bidden the rich foods that ho loved to set before those who enjoyed his hospitality. Dicky Reldlng had called It "eating Tobln's dinner for him." And now she was to leave It all, to go back to the dull routine ot tho farm until. In tho spring, Ouy Rawllngs should claim her as his wife. .Marriage .Mar-riage to Ouy would mean only work In a new home; perhaps even more work, for his farm was small and a heavy mortgage bad been left upon It by his father. Cyrus Hartzell, too, had written her an offer of marriage, and tho letter lay In her lap as she looked out of the window across the park. Hartzell was an Intimate friend ot Tobln's; a dry, withered, money-making machine, whose first wlfo had died so It was said because ot the privations she had endured In Hartzell's early days of money-making, when every penny was put back Into the business to be turned over and over again, multiplying multiply-ing Itself until at last Hamuli was at once a widower and a millionaire. And now he honored Elizabeth by offering hot) his hand and fortune. He wanted someone to preside over his home as gracefully as Margaret played the hostess for his friend. It was a business communication rather than a love letter, but Elizabeth preferred It so. She could not have endured It had he spoken of love. As It was, she rose, at length, and crossed the room to the tiny writing desk. There was no real engagement with Ouy, and In a few short words she expressed ex-pressed her appreciation ot tho honor Hartzell had done her and accepted his offer. She still sat at her 'desk, the letter, sealed nnd stamped, lying bofore her when Margaret entered. Something In the tenseness of her attitude alarmod the younger girl and she sprang to her sister's side. "What Is It, Meg?" she cried, as she threw her arms about her. "What has happened?" Margaret bent and kissed the girl's white lips. "Richard Is dead, thank (iod," she snld simply. "He was seized with nu attack and died before wc could get tho doctor." Elizabeth recoiled at the harshness , of Uio 'tones and softly murmured "Thank Clod?" Margaret turned to her passionately. "Yes, thank Ood!" she cried. "Best you don't know whnt I have gone through with. No one will ever know what I have suffered unless they, too, have sold their lives for comfort and wealth. .For six years I have been tlod to a man I did not love, wco did not love ma, denlod ovun one word of love. Now I have my roward. I uni rich and a widow, but God help me I no longer have n heart. It Is doad within me. killed by my loveless life." Oently Elizabeth led tlm hyst n'.l woman to a sofa and while lae b.uise-hold, b.uise-hold, upset by the occurrence, ju Med about to see thnt needful things were done, Elizaboth sat with her slstor, vainly trying to comfort tho stunned uouian. At last with an effort Margaret ron Bed herself. "I must go and see thnt flowers nre ordered. I must keep up appearnncca to tho bitter end," she said dully "Hess, you will wait until- until afterward, won't you?" "I shall not go until you no lougei need me," promised the girl, as she put her arm protcctlugly about Mar garet. Slowly they moved toward the door, but on the threshold Elizabeth paused and ran toward the desk. In the tiny grata a cheerful tiro burned to offset the dtsagreeablo dampness of the weather, and on the glowing coals she laid the letter to Hartiell. "Guy Is not rich," she whUpored to herself, "except In his love but that Is tlu best o! all." |
