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Show ff Dead "T i Beyond : Redemption By EDWARD LEV1NE (. Wwtr Nwipapr Union.) HOW long he had been dead old Miller had no means of judging, because time had no longer any meaning mean-ing for him. Indeed, it was with difficulty dif-ficulty that he brought himself to the realization that he was dead. Bis first thought had been that he wag ill, or even Insane. He, James Miller, the millionaire, whose word had been law and dogma, who had dominated his timid little wife until her death, and tyrannised over his daughter, Emily, and driven her from his home when she married young Fearsull against his wishes he was reduced to sorry straits. He found himself In a condition outside out-side space and time, a place colorless, shapeless, and above all. hideously alone. And that was the terrific part of It, that he, who had had hundreds at his beck and call, should be so utterly alone. He had only one companion. , That was remorse. Remorse, at first hardly recognizable for what It was, then slowly strengthening as the situation situ-ation dawned upon him, as the freed mind began to sift out the wrongs of life, the wrongs that he had committed. commit-ted. And deepest of all was his treatment treat-ment of his daughter, Emily. She had been the one person he had really loved. She was the one person who had really loved him, When she fell In love with young Pearsall it was arrogance ar-rogance that had Impelled him to lay down his ultimatum. She would give the fellow up or lesve his house forever. To his amazement Emily had chosen love, and left him. He had regretted his act bitterly, but had been too proud to forgive or ask forgiveness. He knew where the couple lived. He had seen their little bungalow on the outskirts of the town. Pearsall was doing well In a modest way, but they were poor, and be would never amount to anything. Old Miller had meant to change that will which left everything to charity a poor sort of charity I only he bad died. Dead, beyond redemption, and bis millions lost I That money which should have gone to Emily, In the hands of strangers. How she must hate hiinl This was the remorse that became his companion In that shadowy realm of which he was a denizen, until bis despair became so overmastering that the creative power of the soul came Into play. If only he could have the opportunity to make It up to Emily 1 If only he could see her again and ask her forgiveness! And with the exercise of that creative crea-tive power he seemed to overleap the conditions that bound him. He found himself within the cottage. A shadowy wraith, he crept through the poorly furnished rooms until he found the one In which his daughter was lying. She was lying In bed, her face flushed, the sweat of agony upon her brow. Beside her stood her bus-band. bus-band. He took her hand In his. "How do you feel, darling?" old Miller heard him saying. "Oh, so sick, dear I Stay with mel" The wraith looked down with Infinite In-finite pity and remorse upon his daughter. daugh-ter. Emily HIT He didn't understand. What was the matter with her? But he felt In some strange way drawn to her as he had never been before. He felt that she comprised everything that he needed. He wanted want-ed her as he had never wanted any one before. It was all he could do to keep from slipping back Into that nebulous place from which he had emerged. Only with the most Intense concentration of will power. And yet he was slipping. But not to there. A sense of peace enfolded en-folded him, be felt that in this second sec-ond loss of self he was passing to a greater happiness. Emily and ber husband leaned over the cradle, looking at the child. "He has father's eyes, hasn't be, dearr she said. "Dear father. Tou know, I am sure he always meant to do right by us. Tou see, I understood him. I've often wished that I could tell him so. Look, look I He seems to know me already I" The child stretched up Its tiny hands to her and smiled. |
