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SYN0P8I8.
CIIAPTElt I. nic.iar.l DcrrlnB, return
ing from a winter In the woods to his
mother's (arm home. Is overtaken by Ills
uncle, accompanied by his eccontrlo wife,
coming to 'pay a visit Qt tho farm.
CHAPTEH II. A int Jorimha's ques
tions about Kmlly Pulton, supposed to be
Hlchanl's sweetheart, bring out tho fact
that b)io Is to marry a morchant, Ed
wards. CIIAl'Tnn III.-DorrlnK's disappoint
ment stimulates hl ntnbltlon and un
der tho mlvlco of Beth Kinney, a hermit
of tho woods, ho resolves to lit himself
for collpne. Kinney promises to teach
him Greek.
CHAPTER IV.-Dorrlnff tells his moth
er his resolve, nnd In his grandfather's
old laboratory boplns tho study of Greek.
CHAPTER V.-80U1 Klnnoy hears Rich
ard's Greek recitation In tho woods while
he and Tom Bishop ply tho cross-cut
aw.
CHAPTER VI. Dorrlng learns that he
can look Indifferently upon tho loss of
Emily. He visits Aunt Jerusha, who vol
unteers to help him through college, mak
ing him a gift of $100.
CHAPTER VII.-Tho Greek learned in
tho woods carries Richard triumphantly
through entrance examinations, wins np
provnl from tho professor nnd Insures his
popularity among his fellows.
CHAPTER VIII. Kour years In college
obliterates the memory of Emily. Der
rlng begins his Jourr.ullottc work In Chi
cago. CHAPTER IX.-Dorrlng meets Helen
Gordon In her studio, where ho goes to
fill an assignment.
CHAPTER X. Dorrlng's promotion to
art critic on his paper makes him more
securo financially. Ho makes rapid prog
ress In comradeship with Helen. Tho dis
covery of an old lova episode In her life
eveals to him that ho loves her.
CHAPTER XI. Holon refuses to marry
Richard nnd hamper his career and her
own. They enter Into n compact which
permits only romi'inlnnshlp with "no
promises" on cither side.
CHAPTER JCII.-lloth find lmpplness in
the undefined relation, HelMi rinds Rich
nrd's suggestions very helpful In her
work.
CHAPTER XIH.-Helrn suffers 111 of
fects from sketching on thn lako shore
In January. A slight Illness brings her
Into closer relations with Richard.
CHAPTER XIV.-Rlchard discovers a
sixth sense which wurns him of any dan
ger or discomfort to Helen. Ho Is called
liome by the Illness of 8cth Kinney and
determines to test the strength of this
peculiar power of communication,
CHAPTER XV.-Seth KJnney is dying,
nnd R'chard resolves to remain to the
end. Beth hears the story of Richard's
western experience and reveals the story
of his own wasted life
CHAPTER XVI.-Dylng In the spring.
Seth leaves Dcrrlng 11 small fortune,
whleli enables him to placo his mother In
comfortable circumstances, Ho returns
to Chicago. Helen starts on u. visit to
her home In the east and Is killed In a
railway accident. She lenves a message
for .Richard, saying: "I hIiiiII come back
vaii U I aaju VLui. J not "
CHAPTER XVII.
Derrlng threw hlrasolf Intd work
with tho Intensity or despair. He
worked early and late. Ho dared not
give himself time to think. Deaut?
had gone from tho world interest
from life. Work was the only thing
ieft. He plodded on In a dull, mo
notonous fashion. It served to kill
tlmo, nnd there was the chance of los
ing himself, for a little while, In his
task.
He would work for days with fever
ish eagerness, for the sako of these
few minutes or working oblivion, In
which ho could lose himself, until tho
dull pain that always preceded his re
turn to consciousness became too
strong to be Ignored. When he turnod
to question Its meaning, memory stood
always at hand to place the burden
once more on his shoulders.
Except for these brief minutes
there was uot an hour In the day
when his loss did not press upon him.
To his tortured imagination he wus
like a man torn In two, one-half to
bo burled out or sight, the other to
live on,, suffering and enduring, till
the jagged wound should heal. At
every turn his thoughts went out to
.her only to bo met by the hopeless
blank of her death. For months the
thought of her had been tho last In
his mind at night, tho llrst to greet
hlra on waking. Now he sat up un
til worn out with work and loss of
sleep. And if then sleep would not
come, he counted sheep jumping over
a wall, watched water falling from a
high precipice down down or
reached out his hand for tho opiate
that stood always at hand. Anything
was better than tho hopelessness of
memory.
Perhaps the hnrdcBt part was tho
uttter loneliness or It all. Ho had
turned to Helen with every pleasure
or sorrow. Now ho was called upon
to face the greatest sorrow or his life
alone absolutely alone. He seemed
to have lost tho sense or human kin
ship. Sometimes n sudden sight would
touch his heart two lovers walking
together. He would follow thorn as
long as he dared, noting overy glnnoe
nnd gesture botwoen thorn. It com
fortod him to feel that lovo was still
in the world although it had gone
from bis own Hfo.
Except for this slight link ho was
cut off from his fellow-bolngs adrift
on a shoreless sea. He did not feel
that others Buffered as ho was suffer
Inc. that many a irallant shio that
passed with colors Hying wns frelgnt
od with n burden ns henvy ns his own.
Ho clung with pathetic eagerness to n
belief that others wero happy nnd
found llfo worth living. For, us time
wont on, ho found tho question of tho
worth of llfo forcing Itself upon him
with cruel insistence not as n specu
lation, but out or tho bitterness of
life. It mot him nt evory turn. It
stood waiting at his bedside to greet
him when ho woko and It followed
close nt Ills Bldo through tho day.
Why should ho take up tho burden or
another day? No one depended on
him would mourn for him. His
molhor? She was now lndonondent
or his help. Sho lid not need him.
No one needed him. One plunge nnd
ho would know whether death ends
nil, or whether In n now llfo one may
meet or make new happiness.
Gladly would ho have died. In hopc
lesH, desperate fashion ho prayed for
death. Dut something Intangible
still held him rrom taking his own
life. He did not porcolvo that there
wero depths or misery lower than nny
to which ho had yet fallen. Had ho
roresoen tho trackless country over
which he wns to wander, he would
havo laid down his lifo In despair at
the outset. But tho sight wn8 merci
fully withheld from him, and ho
pressed steadily on, unloved and un
loving, but hugging close to his henrt
ono delusive belief lovo wns still la
tho world. Not for him, but for
others, llfo was still worth tho living.
How or when this belief escaped
him ho novor know. Ho nwoke ono
day to tho awful conviction that oven
this had been taken from him that
nothing remnlncd between him nnd
absolute despair. Ho had been a fool.
How could any lovo even as pure as
theirs how could ovon this mako llfo
worth living? It was at best a frail,
uncertain thing, llnblo to snap at any
moment and leave life empty, deso
late llko his own. No, life was a
mlBtako. Derrlng could Taney It tho
gift or some arch-fiend who lay back,
laughing in his Bleeve, as rrom afar he
watched men rushing here nnd there,
pushing nnd scrambling, cheating,
swearing, dying ror what? For a
will-o'-the-wisp, a mirage, a child's
rable.
Thus despair took hold on him. But
the effect wns not what ono would
havo foresoon. It drove him towards
Ills fellow-men. In his llrst grief he
had been moody and reserved, Bpeak
Ing seldom and then only of the most
matter-or-ract details or work. Now
he sought companionship. He courted
conversation. But his conversation
was sharp and cynical In tone. No
subject was too sacred or too tender
ror his wit It was aB ir tho fiend
had taken 'him far above and had
showed him that all Is vanity and
vexation or spirit trnnslont, fleeting,
beginning nowhero and ending In
nothtng too trifling to mourn over
and surely not worth enthusiasm.
Every one In the office felt the
change. Many a young fellow who
cane under the lash of his tongue
wondered vnguely what had come
over Derrlng. But no one guessed the
Sometimes a Sudden Sight Would
Touch His Heart Two Lovers
Walking Together,
cause. For although ho seemed so
open und bluff, ho was moro reserved
than ever.
Thus two, three six years passed.
Thon a change came over him. The
bitterness passed from his heart and
left only a groat pity for mankind.
It was n cruel thing to create a race
capable or suffering and condomn it
to a llfo of fruitless striving! The
hopolessnoss and tho misery Minunted
him day and night. Ho becamo very
gontle Even towards sin and vlco lie
showed a louioncy that surprised his
fellow-workers. Ills own grlof had be
come to him a very email thing hard
ly worth a heart-throb In comparison
w'lth the ours under which tho hu
man race struggled. He would gladly
have died to bring n ray or ngnt u
men. He began to understand, dimly,
that tho sins of the world may l laid
on one man. But with tho under
standing came n conviction of tho
hnpelMflhess. ICvery true man must
suffer, must stoop to take tho burden
on his shoulders some to boar It
ovon to a cruel death but nover
must one dnro hopo that bocauso ho
suffered nnothor should bo freo.
For himself, ns tho years went by,
ho Questioned no more. Lire and its
moaning had reduced Itself to this
to holp those that nrc In trouble this
much ho hnd gathered from tho
wreck. Ho know that It wns only n
fragment, a negative Bort of comfort
But It was bolter than the blank
npnthy or Indlfforoncc. It was some
thing to live for.
But lmpplness living, thrilling hap
piness wns for him n thing of tho
past. That It could over como to him
again ho did not for n momont drenm.
Llfo was upon him. Ho mtiBt endure
it as bravely, as helpfully ns he
might. But novor might ho hopo for n
Joy that should mnko it perfect, or
for a reason that should justify tho
suffering.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Tho day had been unusually warm
In the office, but otherwise no differ
ent from other days.
When Derrlng came homo at night
ho throw himself on the bed to rest
before dressing for dinner. It had
becomo a common thing for hlra to
stop -to rest now nnd then during the
day how common, even ho himself
did not realize. Ho was less Intro
spective than formerly. Ho worked
Instead of speculating or dreaming.
When he found himself too tired to
work ho rested for a little, as ho
was doing now.
It had taken him long to learn the
art of resting. But he had at laBt
gained tho power to turn aside at any
moment from tho rush or lire nnd
yield himself, body and mind, to a
quiet rcBtfulness.
As ho lay In tho half-darkened room,
his eyes closed, his breath comlnir
and going lightly between parted lips,
It was easy to seo that tho past ten
years had not all been as peaceful as
this. Tho thick hair, pushed careless
ly back, was Btreaked with grny. Tho
exuberant vitality of tho face and
frame had given place to n worn look
of passive strength. Ten years should
not so chnngo a faco were It not tjiat
ten years, as men count tlmo, nro
sometlmoB a cycle.
Derrlng was not thinking of the
past, however, nor of himself. Ho
was resting, gaining strength for the
next work that lay before him.
At last ho roso and began to move
about the room, ranking ready for din
ner. Suddenly ho Btopped, bewildered,
putting his hand to IiIb head. What
had happened? A change too subtle
to bo put In words had come over him
while he rested. Ho looked at his
face In tho mirror, half expecting to
seo some sign. It was not there. But
deep in his heart he felt It throbbing
thrilling. Llfo was, after all, worth
living! Nay, more, It was a wonder
ful, beautiful thing. Tho feeling did
not take words. It was too pervasive,
too complete, for that. No moro
thought could have carried such
weight or conviction. It was too sim
ple for a chain of reasoning. Yet It
carried belief. He had reasoned care
fully and logically to the opposite
conclusion. How was It? Life could
not bo worth living. Since there Is
no permanent happiness, existence
has no reason for being rather-than
for not being, and no certainty of an
outcomo that shall Justify suffering.
Ho smiled at his careful logic, swept
away by the force of pure conviction
Lire was worth living!
It lay before him slmplo as day
light, and as clear. His mind ran
ahead. He must find the work he
could do well, and do It. Herein lay
happiness. Then let him help others
to find their place. He would have
Joy or heart and the purpose that
makes lire reasonable. It mattered
little about the Immortality or tho
soul, Three-score years and ten was
Immortality. The structure or the
universe betrayed a master plan. To
live In unison with this plan, to aid
In Its execution It only ror a rew
years was enough.
He turned to the window and, draw
ing up the shade, looked across the
broken lines or chimney-pots and roors
td the western sky. His henrt leaped
to meet It Beauty had como back to
the earth. He stood drinking It In
with tho eagerness or a traveler who
sees home at last He had not known
how his artist nature had hungered
for It through tho years, The tears
came Into his eyes as he looked. A
tangle of chimneys nnd gables against
a twilight sky, but full of subtle beau
ty. Would It stay with him? Where
had It beon? There In the outer
world but hidden from him becauso
he wns unworthy? Or In his own soul
languishing with Its sickness? Then
In a moment it came to him It was
not In tho world, nor In his sou'. It
was tho soul Itself coming to -on-sclnusnoss,
r-r-ngnlylng Itself. noh,ld
Ing Its own features, as In a glass
existence reaching its highest form la
tho consciousness or the soul. He
stood awed before it It seemed to
stretch away into space, wonderful,
lofty, but close nbout him.
Ho went down to dinner with nn
oagor Interost. Everything had be
come transformed. Mon and women
wore no longor machines wound up to
run through a definite term of pain,
and calling on his sympathy and help,
They wore divine capablo of the
highest happlnoss. Ho felt like leap
ing, exulting, crying uloiid In fulnoss
of Joy at the beauty of life and human
kinship.
"Derrlng was more like himsolf to
night than he has been for years,"
remarked an elderlv man to JiU com
panion as Derring passed from Hie
room where they sat smoking after
dinner.
The speaker was a quiet, thought
ful man with observant gray eyes. He
wns the only one left of thoae who
had been in the houso ten yenr3 be
foro. "Ho always used to be like
that," ho went on, "full or life nnd a
kind of magnetism. He drewyou."
Dorrlng passed out or the house and
down the street, walking with swift,
eager feet. Ho felt cords of sympathy
drawing him to thoso ho met Ho
walked until Into nt night, seeking out
tho busiest streets and pressing In
closo nmong those who thronged
thorn. Her wns Intoxicated with hu
manity and the Joy of life. He must
como closo to It. Ho was thrilling
with n sonso or exultation nil this
living, surging crowd, capable of per
fect development of the dlvlnest Joy!
wnen no roturned to his room, ho
did not retire immediately. There
woro letters Hint must bo written be
fore he slopt Ho had thought, as ho
walked, of two or three young men
whom a word rrom him might help to
hotter positions. He must not miss
his opportunity. Lire was short He
longed to bring happiness to the
world.
Ho fell nslcop, planning for tho
coming day. It seemed Btrnngo to
look forward to tho morrow with any
thing except a sense or dull endur
ance When ho wakened ho could not, for
a momont, account for the feeling that
Seemed to Stretch
Away Into
Space.
wakened with him. Like a child, half
awake, ho groped In memory to recall
the gift that yesterday made him so
happy. Then it camo to him. It had
not failed him. It was not a passlug
mood. He was awake, alive, In a
world full of beauty and love.
CHAPTER XIX.
The morning sun was streaming
Into Derrlng's private office. . Two
young men were waiting for him.
They had come to consult hlra nbout a
pleco of work In the shuns.
Derrlng himself kept out or slum
work. He always answered, when
pressed to give hlmseir to It, that he
had no call thaf wny and a man
needed a very strong call or a great
deal of cheek to thrut hlmseir un
nsked Into a man's home even
though the home happened to be a
poor one. A man's castlo might he
only one corner or a room, but It was
his castle still, rortlfied by all the
laws or Identity and Individuality.
For hlmseir, Derrlng declared, he had
not the courage to Invade It. ir a man
had a genuine call to the' work, let
him do It and thank tho Lord that
called him.
For the dilettante philanthropists
who posed amid the picturesque
squalor or the slums he had only the
keenest shatt or ridicule. It'was his
Insight that made those who wero
taking up the work In earnest seek
his advice. While he had not gone
Into it In person, he was cognizant ot
every step taken, and otten. by his
shrewd counsel, balanced the senti
mentality or over-enthusiasm.
The young men were waiting to
consult him as to the best way of
dealing with a pair or philanthropic
cranks who persisted In thrusting
themselves Into the work and who, by
their obtuseness, were undoing the
best resultB or the past year. While
waiting for Derrlng and discussing
the situation, they had drifted Into
talking of his fitness for tho work and
of the strange delicacy that kept him
from It.
"He stands ready enough to help
any of us fellows that come to him.
But I suppose that's Just It these
people don't got In his way and we
do. Lucky for me, I did!"
A laugh rippled the undercurrent of
the speaker's words. He was seated
. . ..... -
. .. ..Www...... . k w,.uv ai.n,
1 shock or reddish-brown hair rising
straight nhnvn iha hrnml n.V,lt
n nn nnio.nnnii- hio hut ih.nB. 1.....1. 1
bead. He looked as ir he might be
'he driver or anexpress cart or ot
any vehicle that rumbled und rnttled.
In reality, ho was nn artist of much
promise. His sketches had In them
depth of sentiment that cav Hvon
greater promise- than thoir technique.!
"" i o no qno nan oenovea
thai he would over be anything more
than a dnbbler In art. He had had
plenty of money and was lending n
irei devll-maj -cart life, sowing to the
wind and complacently looking for
ward to the Wilrh!n' Now bis suc
cess wag spoken of - a thing as
sured He had.. as ho put It. "got In
Derring's way." and, once there, he
had found aurreuder oaslor than es
cape. "I wondor," he went on, thought
fully, "what it is about him that holds
you so? He doesn't seem to do any-
tiling in nartirnlnr Tint onmohnm i
. - ---..... ..HW WW..-W..W- ..
frail
I, ll , ,
It
"For Your Philanthropic Cranks,"
Said Derrlng.
after you onco know him you can't
get along without him."
( His companion sat lost In thought
"I think It Is because Dorrlng needs
us," he said at Inst
"Needs us?"
"Yes. I never knew a man that
needed peoplo as he does. He gives
himself and never nBks. But a lovo
like that must carry with it a need.
If Dorrlng so much ns lays his hand
on my arm, I feel a power between
us a sort of spiritual rangnetlsm
that I can no moro resist than I can
resist my own heart It somehow
asks as well as gives."
"Oh, well, Conway, you're a poet.
You can't expect a mero artist Ilk
mo to understand anything that can't
bo put Into black and white. But he's
good enough for me."
"For your philanthropic cranks."
said Derrlng as thoy laid tho case be
fore him, "you must have an organiza
tion." They protested In one breath.
"I know. You think that as soon as
a movement has taken on organization
It has lost Its vitality. That Is a mis
taken view of tho case, my young
friends. Organizations wero Invented
to give employment to cranks. You
must make ofllcos and put them in
They will have so much to do run
ning the offices that they will let
"tho poor" alono for awhile. When n
movement Is well under way It must
have an organization as a life-pro-server."
"I suppose It must," said tho art
ist with a sigh. "Can you help us
about tho constitution if wo como
around to-morrow?"
"Come to my room at ten. I'll be
free then."
They roso to go. But the poet
lingered a minute.
Derrlng looked at him Inquiringly.
"It's nothing," ho said, smiling, "I
was only wondering if I might come
a little early?"
"To-night?"
"There's something I want to ask
you about If I may."
"Of course. Come" Ho paused
"I was going to tako a walk before
hand," ho said. "Why couldn't
you "
"Meet you?"
"At the breakwater yes. At nine
thirty." Tho poet's face lighted. "I will bo
there. It's something I can't decide
for myself "
"Then don't expect mo to."
"No. You will help me to seo It I
am not sure of myself.
CHAPTER XX.
The night was warm, but a breeze
came from the lake, fitfully. It greet
ed Derrlng as he opened tho door of
his room after dinner.
Groping his way to the dropllght on
his desk, he had a sense, as he went,
or displacing, In the darkness, other
forms and personalities. He often felt
A In coming Into a vacant room al
ways ir the room was dark or hair
lighted that sense or other forms
giving way to his, retreating, gliding
past, with noiseless being. Always
for a minute they Jostled him, as ir
unable to escape. Then, In a breath,
his presence filled the room to the
lurthest living corner. There was no
i one there.
J He round the dropllght and reached
for a match. The breeze stirred again
and blew against tho hand that held
the match to the dropllght He shaded
It with his other hand, and the light
flared up Into his tired race. HI eyes
smiled ubsently. Ho was thinking or
the poet and his troubles,
Derrlng had moro than hair guessed
them. He had been revolving In his
mind all day what he should sav to
mm.
him. Tho woman was a'strancre crpn.
. ..
lure. uerring bad studied her face
tho night berore at the play. It was
. .... .. . : .
heavv. with deep linos, but there was
something fine in tho eyes. He re
cal'ed them now wistful lju mag
net If.
he pushed back the pacrs on his
defK with a llttlo sign. Why should
thoy come to aim with their troubles?
He was strangely tired. But with it
all. undornonth, beat a sense of com
inn release. Groping for it. as ho
seated himself at the desk, ho took
up his pen and throw off the depres
sion with an offort He was only
tiled. Ho vould go away noxt week
toi a rost. Meantime Beaching for
a siteot of paper he bogan to write.
lie wrote rapidly, re'erring now and
thun to the letters he had pushed
aside, sealing each note aa it was
hnlbhed and laying It ou the pile nt
hand. When the last ono was done,
bo ran over the scatteted letters bo
fore hlra, filing some for reforenco,
tearlnc otusrs across und thnnylm;
them Into the wnato-basket
He looked at his watch nlno
o'clock half nn hour yot. Itlslng ho
stretched himsolf nnd looked about
tho room. He moved to tho window.
It wns a moonlight night and shadows
hung luminous evorywhore, lrrndlat
lng bricks and tiles nnd trees. From
a tower nenr by tho clock Bounded,
spreading sonorously In tho still air.
The curtain swayed a llttlo In tho
breozo nnd ho looped it back. Return
ing to his desk nnd moving the drop
light to the tablo ho drew a big chair
besldo it He searched among tho
books on the tablo and took up a vol
umo of poems.
The poems wero Conway's. Ho had
seen most of them before In manu
script But ho wnnted to read them
again. Ho had not decided what to
say to his visitor. Tho room was
very still. Something burred at tho
screen, tapping It with light touches
a June bug, perhaps. Derrlng paid no
heed. Ho was absorbed In the pago
beforo him. The light fluttered a lit
tle and ho looked up Impatiently. Ho
turned it down, glancing towards the
open window. Ho took up tho book
ngaln. But the poems hnd lost their
hold. His eye wns on tho page, but
about him, nround him, something
stirred. Ho raised IiIb eyes slowly,
He Sank Back the Face Was Gone.
looking towards the window. Against
tho screen, faint against the moon
light, he saw It her face smiling to
him, the eyes shining mistily. Ho
half rose, stretching out his hands to
her. Ho sank back. Tho face was
gone. But her voice, softly, was
speaking to him through the distance:
"You aro coming coming coming"
With a quick exclamation he turned.
The light at his side had gone out
The room lay In darkness. He stared
beforo him. She was not there. No
one wns there. It was tho common
prosaic darkness of a June night
(To be Continued)
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Power of Atcoroey
Bill of Sale,
Option,
Short Will,
Inventory ami Appraisement of Proneriv
Attached. , H '
Appraisal,
Dipping Certificate.
Contest Notice
Affidavit and Order of Publication of Con
test Notice.
Meat Shippers Certificate,
Notice to Ouners before Delivery of Tax
Deud,
1'romiw.ory Nete,
Receipt,
Township Plats,
Road Overaeer of Highway. Annual Settle-
ment.
Letters of Administration with Will An
nexed, . Notice to Appraiser.
,,. . Letters of Guardianship
Affidavit and Undertaking for brtfr of
Attachment,
Venire I'aciat.
Alfidavit against Garnishee
Summons,
Order of Attachmen
j
y
