The Carroll Sentinel from Carroll, Iowa on July 13, 1894 · Page 10
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The Carroll Sentinel from Carroll, Iowa · Page 10

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Friday, July 13, 1894
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Colnmbns Discovered America, We Keep it Clean WHk Santa Claus Soap. OW IS THE TIME TO PREPARE FOR SPRING WORK. The first thing necessary ii good comfortable sh >es and you will find the best line at MOORE'S SHOE STORE Also the best lines of fine shoes at most popular prices. REPAIRING A SPECIALTY South Side Fifth Street, CARROLL, IOWA. YOU WANT THE BEST THE BEST IS NONE TOO GOOD For the readers of THE SENTINEL, and we have made arrangements whereby we can give the best weekly newspaper in the world, The New M World, Together with THE WEEKLY SENTINB for the price of THE SENTINEL alone. No other newspaper has BO muob varied and special matter for its weekly edition an THE WOULD, and we (eel that in offering BOTH PAPERS FOR $2 We are giving oar eatMoribera the beat premium we could offer them Don't delay, but send in your eubaoription at once. Remember, The New York World and The Weekly Sentinel For Only $2 for One Y ear. THE SENTINEL. Carroll, Iowa. READ BY THE BEST PEOPLE SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT. Intelligence tho^Ouly RequltiltoTfor Appreciation, The IS CONDUCTED AS A COMPLETE ALL-AROUND NEWSPAPER. Cleanliness, Clearness, Conciseness Times Characterize Its SPEAKING ABOUT NEWS, It has the complete telegraphic service of the Associated Press, in addition to its regular staff of out-of-town correspondents. Its market reports give the most complete details of any weekly paper in the United States. It is a mine of literary wealty. It contains the latest stories from the pens, of the most noted authors, biographical sketches of the most prominent men, the best wit of the day, scientific -and religious discussions, in addition to the full news report of the week, and the best agricultural department of any weekly connected with a daily in the!world, It must be seen to be appreciated. Send for sample copy. We have made arrangements with this great paper to give it ABSOLUTELY FREE with each yearly subscription paid in advance, This offer is open but a short time, Take advantage of it. Address CAUUOJ.L SUNTINlSt, Carroll, iowa BOTH PAPERS FOR $2. B; BEATRICE HABRADEN. CHAPTER VI. THE TBAVELEIl AND THE TEMPLE OP KNOWLEDGE. Countless ages ago a Traveler, much Worn •with journeying, climbed the last bit of rough road which led to the summit of a high mountain. There Was a toinplo on that mountain, and the Traveler had Towed that he would reach-It before death prevented him. He knew the journey was long and the road rough. He knew that the mountain was the most difficult of ascent of that mountain chain called The Ideali. But he had a, strongly hoping heart and B sure foot. He lost all sense of time, but he never lost the feeling of hope. "Even If I faint by the wayside," he •aid to hlWMlf, "and am not able to reach the summit, still it Is something to be on the road which lends to the High Ideals." That was how he comforted himself when he was weary. He never lost more nope than that, and surely that was little enough. And now he had reached the temple. Ho rang the bell, and an old white haired man opened the gate. He smiled sadly when he saw the Traveler. 'And yet another one," he murmured. "What does it all moan'?' The Traveler did not hear what he murmured. "Old white haired man," he said, "tell me, and so I have come at last to the won- lerful Temple of Knowledge. I have been journeying hither all my life. Ah, but it is hard work climbing up to The Ideals." The old man touched the Traveler on the arm. "Listen," he said gently. "This Is not the Temple of Knowledge. And The [deals are not a chain of mountains. They we a stretoh of plains, and the Temple of knowledge Is in their center. You have oome the wrong road. Alas, poor Traveler I" The light in the Traveler's eyes had faded. The hope in his heart died. And he became old and withered. He leaned heavily on his staff. Can one rest heref" he asked wearily. No." Is there a way down the other side of these mountains?" "No." "What are these mountains called?" "They have no name." "And the temple—how do you call the temple?" "It has no name." "Then I call it the Temple of Broken Hearts," said the Traveler. And he turned and went. But the old white haired man followed him. "Brother," he said, "you are not the Brat to come here, but you may be the last. QO'baok to the plains and tell the dwellers In the plains that the Temple of True Knowledge is in their very midst. Any one may enter It who chooses. The gates are not even closed. The temple has always been in the plains, in the very heart of life and work and daily effort. The philosopher may enter; the stonebreaker may enter. You must have passed it every day of your life—a plain, venerable building, unlike our glorious cathedrals." "I have seen the children playing near It," said the Traveler. "When I was a child, I used to play there. Ah, if I had only known! Well, the past Is the past."_ He would have tested against a huge •tone, but that the eld white hatred man prevented him. "Do not rest," ho said. "If you once rest there, you will not rise again. When you once rest, you will know how weary you are." "I have no wish to go farther," said, the Traveler. "My journey is done. It may have been in the wrong direction, but still It is done." "Nay, do not linger here," urged the old man. "Retrace your steps. Though you are broken hearted yourself, you may save others from breaking their hearts. Those whom you meet on this road you can turn back. THoso who are but starting in this direction you can bid pause and consider bow mad it is to suppose that tho Temple of True Knowledge should have been built on an isolated and dangerous mountain. Tell them that although God seems hard be Is not as hard as all that. Tell them that The Ideals are not a mountain range, but their own plains, where their gicat cities are built, and where tho corn grows, and where men and women nro tolling, •ometlmes in sorrow and sometimes in Joy." "I will go," sitid the Traveler. And he started. But ho hod grown old and weary. And tho journey was long, and the retracing of one's steps is more tiresome than the tracing of them. The ascent, with all the vigor and hope of life to help him, hod boon difficult enough. The descent, with no vigor and no hope to help him, was almost impossible. Bo that It was not probable that the Traveler lived to reach tho plains. But whether ho rcaaLid them or not, still he bod started. And not many travelers do that. CHAPTER VII. DKUNABDINE. The crisp mountain air and the warm •unshino began slowly to have their effect on Bernardino, in spite of tho Disagreeable Man's vurdlot. Sho still looked singularly lifeless and appeared to drag herself about with painful effort, but tho place iulted her, and she enjoyed sitting in the •un listening to tho muslo whloh was played by a soratohy string bund. Some of the Kurhaus guests, seeing that she was •lone and ailing, made some attempt to be kindly to bar. She always somnoa astonished that people should concern themselves about her. Whatever her faults were, it never struck her that she might be of any importance to others, however important she might be to herself. Sho was grateful for any little klndnona whloh was •bown her, but at first sho kept vory much to herself, talking chiefly with the Dlsiv- greeablo Man, who, by tho way, had surprised every one—but no one more than himself—by his unwonted behavior in bestowing ovon a fraction of hln companion•bin on a I'dUirshof human being. Tbero was " tfrout deal of curiosity about btr, but no one ventured to question her •luce Mr*. Ueffold's defeat. Mm. llettold bersrif mther avoided lior, having always » vagus subploJun that Berutmlluo tried to wake fun of her. But whether out of nor- verslty or not Uoruurdiuo never would bo •voided by ho* 1 , never Jet her nags by without a few word* of wnTwentlon, and ul* ways wont to her for information, much to the umusomeut of Mrs. liolfold's faithful atUudauts. VlMiru wa» always a twinkle In Bernardino's eye when she vpoku with Miu Uuf- (old. Bite nover fanteuod liuruolf tyito any cmo. No ouo could say sho Intruded. A» tluio wcut on there was a vnguo sort of feeling that alto did »ot Intnulo enough. 6he was rpady to. suuuk if any onu curwl to speak with her, but she never began aeoto- versntioti except with Mrs. Beffold. When people cHd talk to her, they found her genial. Then the sad face would smile kindly and the sad eyes speak kind sympathy, or some bit of fun would flash forth itnd peal of young laughter ring put. It seemed strange that such fun could come from her. Those who noticed her said she appeared always to bo thinking. She was thinking and learning. Some few remarks roughly made by the Disagreeable Man had impressed her deeply. "You have come to a new world," he said, "the world of suffering. You are in a fury because your career has been checked and because you have been put on the shelf—you of all people. Now you will learn how many quite as able as yourself, and abler, have been put on the shelf, too, and have to stay there. You are only a pupil in suffering. What about the professors? If your wonderful wisdom has left you with any sense at all, look about you and learn." So she was looking and thinking and learning. And as the days went by perhaps a softer light came into her eyes. All her life long her standard of judging people had been an intellectual standard or an artistic standard—what people had done with outward and visible signs, how far they had contributed to thought, how far they had influenced any great movement or originated it, how much of a benefit they had been to their century or their country, how much social or political activity, how much educational energy they had devoted to the pressing need of the times. She was undoubtedly a clever, cultured young woman. Tho great work of her life had been self culture. To know and understand she had spared neither herself nor any one else. To know and to use her acquired knowledge Intellectually as teacher, perhaps, too, as writer, had been the great aim of her life. Everything that furthered this aim won her Instant attention. It never struck her that she was selfish. One does not think of that until the groat check comes. One goes on and would go on. But a barrier rises up. Then, finding one can advance no farther, one turns round, and what does one seef Bernardino saw that she hod come a long journey. She saw what the Traveler saw. That was all she saw at first. Then she remembered that she had done the journey entirely for her own sake. Perhaps it might not have looked so dreary if it had been undertaken for some one else. She had claimed nothing of anyone; she had given nothing to any one; she had simply taken her life in her own hands and mode what she could of it. What had she mode of It? Many women asked for riches, for position, for Influence and authority and admiration. She hod only asked to be able to work. It seemed little enough to ask. That she asked so little placed her, so she thought, apart from the common herd 'of eager askors. To bo out off from active life and earnest work was a possibility which never occurred to her. It never crossed her mind that in asking for tho one thing for which sho longed she was really asking for the greatest thing. Now, in the hour of her enfceblement and in the hour of the bitterness of her heart, she still prided herself upon wanting so little. "It seems so little to ask," sho cried to herself time after time. "I only want to be able to do a few strokes of work. I would be content now to do so little if only I might do some. Tho laziest day laborei on tho road would laugh at the small amount of work which would content mo now." Sho told tho Disagreeable Man that one day. "So you think you are moderate in your demands,"he said to her. "You are a most amusing young woman. You are so perfectly unconscious how exacting you really are. . For, after all, what is it you want? You want to have that wonderful brain of yours restored, so that you may begin to teach and perhaps write a book. Well, to repeat my former words, you are still at phase one, and you are longing to be strong enough to fulfill your ambitious and write a book. When you arrive at phase four, you will be quite content to dust one of your uncle's books instead— far more useful work and far more worthy of encouragement. If every one who wrote books now would be satisfied to dust books already written, what a regenerated world it would become 1" Sho laughed good tomperodly. His remarks did Hfll vox her, or at least she showed no vexation. Ho seemed to have constituted himself as her critic, and she made no objections. She had given him little bits of stray confidence about herself, and she received everything ho had to say with that kind of forbearance whlph chivalry bids us show to tho weak and ailing. She made allowances for him, but she did more than that for him—sho did not let him see that she made allowances. Moreover, sho recognized amidst all his roughness a certain kind of sympathy whloh she could not resent because it was not aggressive, for to some natures tho expression of sympathy is an Irritation—to bo sympathized with moans to bo pitied, and to bo pitied means to bo looked down upon, She was sorry for him, but sho would not have told hint so for worlds. He would have shrunk from pity its much as she did. And yet tho sympathy which sho thought she did not wunt for herself sho was silently giving to those around her like herself thwarted, each in a different way perhaps, still thwarted all tho Hume. Sho found moro than once that sho wits learning to measure pooplo by a standard different from her former ono—not by what they had done or boon, but by what they had suffered. But such a ohungo un this does not eomo suddenly, though, in a place like 1'ctorsbof; It comes quickly, almost uneonselously. Sho bceumo Immensely interested lu some of tho guests, and thero wore curious types in tho Kurhuus. Tho foreigners attracted her chiefly. A little Parisian dansouso, none too quiet In her munner, won Burititrdlno's fancy. "I so want to get bettor, ohorio," sho said to lioruurdluo. "Life is so bright. Death—alt, how tho vory thought iiwlws one Bhlverl That horrid doctor say» I nuiut not Hltitte. It is not wUo, When wiw .( Wise? WUo pooplo dou't unjoy thentwivos. And I havu enjoyed myself unit vjill i". ill." ''How can you go about with that Ih lla danueuso?" tho DUagruuublo Muitsulilto Bernardino ono day. '' 1 Jo you kuow who shots)"' "Yon,"tiuid Bernardino. "Shu is the lady who thinks you must bu a vory ill bred person boouuso you stalk into ittouU with your hauds lit your uookaU. Sho wondered liow I could brlttg mynolf to speak to you." "I duru uuy many paoplu wonder at that," null! Hubert AWt*ouritthwnoovliU- '/• '•Oh, MO," ropliod Boriiurdlne. "They wonder Unit you talk to wo. They think 1 must either bo vury oluvor or wso vurjf disagreeable." "I should not call you clever," said Robert Allitseii grimly. '•No," answered Bcrnanllue pensively. "But I always did think myself clover until I cnme hero. Now 1 am beginning to know bettor. But it is rather a shock, isn't it?" "I have never experienced the shock," he sntcl. "Then you still think you nro clever?" sho tiaked. ''There Is only one man my Intellectual equal In Petershof, and ho Is not hero nny more," lie snkl gravely. "Now 1 come to remember, ho died. That la the worst of making friendships here—people dio." "Still, it is something to bo left king of the intellectual world," said Bernardino. "I never thought of you In that light.' 1 Thero was a sly smile about lior lips as she spoke, and thcra was tho ghost of a smile on the Disagreeable Man's i'uce. "Why do you talk with that horrid Swede?" he said suddenly. "Ho is a wretched low foreigner. Have you heard some of his views?" "Some of them," answered Bernardino cheerfully. "One of his views Is really amusing—that It Is very rude of you to read tho newspaper during mealtime, and he asks if it is an English custom. I tell him it depends entirely on tho Englishman and the Englishman's neighbor I" So she, too, had her raps at him, but always in the kindest way. He had a curious effect on her. His very bitterness seemed to check in its growth her own bitterness. Tho cup of poison of which he himself had drunk deep he passed on to her. She drank of it, and it did not poison her. She was morbid, and she needed cheerful companionship. Hit dismal companionship and his hard way of looking at life ought by rights to have oppressed her, instead of which she became less sorrowful. Was the Disagreeable Man perhaps a reader of character? Did he know how to help her in his own grim, gruff way? He himself had suffered so much. Perhaps he did know. f vm. CHAPTER THK'BTOBT MOVES ON AT LAST., Bernardino was playing chess one day with the Swedish professor. On the Kur- haus terrace tho guests were sunning themselves, warmly wrapped up to protect themselves from the cold and well provided with parasols to protect themselves from the glare. Some were reading, some were playing cards or Russian dominoes, and others were doing nothing. Thero was a good deal of fun and a great deal of screaming among the Portuguese colony. The little dansouso and throe gentlemen acquaintances were drinking coffee and not behaving too quietly. Pretty Frauleln Mullor was leaning over 'her balcony carrying on a conversation with a picturesque Spanish youth below. Most of the English party hod gone sledging and tobogganing. Mrs. Reffold had asked Bernardino to join them, but she hod refused. Mrs. Roffold's friends were anything but attractive to Bernardino, although she liked .Mrs. Roffold herself immensely. There was no special reason why she should like her. She certainly had no cause to admire her everyday behavior, nor her neglect of her Invalid husband, who was passing away, uncarcd for in the present and not likely to be mourned for in the future. Mrs. Reffold was gay, careless and beautiful. She understood nothing about nursing and cared less. So a train ed nurse looked after Mr. Reffold, and Mrs. Roffold w«nt sledging. "Dear Wilfrid is so unselfish," sho said. "He will not have mo stay at home. But I feel very selfish." That-was her stock remark. Most people answered her by saying, "Oh, no, Mrs. Keffold,don'tsay that." But when sho made tho remark to Bernardino and expected tho usual reply Bernar- dlne said Instead: "Mr. Roffold seems lonely." "Oh, ho has a trained nurse, and she can read to him," said Mrs, Roffold hurriedly, She seemed ruffled. I had a trained nurse once," replied Bomardlne, "and she could road, but she would not. Sho said it hurt her throat." "Dear me, how very unfortunate for you!" said Mrs Roffold. "Ah, there Is Captain Graham calling. I must not keep the sledges waiting." That was a few days ago, but today when Bernardino was playing chess with tho Swedish professor Mrs, Reffold came to her. There was a curious mixture of shyness and abandon in Mrs. Reffold's manner. Miss Holme," she sold, "I have thought of such a splendid Idoij. Will you go and BOO Mr. Roffold this afternoon? That would bo a nice little change for him." Bernardino smiled. "If you wMt it," sho answered. Mrs. Reffold nodded and hastened away, and Bernardino continued her gome, and having finished it rose to go. The Roffolds wore rich and lived in a suit of apartments in tho more luxurloui part of the Kurhaus. Bernardino knocked at the door, and tho nurse came to open It, "Mrs, Roffold asks mo to visit Mr. Rof fold," Bernardino sold, and tho nurse showed her Into the pleasant sitting room Mr. Roffold wu'J lying on tho sofa. Ho looked up us Bernardino canto in, and a smile of pleasure spread over his wan face, "I don't know whether I intrude," said Bernardino, "but Mrs. Roffold sold I might come toseo you." Mr. Roffold signed to tho nurso to with draw. Sho had never before spoken to him. Sho had often soon him lying by btiimull in tho sunslilno. "Are you paid for coming to nto?" hu asked eagerly. Tho words seemed rudu onoutch, bill thero was no rudeness In tho manner. "No, I am not paid," ulio said gently, and then she took a chair and Hat near him. "Ah, that's welll" ho said, wltltuNlgl ofrollof. "I'm so tired of paid service To know that tilings itru done for mo bu causa a certain amount of fratio* aro glvui so that thoBo things may Ira done—well ono gets weary of it; (hat's alll" There wits bitterness in ovary word ho spoke. " I llo here,'' ho sold,'' and tho lone lluoitt of It—the loneliness of ill" "Shall I road to you)" 1 shoaskwl kindly She did not know what to say to him. "I want toUilkJlM," ho ronllud. "7 want to talk first to some ono who is no paid for talking to mo. I huvo ofuii watched you and wondered who you wore Why do you look so sod? No onu Is wait ing for you to die." "Don't talk like that I" oho said, am she bout over htm and arranged tho oush ions for him more ouiuforUtbly, Ho look od just llko a grout lank tlrod olilld. "Aro you imo of my wife's frlondiil" 1 It askixl. "1 don't suppose I ant, "she answered gon:!y, "but I llko her, till the same. In dwxl 1 llko hor v«py itiuuli. And Ityhln! horbcuuUftil." "Ah, vho In Ixuuitlfull" hu said wtgwrly "Duuvu't uho look splendid in hor fart By Jovo, you uro right! Kho IH a buuutl (ul Vt-omiM'. I.twit, I'fuiu) of lior,'' Then the smite failed from his iftce. "Beautiful," lie said half to hlmsell, but hard." ./T . "Come, now," sftld Bernardino, "ytm f re surrounded with books and newspfr , pers. What shall I read to youP" No ono reads what I want," he answer* ed peevishly. "My tastes aro not their Bastes. I don't suppose you would care to read what I want to hear." Well," she said cheerily, "try me. Make .rour choice." "Very well, Tho Sporting and Dromat- o," ho said. ''Bead every word of that. And nbout that theatrical divorce case. nd every word- of that too. Don't you kip ond cheat me." Sho laughed and settled herself down to amuse him. And he listened contentedly. "That is something like literature," he aid once or twice. "I con understand pa- ere of that sort going like wildfire." When ho was tired of being read to, she. ;alkcd to him In a manner that would. iave astonished tho Disagreeable Man:— jot of books nor learning, but of people be had met and of places she had Been, and thero was fun In everything she said, iho knew London well, and sho could tell ilm about tho Jewish and tho Chinese uarters and about her adventures In corn- any with a man who took her hero, there, and everywhere. She mode him some tea, and she cheered, be poor fellow as he had not been cheered or months. "You're just a little brick!" he said fhon she was leaving. Then once more " ie added eagerly: "And you'ro not to be paid, are youf" "Not a single sou,'' sho laughed. ' 'What i strongo idea of yours!" ''You are not offended?" he said anx- ously. "But you can't think what a dif- ercnce it makes to mo. You are not of- endedP" "Not In the leastl" she answered. "I mow quite well how you mean It. You want a little kindness with nothing at the lack of it. Now goodbyt" He called her when she was outside the. door. "I say, will you come again soonf" "Yes, I will come tomorrow." "Do you know you've been a little brick, hope I haven't tired you. You are only bit of a thing yourself; but, by Jove, r ou know how to put a fellow In a good. , emperl" • When Mrs. Reffold wont down to table- ' L'hote that night, she met Bernardino on iho stairs and stopped to speak with her. "We've had a splendid afternoon," she- said, "and we've arranged to go again tomorrow at the samo time. Such a pity •ou don't cornel Oh, by tho way, thank r ou for going to see my husband. I hope ie did not tire you. Ho is a little queru- ous, 1 think. Ho so enjoyed your visit. Poor follow I It is sad to see him so ill, sn't UP" CHAPTER IX. BBRNABDINE PREACHES. After this scarcely a day passed but Bernardine went to see Mr. Roffold. The- most inexperienced eye could have known ihat he was becoming rapidly worse. Marie, the chambermaid, knew it and spoke of it frequently to Bernardino. The poor lonely fellow!" sho said time after time. Every ono except Mrs. Roffold seemed to recognize that Mr. Reffold's days were numbered. Either sho did not or would lot understand. She made no alteration n the disposal of her time. Sledging parties and skating picnics were tho order of ihe day. She was thoroughly pleased wltn »er«olf and jenoivod the attentions of her admirers as a matter of course. The Pe- ienhof climate had got Into her head, and t is a well known foot that this glorious ilr has tho effect on some people of banish- ' Jig from thoir minds all inconvenient no- Jons of duty and devotion and all memory of the special object of their sojourn In Petorshof. Tho coolness and calmness •with which such pooplo ignore thoir responsibilities or allow strangers to as-, sumo them would be an occasion for humor If it wore not an opportunity for indignation, thbugh indeed it would take a vory exceptionally sober inindod spectator not to got some fun out of the blissful •elf satisfaction and unconsciousness which characterize the most negligent of "caretaker* " MM. Roffold was not the only sinner in this respect. It would have boon Interesting to get together a tea party of invalids alone and set tho ball rolling about the respective behaviors of their respective friends. Not a pleasing chronicle. No very aholoe pages to add to the book of real life. Still valuable items In their way, repre- •entative of tho actual as opposed to tho Ideal. In most Instances there would have been ample testimony to that cruel monster known as neglect. Bernardino spoke onoe to the Disagree- Able Man on this subject. Sho spoke with Indignation, and lie answered with indifference, shrugging his shoulders. These things occur," he said. "It Is not that they aro worse here than everywhere else. It Is simply that they aro together In an' accumulated mass and as •uoh strike us with tremendous force, I myself am accustomed to those exhibitions of selfishness and neglect. I should bo astonished If they did not take place. Don't mix yourself up with anything. If peopjjpi aro neglected, they aro neglected, and there, ^ is tho end of it. To Imagine th(it you i are going to do any good by filling up this ^ breach Is simply an insanity loading to unnecessarily, disagreeable consequences. I know you go to sco Mr. Uoffold. Tako my advloo and keep away." You spoak like a Culvlulst," she answered, rather ruffled, "with tho quintessence of suit proUxstlvonosB, and I don't bullovu you mean u word you say." "My duar young woman," ho said, "wo are not living In u poetry book bound with gilt edges. Wo uro living In a ]>upor backod volume of proso. llo sensible. Don't rufilo yourself on account of other pooplo. Don't oven tn/*>lo to orltlolso them. It Is only a nulsnnoo to yourself. All this •Imply points bnok to my first suggestion. Fill up your tlmo with sumo hobby, choose mites or tho Influenza bacillus, and then you will bo quite content t<> lot people bo neglected, lonely uiul to die. You will look upon It us an ordinary tinil natural process." Sho waved her hmtd an though to etop him. "Thoro uro days," who wild, "when I oau't boar to talk with you, and this I* ono of thorn." "I am sorry," ho answered, quite gently for him, ami ho movud uwiy from lior and started for his usual louoly walk. liernanllno turned homo, Intending to go to sou Mr. Jk'fl'oia. Ho hud become quite uttuehud to her and looked forward eagerly to her vUlttf. Hu sold lior vuloe was gimllu iiml her manner quiet; there was no bulling vitality about her to Irritate hU worn nm'vori. llo wus probably uu rnipty luuulwl, bMiplu fellow, but it was HOMO tho loii Kail to soo him plowing uwuy. lie ualk'd hue Llttlo Urlvk. Ho «uld t' 110 otlior oplihvt milted her BO exactly. wu« ijulto bulUilotl nuw that bhowtwj paid for coming to BOO him. As fur th«'

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