Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 46: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

196 He did not see a slender form standing in the pale shadow until he was very near. Then something arrested him as vaguely familiar in the poise of the motionless figure gazing off toward the dim Volcan de Agua. An appealing wistfulness appeared in the profile of his face as the girl stood there unconscious of his presence. How strangely everything reminded him of “ her” to-night! He hoped with all his soul she would not move. Just the resem- blance he imagined he could trace in her attitude might vanish if she stirred, the seme curve to the delicate neck, the same golden curls half-hiding the pearl-tinted ear. If he could only hold out his arms and call her, as he used to! But she had turned her head from him now. ‘There was something pathetic in her movement, as she paused again for a moment. She was turning toward him again. She raised her face upon which the full light of the moon shone brightly. She was gazing toward him, and there were tears in her eyes, just as there had been that last time he had looked into them. “Lucille!” 7 He spoke the name unconsciously. It was at once an exclamation and a question. “Yes, Larry—I’m here. I’m one of the teachers.” “ But, Lucille—why didn’t you write? Why didn’t you answer my letters?”’ THE U ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘* Because I never got them, Larry! Not until a few weeks ago. Don’t judge my father harshly. He thought it was only a boy and girl affair. He lost everything just after you left. Then—he kept your letters from me so that I would forget you and marry a man that could help him out. I felt forsaken and hurt by what seemed your indifference. And—” ‘“‘ But mother wrote you were married!” ‘““T was engaged. I would have been married, but—the man was in a motor ac- cident just before the time set.” “Not killed?” “Yes. Father had had a hard struggle. I then went to work to help. He died last winter, and I found your letters put away in his desk. I owed you this explanation. I prayed for a chance to see you on this trip, even schemed for the appointment— but was afraid till now I’d missed it after all, I suppose, though, you’ve—forgotten —by this time, or else you hate me.” Larry stood very near her now. * Forgotten, Lucille? I have had other things to forget, but not you. I tried to hate you for a while, but in my soul I knew there was some mistake. Is it too late, Lucille? Couldn’t you love me again?” “ Again? Larry, look at me!” Larry looked. He found his happiness in her eyes and on her lips as he held her close. END U U I WwILe WILL start anew this morning with a higher, fairer creed; I will cease to stand complaining of my ruthless neighbor’s greed; I will cease to sit repining while my duty’s call is clear, I will waste no moment whining and my heart shall know no fear. I will look sometimes about me for the things that merit praise; I will search for hidden beauties that elude the grumbler’s gaze; I will try to find contentment in the paths that I must tread, I will not be swayed by envy when my rival’s strength is shown; I will not deny his merit, but will try to prove my own; I will try to see the beauty spread before the rain or shine— I will cease to preach your duty and be more concerned with mine. B. G. Robinson. GOMIIGooOo 6S (C@) nn