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The day book. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, February 01, 1913, Image 20

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1913-02-01/ed-1/seq-20/

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before he returned the child
'would doubtless have been taken
home. It had been a narrow es
cape but he. had weathered the
storm. In the large city the
chances were that they would
never meet.
Yet the next morning he found
a letter upon his table which set
the blood hurrying through his
veins. Too well he knew that
writing. He opened it slowly,
fighting down the impulse to
fling it into the fire unread.
"Dear Dr. Hamlin," it began.
"I want to see you, to thank you
for saving Ronald's life. Will
you forget and forgive every
thing that has passed? I cannot
rest until I have your forgiveness.
Now all my views have changed.
"MIRIAM."
That was all Miriam. He
thought of Keith, the meditative
bookworm, inhabiting the fine
house at the other end of the
town. So she had never loved
him and now thought to take up
their old friendship again. How
womanlike, to play with fire. But
he would not burn his fingers. He
knew that, once he set eyes on
Miriam again all the old passion
would spring into life, all the em
bers would blaze, and the six
years of struggle would have
gone for nought.
The house of the Keiths was
opposite the park four miles
away from the dingy, old-fashioned
quarter in which St. Mark's
was set. Hamlin had not been
near the place for years. Yet
that afternoon, being free, he did
tramp into the park, and so
tramping through the cool groves
that eased the oppression of that
fiery July day, he found his foot
steps inevitably trending toward
the place which had been forbid
den him.
And at last, toward the cool of
the afternoon, he found himself
seated upon a bench facing the
Keith mansion, dreaming vain
dreams. He remembered that
spot well; there Miriam and he
had sat together when they plan
ned their bridal tour. They were
to go to Florida and the Bermu
das; afterward they were to have
taken a modest house not far
from where they sat discussing
their plans with the foolish hap
piness of lovers.
He had been dreaming for half
an hour when he was suddenly
recalled to himself. A quiet, elder
ly man was standing in front of
him. The face seemed familiar.
The man stretched out his hand.
"Are you not Dr. Hamlin, sir?"
he asked. "Yes, I was sure I
knew your face. My name is
Abel Keith. Surely you remem
ber me?"
"Indeed I do, Mr. Keith," said
Hamlin, springing to his feet
courteously. So this was Mir-
liam's husband. He could well
imagine how the disparity in
tastes and years must have
weighed on her.
"Miriam sent you a letter yes
terday," said Mr. Keith, taking a
place beside him. "We hoped that
you would call. My wife and her
sister will be passing this way in
a few moments on their return
from the hospital t they always
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