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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, June 21, 1915, LAST EDITION, Image 19',
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Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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camp In the far -west Of Dick she
did not hear for six years. Then one
day a stranger visited her. He was
from South America. He brought a
tiny tot of a child, a girL
Dying, Dick Barr, then a widower,
had entrusted this friend with some
small means and the little orphan to
be conveyed to the sister he had not
seen for over half a decade.
Mr. Barr had left very little when
he died and Felicia" had supported
herself by giving music lessons. 4Now
a chance would come. What her
brother had sent her would comfort
ably support herself and her little
charge. Felicia planned out a quiet,
patient future. It was rudely broken
It was when she came to read the
closely Bealed letter her brother Dick
had sent her that she was aroused
vitally from her lethargy. Her eyes
flashed, her cheeks were dyed with
shame. She bowed her head and
Then, a grave determination in her,
face, she started forth on the mis
sion of her life. She made arrange
ments for the care of little Alice.
Then Felicia went to the penitentiary
where Woods had served his long
term of imprisonment.
"To find him!" was the constant
burden of her thoughts. "I must."
She shuddered as she stood within
the office of the grim, gaunt penal in
stitution where the man she loved
aye; and the man she respected now
had wasted the best years of his
The records did not aid her much
in ascertaining what had become of
Woods. He had been a good conduct
prisoner and had received a time al
lowance. When he was discharged he
had given no address, as was some
times asked of convicts who had re
"I have no letter coming, no home,
no friends," he had told the warden.
"I have been dead for over four years.
I begin a new life alone, unaided, but
with a firm trust in heaven's ulti-
mate goodness," and the tears rolled
down Felicia's cheeks as this pathetic,
story was old her. j
For over a month Felicia pursued
the dim trail of the vanished man.
She consulted lawyers and detectives
and she advertised. Her heart took
hope as a special agent she had em-1
ployed brought her the first glimmer
of a clew.
"I think we have found your man.
Miss Barr," he said.
"Oh, I am so glad!" murmured Fe
licia, clasping her hands in grateful
"This Allen Woods seems to have
broken down in health after leaving
the penitentiary," narrated the agent,
"the result of his long confinement.
I have learned this much that he
went to Colorado. He was at a place
called Rocky Glen. He may not be
there now, but he was six months
It was a beautiful June morning
when Felicia started out from the lit
tle town of Rocky Glen to go three
miles to where, at the summit of the
great Bald mountain, the townspeo
ple told her, one Allen Woods had
made his home. They spoke of his
swiftly returning health under the in
fluence of the high altitude. He was
working a little gold prospect, a plac
er proposition, from which he made
a fair living.
Often, they said, he came to the
settlement to take part in simple
neighborhood entertainments, for he
was an elocutionist and a musician.
Everybody loved the kindly, genial
Her heart beat wildly as she
reached the vine-covered hut which
he had built for himself. She came
upon him as he stood drinking in the
invigorating air. He stood spellbound
as she spoke his name.
"I have come to restore to you the
money of which my brothers robbed
you," she said clearly. "Here is a
letter you must read. Oh! why did
you do it?
Why? Because of gratitude to hej;