May 1931
T h e K i n g ’ s
213
B u s i n e s s
The Return of the Tide A New Serial S tory B y Z enobia B ird
you. terribly. Every time the set of us gets together somebody brings up Marian Linton.” He could scarcely have said a more unfortunate word. Of course they were talking about her, her poverty, her brother’s disgrace, her sorrow and loss. He saw his blunder in an instant, as he caught the hurt expression on her face. He wished he could say something that would undo it, but feared to stumble only deeper. His face softened, as he saw the tears in her eyes. She was so dear, so sweet and lovely to look upon, so altogether charming—if only she would drop that mash of ice. Then he started to talk about things in general, some of the news of the day. Had she heard that it was rumored that the failure of the Tuckerton-Folsom Company was not so bad as was at first supposed? She could hardly conceal the start of surprise. This was one of the companies in which her father’s money had been in vested. She questioned him as to the basis of the rumor. And then, an ugly thought obtruded itself. Marian was sensitive, and she had quite decided that Nelson’s indifference and his readiness to accept her dis missal was because of her poverty. He had come to her tonight of his own accord,.and it comforted her. But when he mentioned the report—-as she fancied—that her money had not all been lost, it seemed the last straw. He could go now, and go forever! He never dreamed what she had taken from his words, nor what had happened that made her suddenly want to get rid of him. He wondered at her silence and her freezing manner, and was genuinely puzzled, but soon took his departure. And Marian, as she shut the door on Nelson’s retreat ing figure and turned to go up the stairs, with tears roll ing down her white face, said deep down in her heart, “And faith in men goes out on the tide, too.” The final break with Nelson had severed the last tie, and she felt she could endure not another day. She would go at once to Cdusin Rhetta’s, and she would never come back. Early in the afternoon she was standing in the door way pulling on her gloves, ready to start for the station to get her railroad ticket, when she noticed a telegraph boy coming up the street. Idly she watched him. Why, he was stopping at their gate! Who could be sending them a telegram? If it was for her, it must be from her brother. What was Bob up to now? Was he coming to help her, or was he in trouble again ? And where was he ? The boy glanced at the number on the house and then at her. “Marian Linton?” he asked. “Yes, I am Miss Linton,” she answered quietly, as she reached for the missive. She must not let this boy see that she was at all excited, not if it was a telegram from Bob. Oh, he must be in some terrible trouble, or he would never risk a telegram. And how did he know her present address?
Marian Linton, suddenly bereft of both parents, was left alone to carry heavy burdens. Her money gone, her only brother in hiding from justice, her faith in God and man sadly shattered, she found herself one Sunday af ternoon in a quiet part of the beach, where she and Nelson Barrington had often been together before he, too, had' de serted her. As she sat watching the ebbing tide, a curious fancy came to her. Could that little pool, fast evaporating in the sun, represent the tragedy of her life? And would her capacity for love and faith and hope shrivel and die, as the tiny creatures in the pool were about to do? Later, as she looked again, a great wave of the now returning tide raced up the beach and flung itself over the desolate pool. Perhaps for her also the tide would turn. — o— CHAPTER II IND friends helped Marian to break up her old home, and she took a room temporarily with a friend in humble circumstances. What she wanted now most of all was to get away from everything she had known, and she looked for ward to a quiet haven in the home offered her by Cousin Rhetta, a distant relative living in another state. She was sitting in her room one evening after a par ticularly wearying day, when she was called to the tele phone. It was Nelson. He had heard that she was leav ing the city and he wanted to see her. Could she see him that night? Her heart leaped at the sound of the dear familiar voice, and then sank again, as she remembered. But she was lonely, and he seemed the last tie that bound her to the past. She told him simply that she would be very glad to see him. “I ’ll be right over. ’Bye,” he answered. A few minutes later she answered the ring at the door herself, and ushered Nelson Barrington into the cozy living room. She was alone. He tried to greet her with the old-time friendliness, exclaiming as he seated himself after a glance around the room, “Gee, you certainly have ‘cut’ your friends for the last few weeks. Marian, what makes you do it? Why did you come away off here instead of staying with some of our own bunch?” “Our own bunch, as you call them, don’t care much for me now,” she answered bitterly. “Oh, come now, it isn’t so bad as all that. We’re a pretty good bunch after all, come to know us.” “Yes, you are, when everything is going all right. You are good to play with, but not much help when there’s trouble around.” “Marian, you aren’t fair. You know we’re all mighty sorry for all the trouble you’ve been having. We miss
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