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every one and living entirely by himself."

Auntie Fay laughed a low, clear, rippling laugh. Betty's seriousness had always amused her. "What a foolish thought, child. He impresses me as being quite an average man, very much engrossed in his work." And Auntie Fay returned to her book, leaving Betty to her own thoughts.

That evening out on the wide east veranda, Mrs. Fay was struggling with a large wicker chair which had caught in the reed rug as she tried to move it nearer the porch rail. In an instant the Silent Man, who stood near, came to her side. "May I help you? It seems to be rather heavy."

Mrs. Fay's smile was one of welcome as she thanked him, and to the man who towered so far above her she confided that because of her want of greater physical strength she did sometimes mind her meager height.

"I assure you I would hardly think of it as a grievance if I were you. It has given me pleasure to be of help," and the Silent Man turning sank into a chair near the one he had placed for Auntie Fay's comfort.

When Betty came out later in the evening, she paused in mild surprise and would have turned back if Mrs. Fay had not spoken to her. And this was the beginning of a friendship which slowly drew Betty into its meshes and held her fast.

During the days which followed, the Silent Man often joined them in the little arbor, or invited them to go for a stroll along the lake shore in the early evening. And sometimes after his canoe had swung out into the lake and rounded the pier, he would touch shore again on the white sands before the arbor and call a glad invitation to the two people there. This invitation, however, Auntie Fay always declined, for she had a fear of the water after the shadows began to lengthen, though she would urge Betty to go, for the girl loved to be out on the water at any time of the day and found keen delight in skimming along over its smooth surface.

July and August were fading into the past and September was drawing near, when one evening the Silent Man's canoe again touched shore before the vine-covered arbor, and Betty in keen anticipation of the pleasure which lay before her, skipped lightly down to the water's edge and took her place among the cushions.

It was an unusually warm evening. The sun still held its own in all its sunset glory above the western hills, so the Silent Man and Betty under the mystical lure of the North-the lure of the setting sun- ventured farther up the lake than was their custom, and when they found themselves beyond the bend of the first point, with the darkness of the coming night still poised in unreality, they decided to go ashore and stroll the short distance through the wood to the little spring which bubbled clear and cool under the willows just beyond this point.

Following the trail which lay close to the water's edge, they went on for some distance until suddenly, to their astonishment and surprise, the trail ended in a tangle of vines and underbrush. They had taken little heed of the oncoming darkness, and now when they turned, confident that they could still retrace their steps, they saw even this part of the trail lost in the deepening shadows of the forest. But Betty's mind held no thought of fear. She knew the man who stood beside her would be able to find a way out, and take her safely back to Birch Croft. Turning she spoke to him, but the Silent Man did not seem to hear. He stood looking out across the lake, deep in thought.

Suddenly he took a step forward and drew the girl into his arms, bringing her near, nearer his heart. "Betty

Girl, do you know how much I love you?" His voice though vibrant with emotion held firm, and in a torrent of words and caresses he poured forth his love-a love which had grown deep and still. The quick change in his mood startled Betty, but soon his words conveyed his meaning to her and she felt a warmth and light filling

her life which she had never felt before. It was a dream. A beautiful dream. The dream of her life come true. And then, swiftly following his words of love came a plea in the intensity of a strong man's will: "Betty tell me it isn't too late. It isn't too late, Girl?"

As slowly as his words of love had awakened the warmth in her heart, so slowly, but surely, did these words fill her heart with an icy fear. "Too late, too late!" The words echoed and reechoed through her mind. What weird spectre was this lurking in the foreground to rob her of her dream of happiness? Was all life coming to her, too late?

Gently but firmly, Betty drew away, the Silent Man offering no resistance, his arms falling slowly to his sides. The thought which had prompted the utterance of those fateful words evidently prompted him also, to hold in reserve any further expression of his love.

For a time they stood still in the silence of the night, each trying to unravel the invincible web of destiny. A light breeze blowing in from the lake, and a sense of the creeping darkness brought to them a realization of a present problem still unsolved. It was Betty who first broke the silence.

"It is steadily growing darker. Don't you think we had better try to find our way out?"

"Yes," said the Silent Man, "let me think-to try to locate the canoe would be useless, it is quite safe where it is until tomorrow. The road which leads to the old lumber camp is only a short distance east from here. If we keep our bearings and push steadily on through this bit of brushwood, we will reach it in a short time. Come, we will at least try. If you will keep close behind me, I will lead the way and part the bushes."

As they expected, the old lumber camp road was soon reached, and after that they had no difficulty in finding their way, for although the overarching trees cast their shadows along the way, the ground was smooth and

the road led straight to the highway which passed the Birch Croft grove.

While they were forging their way through the brushwood neither had spoken except as they were concerned in each other's safety, and as they passed along the woodland road, the silence was broken only by the sound of their footfalls. But when they at last reached the highway, where the rising moon cast a white light over the dry grasses and the sands, Betty turned to the Silent Man with a plea for an understanding in her eyes. "Tell me tell me about it," she said.

The Silent Man gave a slight start as if suddenly brought back into the present. "Must you know, Girl? Do you really want me to tell you?"

Betty's answer came without the least hesitation. "Yes, tell me in justice, since you have told me the rest." Surely the truth no matter what it might hold could only bring to her a keener pain than this doubt, this dread of an unknown certainty.

Slowly, falteringly the Silent Man told her the story of his early life. He pictured for her the home of his boyhood, with a fond mother and an indulgent father. He told her of his life at college and of the dark-eyed little girl he met in his senior year, and of the care-free love which had grown until it had ended in an early marriage, and then

They had reached the place on the high road, beyond the brown shingled cottage, where the blackberry bushes brow by the road side. One of them had caught in Betty's sleeve and the Silent Man stooped to free her from its thorny hold.

"Go on," said the girl in a calm, low voice, as they resumed their walk, "tell me-all."

It was quite evident, from the man's hesitation, that the story was growing infinitely harder to tell. However, with an effort he continued. "The first two years were happy enough, and a son was born to us. I think it was he who brought the first differences into our lives. We didn't seem to agree

where he was concerned, and after a while there was little else upon which we did agree. A little girl came to us later. I left shortly after that. There was an opening for me in Denver. When I first went out there, I meant to send for her, but I never did. All the warmth had gone out of my love for her."

"Were you long in the West?" asked Betty in even tones.

"Three years by the calendar," answered the Silent Man.

"And you have not been happy?" came the girl's second question.

"Happy?" echoed the man in a voice now grown harsh, "how can a man be happy with a dead thing like that hanging about him?”

"There were the children," ventured Betty.

"The children-They were only infants when I left. I hardly knew them."

During the latter part of their walk, the road lay flooded in light, the moon now sailing high in the eastern sky. The two travelers were again intent upon their own thoughts, but when they turned and entered the grove at Birch Croft, the Silent Man drew Betty nearer and in a voice intense with feeling, he asked her again, "Betty, tell me, Girl, if I came back free, would it be too late?"

For an instant, Betty stood as if hesitating, doubtful; the man beside her grew hopeful, but it was only for a fleeting moment. Her answer came low and clear. "Free! One cannot buy freedom through the pain one gives to others. Go back-go to the children who need you. They need a father's love and protection. You will find happiness there." Betty paused and then went bravely on. "Go back to the little woman you have deserted. She has learned her lesson by this time. If she ever loved you, she loves you now a woman's heart does not forget."

"Betty, if you loved me, you would not tell me this.”

The girl struggled to free herself, but the man's strength held firm.

"It is because I love you that I am trusting in your strength to do right, and if you truly love me, you will go back. A strong love can bridge the petty differences in life. Keep your love strong for her." Again the girl paused. "I shall not ask you to forget me. It would be folly to do that, but whenever you remember — be a little kinder to her, a little more thoughtful. It is only a mean nature which would fail to respond to such an appeal, and hers is not that." "Betty Girl!"

For an instant the girl's head drooped, but it was soon lifted and she looked bravely up into the strong face above her. That last kiss out under the dome of the Birches and the greater dome of the sky was not the breaking of a trust, but rather the sealing of a vow that each one would live in the greater faith which had grown in the hearts of both.

It was with a keen sense of relief that Auntie Fay welcomed Betty, for she had been gone longer than usual; but noting the pallor of her face and the tenseness of her manner, she refrained from asking any questions after Betty explained about the lost trail. Some time or other she knew Betty would tell her, tonight the girl needed rest; so after Betty assured her that she was quite well, she bade her goodnight, and the girl crossed the hall to her own room.

Slowly Betty sank to the floor before the window which overlooked the lake, and pillowing her head upon her arm, she rested her cheek against the cool sill. The first rays of the morning light found her still there, with a longing in her heart which only time could still.

Three days later a messenger was sent across the lake with an order for the steamer Leelanau to stop at the Birch Croft dock, on her downward course, as one of the guests was leaving.

Since the eventful evening when fate had played so important a part in the lives of two people, they had gone on, at least from all outward ap

pearances, very much the same as before. Neither the Silent Man nor Betty had made any effort to avoid the other, although their meetings were always in the presence of Auntie Fay. But on the morning of the third day Betty did not see him, and Auntie Fay who saw that the girl was living under a nervous strain suggested a walk to a neighboring farm house in search of harvest apples. Betty welcomed the invitation and rambled along in her conversation, dwelling only upon light, trivial things. Not until their return did she speak the thought which was uppermost in her mind.

"Auntie Fay," the girl stooped to pick a bunch of wild asters, "when the Silent Man comes to say goodbye, will you please ask him to write to you?"

"And you, child?" Auntie Fay's tones were full of loving solicitude.

"For me, he will always be just the Silent Man," said Betty as she rose and went on down the hill.

In the early afternoon the Silent Man paid his last visit to the little arbor. It was hard for him to bid farewell to the two friends who had come to mean so much to him; but under Auntie Fay's guidance that last hour which they spent together would always be a pleasant one to remember. And he did not see them again, for Auntie Fay and Betty were not among the people who thronged the pier, later in the day, in the excitement of seeing the steamer dock.

For Betty the North had lost its charm, but she was reluctant to leave before Auntie Fay heard from the Silent Man. Just a few days before their departure, the long looked for letter arrived. It told of a pleasant trip to the East, of his meeting with his own people, and of meeting old friends; and then he told of the little woman and the children. He had found them with her parents. The closing words of his letter were:

"We made quite a happy family party. Mrs. Howard had been looking forward to my return for some

time, and it is quite evident that she has been weaving tales about me for the entertainment of the children. They take me quite for granted, and have set me up as rather a hero in their small lives, a delusion which I will at least have to try to live up to, or fall in their high esteem. My stay in the East will be short as I am returning to my work in Denver about the first of October. And this time I am taking my family with me. We are all looking forward to the new life in the West."

And that was all, not one word for Betty. She did not want it; had not expected it. He would not have been strong in the strength she wished him to have if he had failed her. But with the finality came the breaking of the tension, and burying her face in her hands she gave way to broken sobs, "Oh, I am glad; I am so glad."

"Yes," said Auntie Fay as she tried to comfort the girl, "and in the years to come you will find a greater happiness than the one which could have been yours at such a price."

The following evening Birch Croft was giving its annual party, the rooms were decked in festive gaiety, and out in the grove lanterns were hung. All girlhood bloomed in dainty summer frocks; and young manhood came correct, debonair, clothed in light sport suits, their jovial natures leaping in happy anticipation of a pleasant evening spent under the Birches.

Betty was at her best in a rosecolored voile, excitement lending color to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. Without any apparent effort her spirits soared at will to the sound of the drifting music. Her program was well filled before the evening fairly began, and young Thomas Turner wishing to detain her after a dance, tried to lure her out into the night and the moonlight.

"I say, Betty, lets get away from this music for a while." His boyish voice held a note of anxiety. "I say we go down by the lake and talk about something serious. This light stuff tires me."

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The following narrative of merchant marine accomplishment in the past presents a striking contrast of our present lack in this direction. The historic incidents told in this story have a direct bearing on the plan to upbuild a strong merchant marine to safeguard our interest in the future. The Editor.

HE quaint old city of Salem, Mass, has felt more keenly, perhaps, than any other port in the United States the decay of the American shipping industry that prevailed previous to the declaration of war. At that time only ten per cent of our shipping was carried in American bottoms, while in 1810, 91 per cent of American commerce was handled by our own merchant marine.

In 1807 Salem boasted of a fleet of 252 ships engaged in deep sea commerce; the largest fleet owned by any community of its size in the world. By the year 1900 Salem's famous merchant fleet had dwindled to nothing.

The story of the pepper trade is an interesting one. Ever since the year 1509 Portuguese vessels had brought pepper from Sumatra, on their return trips from searching for the fabulous

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