"I'll go and drop them in the river," said Trove to himself.
It was eleven o'clock and the street dark and deserted as he left
his room.
"It is a cowardly thing to do," the young man thought as he walked
slowly, but he could devise no better way to get rid of them.
In the middle of the big, open bridge, he stopped to listen.
Hearing only the sound of the falls below, Trove took the odd tools
from under his coat and flung them over the rail.
He turned then, walking slowly off the bridge and up the main
street, of Hillsborough. At a corner he stopped to listen. His
ear had caught the sound of steps far behind him. He could hear it
no longer, and went his way, with a troubled feeling that robbed
him of rest that night. In a day or two it wore off, and soon he
was hold of the bit, as he was wont to say, and racing for the lead
in his work. He often walked to school with Polly and went to
church with her every Sunday night. There had been not a word of
love between them, however, since they came to the village, until
one evening she said:--
"I am very unhappy, and I wish I were home."
"Why?"
She was not able to answer for a moment.
"I know I am unworthy of you," she whispered.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245