The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1881-10-19

and the count drew about her the
,wans down wrap that Sir. Rivers
had held, and they went out on the
piazza. and she passed within yard
of him, without dreaming Of the
eager, pallid face, without seeing
him, without seeing the quick move
ment, the half outstretched hand,
as unconcerned, lifting the spotless
lace of her train, as if he were a
waiter standing there, and passing
on into the moonlight. in the snowy
flutter of her drapery and the soft
white down OF her mantle, vision
of maidenly grace, almost too lovely
to be real. No sleep visited his pill
low that night; the vision hung be-
fore his eyes; he heard as one hears
a bell in his ears, the warm, rich
tones, the low, sweet laugh, in which
she seemed 10 be rehearsing the
scenes of u life with which he had
nothing to do-scenes of a summer
in France ut the old chateau Of the
Beaureparies, famous in song and
story.
He was haggard as he looked at
himself in the glass next day, but
he could endure to wait no furth-
er; perhaps his very haggardness
would fight on his side, for he began
to see himself not altogether as a
conquering hero. As soon as he
dared he sent his card to Mrs. Riy-
er's parlor, and having tipped the
servant, followed HIN boldly up.
Maurice? Maurice?' he heard
Mrs. Francis Rivers say, holding his
card, the door ajar. 'Put down
your book, Kate. Do you known
anybody of the name = Vincent
Maurice2"
Vincent Maurice? Oh, yes" came
the musical tones again. Il used to
know him very well. We were
great friends once. To tell you the
truth, Mary, l used to think he
was the one man in the world. Why
do you ask ?"
Don't you hear ? This is his
card. viii you see him. You are
so absorbed in that Daudet-"
"That the servants rap didn't
penetrate the atmosphere / was liv-
ing in. Unhealthy stuff =; mustn't
read any more of them. See him ?
Well, no, l think not. The horses
will be at the door in half an hour,
and i would like to finish this chap
| ter"
He did not stay 10 hear any more.
He stood leaning against a pillar
some hours after, on the return Of
the riders, he saw her sitting ON her
horse like Di Vernon; saw her COM
panion bending over her one mo-
ment too long as he lifted her from
the saddle, while the grooms held
the horses saw the quick color
come to her cheek with a deeper
darnask as he did so and then she
had swept by, and he heard this
and that: excited comment-what
dazzling beauty what combination
of gracious ease and proud reservel
what strange union of the sweetest
maidenliness with the savoir-faire of
a woman of a world He turned
away his haggard face, his tortur-
ed heart, were nothing to this wo-
man of the world. Yet he meant to
see her he meant to force the past
upon her, to stir the ashes, to wake
spark from the ashes but the
next morning the party had gone.
His step-mother wrote him a
month further on: "Such fine do
ings as there are at the old manor
house here Kate Rivers has return
ed with gay company to bid it
goodbye, and she has been giving
the children such festals All, Vim
cent, why didn't you follow up
your fancy that summer ? Anything
more exquisite than she in beauty
and in manner l have failed to see.
Che has the air of princess just be-
fore her coronation. And so she is.
For they have found coal on the old
manor place, and operations are to
be begun at once They say the in
come will be enormous. She will
will not need it with all the rest she
has; still, it will do her no harm in
France to have revenues of her own.
She is little sad though, to let the
old place go for all. But the Cha
teau Beaurepaire is infinitely more
beautiful, she says {; hundreds Of
years old, and historic !; ON an Is
land in lake, with wooded hills in
closing it beyond the gardens and
deep glades and forests"
He did not understand the letter.
Why was his mother writing to him
about the Chateau Beaurepaire.
That was the scattering way in
which she always ran on. And
what did he care for the revenue of
coal lands? 1t was not money he
wanted no one could say that. All
he gathered from the letter was that
Kate was going to France again. Ii
she did he would follow her. And
he cursed the broken ankle that was
now keeping him prisoner where he
was. He had written to her, twice
and thrice, but he had not sent the
letters those that had come back
unopened once seemed to bar the
way. And then he felt as if his
presence, his eyes, his voice, his
words, were more effective than any
silent writings. He did not answer
his step-mother's note, and her cor
respondence was always at long in
/ tervals.
Some business, however sent him
to Washington in the very early win
ter, although before he felt hardly
able to be out. And as most doors
were opened before him, he found
himself one night at a reception at
the British minister's. Such things
were old stories to him he did not
know why he had come because
others did, he supposed-because
Godfrey wanted to be taken /; and
he was leaning hstlessly against
pedestal under n bronze bust of Ne
mesis. when a party lifted the
curtain, coming in from an adjoin-
ing room, and he started, for it was
Kate Rivers.
If she had stepped out from the
oates of sunrise she might have