The Penn's Grove record., 1888-09-29

lOrTlDle SWORD StdDpluk HIS NeiJ IA
He tried to keep away from her
home, but he could not; and two hours
later, when the twilight had deepened
into night, he went up the narrow foot
way and opened the doOr slowly, with
some misgiving in his heart.
Lucia has not come in yet," said
Mrs. Earle, in reply to ROnald's in
auiry for her. 'fShe said Mr.. D'Orsay
had asked her to come up to the hotel
to see a large painting of his, after
school, and ] suppose that she has
gone. She'll soon be back, though"
Edgar sat down and took up a book,
but he could not read. Then lie rs
tened with apparent calmness to the
praises Mrs. Earle lavished upon the
artist. Thus two hours went by, and
both began to look for the return OF
Lucia. Every minute added a fiercer
heat to the fame burning in Edgar's
veins. Let him see her obce more and
he would restore her promlse-he could
not hold her by such an empty form OF
words.
At precisely nine O'Clock Mr.. Earle
came in, and, as usual If Lucia was not
visible, as he pulled off his boots. he
asked:
"Where's sis? Time she was back,
high tlmel" he muttered, when he was
told. "Hadn't you better go over and
fetch her, Ronaldp" he asked, looking
at the young man, who sat on the
other side of the fire, shading his eyes
with has hand.
Hell accompany her, of course"
was the reply, i'll a low, quiet voice.
In an hour or more Mrs. Earle began
to fidget about the room-to go to the
door and lock out. and peep restlessly
behind the curtains into the moon
lighted night beyond.
ats a shamel' she said at last.
"Mr. D'Orsay don't know what pro-
prietry is in the country"
"Lucia knows, anyway" remarked
the father. "But Pm too tired to sit
up; most ~'leven." And the farmer
stupidity disappeared into his bed
room.
81 shant go to bed until she comes"
Mrs. Earle said, growing more wide
awake every minute. her thin, nervous
face becoming paler and more alive.
AS for Edgar, he sat in utter silence,
a powerful dislike upon him toward
going over to the hotel and bringing
the gil. home. She raj acting of her
own . ee Will, he would not appear and
force her to walk back with him. Let
her go her own way. But he did wish
she would not set gossIps of the village
talking. He had received plying or
suspicious looks already.
The night wore on. The clock on
the church tower rang out one, and
with that sound the mother brought
her shawl and said:
"She must have fallen on the road
her ankle is not strong-and we have
let her stay there all this time"
Edgar buttoned his coat, thinking to
himself ''she would not be alone. "
But he -5uld not bear this waiting any
longer.
The two walked hurriedly alONr
toward the hotel, which Vas nearly
three-quarters of a mile distant. They
did not say a word; the mother looked
along the muddy road, as if expecting
to find her daughter i'll those black pud-
dies that cleaned so in the moonlight,
for a full moon rode calmly in the
heavens.
The hotel was dark: no light 81 )ne
IN any window. Mrs. Earle adva,. ced
to knock, when Edgar took hold of her
arm, saying h0arsely:
What are you going to tell themr"
81 shall ask if my daughter is here,
of course" she replied.
"with whom2 What will they
Think" he asked, with white lips,
The mother started back, exclaiming:
'My God. Do you mean to say"
"That whatever the cause Of this,
the aecursed fools will talkl" Edgar
said in that concentrated voice that
means so much.
"But l must ask for her, she said.
ply.
After much knocking, the landlord
put his head out of the window and
exclaimed:
''Bless my soulI It's Mrs. Earle.
"Wrat time in the evening did Lucia
leave here?" asked Mrs. Earle.
The man replied with the utmost
surprise:
'.She hasn't been here at all. l saw
her walking across the fields with MI.
D'Orsay : is afternoon, but he left on
the half-past five train. He's gone for
good"
The two would not stay to answer
any questions that were flung down at
them, but turned away and walked
rapidly homeward. The woman's face
wore "a scared look-a look that showed
that all her thoughts and hopes had
been betrayed, made false in a way she
could not understand.
But Edgar's face sh owed no such
appearance. The high and frank cour-
age always evident there was changed
to some logged and relentless resolve.
There was a dagger like CLEAN in his
eyes, and his pale lips shut with a firm
hess never to be relaxed or softened.
The two did not speak until they
reached the farmhouse door; then
Edgar said:
"There's no train until six O'Clock in
the morning, forgetting that morning
wa near at hand. II shall 60 down
to New York on that"
"Let me see you before you go," she
said.
He bowed assent and walked away.
In the dull gray Of the morning,
Edgar stood with Mrs. Earle. The
latter held in her hand a note, which
she gave to the young man, saying in a
whisper:
'She left 1t in the hymn-book, for
she knew | always read "A hymn in the
morning, but never at night"
The note was short enough. BY the
yellow candle light, Edgar stopped to
read it,:
my heart, my soul, are not my
own. He has taken me to an enchanted
land, and l know nothing but my love
for him. q my mother, forgive mel
There is another whom | cannot ask to
forgive me; but even he would not
wonder, did he but know the power
with which / love-the attraction OF
him / love. Though you cast me of,
and l am unworthy, | am always your
loving daughter"
Edgar handed the letter back, say.
ing:
II shall find him."
He turned abruptly away; he could