The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1889-06-08
Her Rivals Valentine.
CHAPTER 1.
A wOMAN's MASK.


pie graceful figure at full length, allowed
the anger of her heart thus to find vent in
words.
She was dressed for dinner, but with Q
sudden furious movement her white hands
had dsarranged her dark hair, and with the
coils loOsened, it hung in masses about her
face. Her eyes, lurid with the light of fury,
flashed upon her own image in the glass,
and the picture she presented was that of
fierce resentful wOman--a picture new and
startling even to herself.
Il could play the part of an avenging god
dess, she said, as she turned away with a
-orced laugh Il wonder what the gentle
Ruth would have thought had she seen her
loving cousin doing the tragedy business. 1t
was foolish and weak even with myself for
the only spectator"
She walked to smaller glass upon the
dressing-table, and swiftly and skiilfullyre-
arranged her hair.
There she said, II don't think that
Chloe will suspect that her work has been
interfered with. a simple maid with sim
pie mistress, who graciously allows me to
share her services. Oh, how hate these
simple people, and this life at GOrdonfells.
What is there in itg'
For moment it seemed as If anger would
again master her, but she calmed herself
with an effort, and sat down.
Steady, Vida-be steadyV' she murmur-
ed. you must not allow your emotions to
play pranks with you. Your lot is to suffer,
and, to use the cant phrase, you must be
strong. Now, let me discipline myself"
She drew letter from her breast opened
and smoothed it out, and laid it on the table
before her.
'There it is. His loving epistle to Ruth.
have stolen it, and the poor little goose
wonders where she has lost it. Darling,
reading the letter, I VIII be with you on the
eve of st. Valentine. Imust just look in at
Briarwood, but will be with you in time
for dinner. Oh, my dear little Ruth, how
long 1t seemsp"
Vida sprang up and crushed the letter in
her hand.
Il cannot read it, she moaned, ''it sets
MY soul on fire. Oh, that he had written
thus to me, for love him-I love him-I
love himr'
She clasped her hands together passion
"
ments in silence. Then her passion broke
forth again.
what is Ruth's love to mine?" she asked.
"a tiny rivulet, while mine is the mountain
torrent. Where can his eyes be2 Is Basil
Brandreth blind and deaf when he is near
me, that he should have passed me by for
her?"
Again her jealous fury was mastering her,
and the dangerous light flashing in her eyes,
but o check came.
Somebody tapped lightly at the door.
"Who is there?' Vida asked in a tone so
soft that one previously listening would
have thought it was the voice of another be-
ing.
ut is Ruth. May / come in?"
"0f course you may, Birdie"
Softly and musically the leave to enter
fell from her lips and the door opening ad-
mitted a g0iden-haired beauty of nineteen,
her soft dress rustling as she came.
Though so unlike in feature, there was
something between the pair that told of
kindred blood
They were cousins, indeed, and bore the
same name-that of the Moores of Gordon
fells.
But Ruth was the daughter of Abel Moore
living, and Vida the daughter of Reginald
Moore, dead these eighteen years.
Fatherless and motherless, the latter had
been brought to the family seat at an early
age and it had been her home.
The Moores were an amiable family.
Abel Moore was loving husband and
father, q generous landlord, and thorough
gentleman, Mrs. Moore kind almost to weak
ness, and Ruth favored with much of her
mothers disposition.
Vida was also supposed 10 be Moore, for
the passionate nature that surged within
her size had successfully concealed, even ia
her girlhood
Here aga:n was nature Inherited from a
mother for Reginald Moore married wo.
man of Spanish birth, woman of unbridled
passion, fiery daughter of sunny Spain.
They were united abroad and after brief
put stormy life together, she died in giving
birth to Vida.
Neither Abel nor Mrs. Moore ever saw
her.
This much in needful introduction, and
now we will return to the society of the
cousins, allied in blood, but widely apart in
nature.
What makes my little Birdie so pale?'
asked Vida, taking Ruth's face between her
hands with gentle womanly tenderness
that assuredly was not all assumed.
"BasiPs letter-I cannot find it." replied
Ruth. 1T is too stupid of me to lose it,
You may find it by-and-by," said Vida
calmly. What matters about the letter, so
long as Basil himself is coming? To-mor-
row night, l think?"
Tomorrow" said Ruth with dreamy
eyes, "and he has been away whole year
so long! But he is not going again."
You could not bear it, Birde@'
Il think it would break my heart"
Hearts" said Vida with a smile, ''are
not so easily broken.''
You do not know, dearest" replied
Ruth, "fOr you have never been in love"
No. never in love" calmly echoed Vida;
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