The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-01-24
CHAPTER VII.


When, that night, he parted from her
for he had work to do, he said, that
would keep him up very late-he laid
one hand on her shoulder, and with tie
other swept back from her forehead the
soft hair that fell o.er it, and her eyes
dropped before his. The love that spoke
so silently in them seemed to plead to
her for something she had withheld
from him.
She could not meet his look: she could
scarcely bear the grave and lingering
kiss lie pressed on her brow.
lie felt her shrink and tremble in his
her, and his quiet Goodnight, Erica"
sounded cold and measured, and the
face she barely glanced at was set and
stern.
The sun was shining brightly. yet
eau Y the next morning. when Philip
turGsd down the lamp that had been
burning rnheeded for many hours, for
he had moi zone upstairs at all when he
had finished his work, but sometimes
pacing up ana Down the library, some
times for a few moments resting, he
had passed those hours of the early
morning. haunted by a dim foreboding
that all his strong spiritcould not shake
off, trying to think out some cause
other than that direful one he SO feared,
for the change in Erica; but thought
brought no relief and no solution.
He looked at his watch and found it
to be seven o'clock. and then threw
open the window and suffered the misty
air from the sea-yet unWarmed by the
suns rays-to blow in and cool his
throbbing pulses.
And, as he stood there, from afar
came the sound of steady, swift tramps
of a horses hoofs-nearer and nearer
and he wondered in a vague sort of
fashion who this early rider might be,
and where he was going.
The sound came closer and vet closer,
till Philip could see the horse and rider
tearing down the roadway from Ring
ton at . pace which would try the met
tie of any horse, and, with a suddon-
ness that almost sent the creature on
its launches. draw up at his own gates.
The rider flung himself from the sad
die, and pushed open the wicket, and
Philip saw-with a fierce heart-throb in
which seemed gathered all the haunting
fears of the night-that it was Archie
Proctor that was coming over the lawn;
he sprang to meet him, and led him into
the house.
"St. John, [ am the bearer of fearful
news,n Proctor said, when he could
speak. II cannot break it."
what has happened?' l can bear
anything but suspense" said Philip,
quickly, as Proctor paused, turning
aside. Speak out, 1 am on tile rack
"Forgive ms If / am abrupt; there is
no time. St. John, your brother was
found dead late last night in a wood
near Rington."
eered back a pace, catching blindly at
a chair near, his breath coming in la
f4 RoSgn t Il @2lght h Rn1sb e 81 to him m0 foHrs
and then the stern control that was {
I necessity now and a habit of his life as
serted itself.
$50. that is past he said; "tell me al
now. can bear it."
/ And he never moved or spoke Will,
Proctor told him in sorrowful accents
} how, last night at twelve o'clock, !;
groom from a house some miles off
going home from Rington, had fount
3 the body of a young man whom he l,at
seen at the races that day, laying in
quite dead, and there had evidentl,
? been foul play, for there was bloc,
trickling from q wound in the forehead
. but his watch and q few pounds ant
some other little things of trifling valu
we're untouched. He had at once gon
back to Rington and got help, and ha,
the body taken to the Chestnut Hotel
where it lay now.
81 was staying there that night.
4 Proctor said, land saw him brough
: in. and l at once recognized Walter"
He paused q moment to master hi
. emotion. but Philip said, quietly:
Yes, You saw him; go on
t II only stopped to hear the doctor
verdict, and see that the police had a
y tac information We could get, and the.
s came off like mad for you
Thank YOU Philip said, intle sam
. unmoved way.
"Can you throw any 'ioht On IT, 81