Johnstown weekly Democrat. (Johnstown, Cambria County, Pa.) 1889-1916, 1890-06-27

CLOUD because she loves ana Is loved AT
the same time | saw Saumarez's face as
he heard Maud Copleigh's voice, and
fifty xeaIs away from the clump of
oranga r., | saw brown Holland
habit gc 81 upon horse.
1t mu1. lave been my state of over ex-
citemen5 t.ct made me so quick to med
die with wax. did not concern me. Sau-
marez WIS ino3ing off to the habit; but
pushed hi.a back and said: ''Stop here
and explain. I'll fetch her backr' And
ran out to get at my own horse. had
aperfectly unnecessary notion that every
thing must be done decently and in order,
and that Saumarezs first care was to
wipe the happy look out of Maud Cop
leigh's face. All the time l was linking
up the curb chain l wondered how he
would do it.
cantered after Edith Copleigh, think
ing to bring her back slowly on some pre-
tense or another. But she galloped away
as soon as she saw me, and was forced
to ride after her in earnest. She called
back over her shoulder: $50 away! I'm
going home. Oh, go awayp two or three
times; but my business was to catch her
first and argue later. The ride just fitted
in with the rest of the evil dream. The
ground was very bad, and now and again
we rushed through the whirling, chok-
ing "dust devils" in the skirts of the fly
ing storm. There was burning hot
wind blowing that brought up stencil
of stale brick kilns with it; and through
the half light and through the dust dew
lis, across that desolate plain, fickered
the brown holland habit ON the gray
horse. She headed for the station at
first. Then she wheeled round and set
off for the river through beds Of burnt
down jungle grass, bad even to ride
pig over. In cold blood should never
have dreamed of going over such coun-
try at night, but it seemed quite right
and natural with the lightning cracking
overhead, and reek like the smell Of
the Pit in my nostrils. l rode and shout
ed, and she bent forward and lashed her
horse, and the aftermath of the dust
storm came up and caught us both, and
drove us downwind like pieces of paper
] don't know how far we rode; but the
drumming of the horse hoofs and the
roar of the windand the race of the faint
blood red moon through the yellow mist
seemed to have gone on for years and
years, and was literally drenched with
sweat from my helmet 80 my CATERS
when the gray stumbled, recovered him
self and pulled up dead lame My brute
was used up altogether Edith Copleigh
was in Il sad state, plastered with dust,
her helmet off, and crying bitterly, why
can't you let Inc alone" she said. 81 only
wanted to get away and go home. Oh,
please let me go!'
"You have got to come back with me,
Miss Copleigh. Saumarez has something
to say to you"
Itwas foolish way Of putting it; but
hardly knew Miss Copleigh, and, though
/ was playing Providence at the cost of
my horse, could not tell her in as many
words what Saumarez had told me. /
thought he could do that better himself.
All her pretense about being tired and
wanting to go home broke down, and she
rocked herself to and fro in the saddle as
she sobbed, and the hot wind blew her
| black hair to leeward. | am not going to
repeat what she said, because she was
utterly unstrung.
This, if you please, was the cynical
Miss Copleigh. Here was l, almost an
utter stranger to her. trying to tell her
| that Saumarez loved her and she was to
come back to hear him say so. / believe
| made myself understood, for she gath.
cred the gray together and made him
hobble somehow, and we set off for the
| tomb, while the storm went laundering
down to Umballa and few big drops Of
warm rain fell. l found out that she
had been standing close to Saumare7
when he proposed 70 her sister, and had
wanted to 60 home to cry in peace, as an
English girl should. She dabbed hel
eyes with her pocket handkerchief as
we went along, and babbled to me out
of sheer lightness of heart and hysteria
That was perfectly unnatural; and yet
it seemed all right at the time and in the
| place. All the world was only the two
Copleigh girls, Saumarez and I, ringed in
with the lightning and the dark; and the
| guidance of this misguided world seemed
to lie in my hands.
When we returned to the tomb in the
deep, dead stiffness that followed tbs
storm, the dawn was just breaking and
nobody had gone away. They were
waiting for our return. Saumarez most
of all His face was white and drawn.
AS Miss Copleigh and l limped up he
came forward to meet us, and, when he
helped her down from her saddle, he
kissed her before all the picnic. II
was like a scene in theatre, and the
likeness was heightened by all the dust
white, ghostly looking men and women
under the orange trees, clapping theii
hands-as if they were Watching play
at Saumarez's choice. l never knew
anything so un-English in my life.
Lastly, Saumarez said we must all &c
home or the station would come out tc
look for us, and would be good enough
to ride home with Maud Copleigh? Moth
ing would give me greater pleasure, ]
said.
So, we formed up, six couples in all
and went back two by two; Saumare2
walking at the side of Edith Copleigh,
who was riding his horse.
The air was cleared, and little by lit
| tie, as the sun rose, | felt we were all