Lewiston teller. [volume] (Lewiston, North Idaho) 1878-1900, 1891-09-17
DARK DAYS.
BY HUGH CONWAY.
CHAPTER III. -CONTINUED


promised? Could it be she was detained
against her will? In spite Of her uninter-
ested manner, dstrusted the woman had
seen last night. 1t is now past seven o'clock.
| Philippa's house, from which had reckon
! ed my time, was nearly three miles away. l
must give up my scheme of vengeance. l
| must go in search OF Philippe. II l do not
meet her | must call at Mrs. Wilson's, find
| out what detains her, and if needful bear
her away by force.
BY this time my steps had brought me
back to my own house. l called William,
and told him l was going to walk up the
road and meet my expected guest If by
| any chance should miss her, lie was to
welcome her on my behalf, and tell her the
reason for my absence.
Best take n lantern, sir" said William;
'moonll be hidden, and them roads is pre-
| cous rough"
y can't be bothered with that great horn
affair."" said, rather testify.
Take the little one-the bulls cye--that's
| better than nothing" said William. To
humor him put it into my pocket.
ran at the top of my speed to the house
| at which had last night left Philippe. 1t
took me nearly half an hour getting there.
l rang the bell impetuously. The door was
| Mrs. Farmer, knowing that Philippe had
passed under this name to all except her
| hostess. TO my surprise l was told that she
had left the house. on foot and alone, some
little while ago. The maid believed she was
not going to return, as her luggage had that
| morning been sent for.
The first effect of this intelligence was to
cause me to blame my haste. | must have
missed her; no doubt passed her on the road.
| No; such thing was impossible. The way
WIS a narrow one. The moon still gave
| some light If | had met Philippa, must
have seen her. She must have seen me, and
would then have stopped me. She could not
| have gone the way came.
| AS turned from the house | became
aware that great and sudden change had
come over the night. 1t seemed to me that,
even In the few minutes which had spent
| in considering what to do, the heavy clouds
had banked and massed together. 1t was
all but pitch-dark; so dark that l paused
| and drawing from my pocket the lantern
with which williams foresight had provid-
cd me, managed after several trials to light
1t. Then, impatient at the delay, sped up
| the road.
| was now almost facing the wind. All at
once, sharp and quick, felt the binding
| snow on my face. The wind moaned through
| the leafiess branches on either side of the
| road. The snow-flakes whrled madly here
and there. Even In my excitement was
able to realize the fact that never before had
| l seen In England so fierce a snOw-storm, or
! one which came OH so suddenly. And, like
myself, Philippe was abroad, and exposed
| to Its full fury. Heavens! she might lose
her way, and wander about all night.
This fear quickened my steps. l forced
/ my way on through the mad storm. For the
| time all thought of Sir Mervyn Ferrand and
vengeance left my heart. All now wanted
was to find Phlippa; to lead her home, and
see her safe beneath my roof. Surely" l
| said, as battled along, "she cannot have
gone much further"
kept sharp look-out-if, indeed, it can
be called a lookout; for the whirling snow
made everything, save what was within
| few feet OF me- invisible. l strained my
ears to catch the faintest cry or other sound.
, went OH, flashing my lantern first on one
' and then on the other side of the roai My
dread was that Philippa, utterly unable to
fight against the white tempest, might be
crouching under one of the banks and II so
might pass without seeing her or even at
tracing her attention. My doing so on such
night as this might mean her death.
Oh, why had she not come as promised?
| Why had she gone to meet the man who
had so fOully wronged her? After what had
happened, she could not dared not love him.
And for dreary comfort recalled the ut
| ter bitterness Of her accent last night when
she turned to me and said, Basil, did you
ever hate man?' No, she could not love
him!
halted, irresolute, in the center of the
road. lnstinctively | beat my hands to-
| gether to promote circulation. | had left
my home hurredly, and had IN AIDE no pro-
, vision for the undergoing of such an ordeal
as this terrible, unprecedented snow-storm
inflicted. In spite of the speed at which l
had travelled, my hands and feet were grow
ing numbed, my face smarted with the cold.
Heaven help me to decide Alright, whether
to 90 on or turn back.
! The decision was not left to me. Sudden
ly, close at hand, l heard wild peal, a
scream OF laughter which made my blood
run cold. Swift from the whirling, tossing,
drifting snow emerged a tall gray figure 1t
swept past me like the wind; but as it pass
ed me l knew that my quest was ended
that Philippe WAS found!
| She vanished in second, before the ter
ror which rooted me to the spot had passed
away Then turned and, fast as could
| run, followed her, crying as | went, 'PAilip-
pa! Philippa"
| / soon overlook her; but so dark was the
night that was almost touching her before
| saw her shadowy, ghost-ike form. l
threw my arms round her and held her. She
struggled violently in my grasp.
| ''Philippa, dearest! it is |, L tsil,"I said,
bending close to her ear.
The sound of my voice seemed to calm
her, or should rather say she ceased to
struggle.
| THANK Heaven, have found you" l
said Let us get back as soon as possible"
| Back. No! Go on, go on!' she exclaim.
ed. 'On, on, on, up the road yet awhile
on through the storm, through the snow-on
till you see what have left behind me! On
till you see the wages of sin--the wages of
sin!'
Her words came like bullets from mitra,-
leuse. Through the night could ses her
face cleaning whittier than the snow on her
hood. l could see her great, iixed dark
| eyes full of nameless horror.
Dearest, be calm" said, and strove to
take her hands in mine.
| AS fried yoO nOSspSSiOO of her right