Los Angeles herald., 1892-04-12
LOVERS AGAIN.

stream, man and woman stood look
ing into the pine clad amphitheater of
the cliffs, which lay in stiffness beneath
the spell of a September night. The
black hollow of the bridge, with its one
moonbeam sharp across the floor, con-
trasted with the awful splendor of the
granite gorge, buttressed and pinnacled
in every rising tier, under the flood of
ghostly light, and if the only object of
the couple in coming here was to see the
view they were amply repaid.
From their conversation since they
left the hotel, which now lay behind
them, hidden by fringe of the forest,
it would have been difficult to say that
this was not their only object. The
small talk of acquaintanceship, friend
ship and even love is within certain
limits, and among people habituated to
each others conventions practically in
distinguishable Frequently it is diff
cult to decide why the degrees should
be of so much consequence to the par
ties.
1t was in this case, knowledge of the
world and the good temper of expert
ence that kept Mrs. Hugonin and Ar
thur Kinnaird on perfectly unruffied
terms with each other. The conviction
that he had long ago forgiven her, graft
flying as it once had been, was now of
such long standing that it had become
confused with her earlier and less iusti-
fable conviction that he ultimately
would forgive her.
Thus secure in vindication, the lust
for which the dying Eve bequeathed to
all her sex, Mrs. Hugonin could, with
out the slightest reflection upon her
widowhood, accept once more the COM
panionship of a man who tolerated life
as comfortably as Arthur Kinnaird.
The imminence of the climacteric which
she knew to be threatening him was
not to be read from his figure. His step
was alert, his cheeks were bronzed, his
tastes were rational, and what more
could he desire?
She pushed back her dark hair under
its somewhat youthful cap and, leaning
her elbows on the edge, gazed, without
speaking, at the haunted defile. Kin
naird gave little laughed behind her.
Margaret" he said, "upon my word, it
seems as if we were boy and girl again.
"Why, particularly yY' she asked, with
out turning her head.
'"Oh, all this SUMNER" he replied.
She didn't ask him to be more explicit.
SIT is certainly an ideal place." she said,
with half sigh. "Yet it is foolish to
say that the beauties of nature restore
ones youth. One may feel young again,
but one is not really any the less dispas-
sionate."
81 am not SO sure of that" said Kin
naird. 81 should like to argue the point
with you-if it could be argued"
"You men are all alike" said Mrs.
Hugonin, with an inconsistent shrug of
her shoulder. "You give up to logic
what was meant for conversation"
Kinnaird stroked his mustache thought
fully for moment. "And SO you think
me dispassionate?" he observed.
"You?" said Mrs. Hugonin, turning
with delightful laugh. "Why, Arthur,
there isn't sentiment or a conviction to
whose support society could order you
to contribute"
, eff you mean that" he said slowly,
sit is quite as feared"
"As you feared!"
"You still believe me capable of as
much mistaken self control as l once
was. And" he added calmly, "I don't
wonder"
Though there was no bitterness ap-
parent in his tone, Mrs. Hugonin was
startled. Really, this is unlike you,
Arthur" she said gravely, but yet with
q sense of amusement. "You petulant
with your past2 You provoked with your
recollections? Indeed I have mistaken
you"
He laughed, but gently. .'Come," he
said, "you have no right to be ironical.
Though once let you go, it was because
I thought you wished to be released"
"Upon my word, Arthur" said Mrs.
Hugonin, II did not know you were
serious, or should not have taken this
as a joke"
II am entirely serious"
Really said Mrs. Hugonin, and she
spoke with some irritation. 81 thought
all had been forgotten and forgiven
years ago." Then she drew herself up
proudly. "Can it be that after all this
time you have conceived the childish
whim of forcing me to a-to an apology?'
"No-hardly that"
II am ready to make it," she went on.
"But if l do'-
Kinnaird moved to the window beside
her and laid his hand on her arm. "You
are much mistaken" he said, in the un-
disturbed voice which so provoked her.
t'You must indeed think that am TAX
ing leave of my years. ! never had
much vanity, think, but what l had
when l was younger never made a pet
of. Look over there at the rocks and
what do you seeY'
''Rocks-and moonlight But, Ar
thur
'The rocks make me recollect," he
went on, unheeding, "that one day when
you were about seventeen you and
climbed Lone mountain together. And
when we reached the ravine you insisted
on going first, and let you. Now did
that because reflected that if you fell
could catch YOU"
NWellY'
"You see, that was my first mistake
/ should have gone first and made you
cling to my-pardon me-coat tails"
every likely" said Mrs. Hugonin,
half laughing But can't thinl e ac"s