Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1892-03-04
SIDNEY Lorraine.
Or, Tho Counts Burden.
CHAPTER II. CONTINUED.

Inc liSnC Smile Dau uleu away CnaC
had been visible when she first spoke,
and she was quite grave as she accom-
panied him i'll silence fora few minutes.
anxiety: What q n-worshiper you
are" she said. "You are never happy
unless he is shining down upon you.
Do YOU feel the cold very much%
Very much. l only live in the sum-
mer."
You are not strong" she said, more
as If stating fact than asking ques-
ton.
Il am much stronger than I was" no
answered, evasively.
She looked up at him qui ky. as If to
read the truth Of his words in his face.
But she did not speak. Neither did he,
though he did not turn his eyes away,
but let them rest OH hers.
She hesitated second, then gave
quick little sigh. But, 1T is pity for
man not to be strong" was all She
said.
1T makes their lives more difficult"
he answered.
They were standing now on the broad
terrace, up and down which peacocks
were Haunting, apparently well pleased
with the attention they were exciting,
Sydney in her white dress and large
shady hat, her grave eyes looking steadi-
ly over tho meadows beneath, far away
to where shone tho riverin the sunlight.
Not once did she lift theIV TO the man
standing beside her, with mir, uncover
ed head, his eyes following the direction
of hers.
At last: "Let us 60 down." he said.
Down to the river. mean. We shall
not be able to do it very much oftcner."
"And why?" she interrupted, lifting
her eyes swiftly.
"Oh, the weather will change-or I
shall be gone. Everything comes to al
end"
Everything comes to the end" she re-
peated softly. rs that SO, | wonder?
1t is rather a hard world, is itnot, when
one comes to think that that is the text
of It'll"
He did not answer.
% Down by the river tho glory Of tho
sunset was beginning to fade, and a
faint gray shadow seemed to haunt tho
river. The only sign Of life was tall,
black-robed woman's figure across the
water, vending her homeward way ever
the fields-dark and distinct against the
sky; and a smaller dark figure of child,
that ran about hither and thither search
ing for flowers, needless of it, mother.
at is sad Sydney said. Somehow,
the moment OF sunset is always q little
suggestive OF death-laneliness
ness. One feels something has been
taken cut Of cur life"
"Mademoiselle."
1t was no answer to her words, no
common. on them that was coming.
The tones were little excited-a GER
tain thrill in them which seemed to
presage the coming Of something
special.
Sydney turned her head with GER
tain consciousness OF the unusualnesS
Of his voice, and almost instnctively
took step away from him, shaking off
her dreaminess as she did so. But as
she so moved, before his next word
reached her, there rang through the still
summer evening air q shrill, terrified
scream, that, before it had time to die
away, was caught up and echoed in
woman's agonized tones, and then: 1T
is the child Sydney cried. "Oh, see.s
pointing to where a small dark head
showed on the smooth current. Then
she was aware, in misty, uncertain
fashion-for eyes and brain for the mo-
ment alike seemed clouded-that the
man beside her had moved forward to
the edge of the steep bank that formed
the border of the river, and that she
was it indeed shep-with hands tight
clasped about his arm, was imploring
him to stay. Was it her own voice?
Not you. Oh, do not go!"
She felt the hold of her hands loosen
ed. 1t seemed to her she felt also "a
light kiss upon them ere they were re-
leased, and then they were hanging
down by her side, and she was staining
Of ioht ond toH ar tho haylr he o,,,,
shining broadly down, and she realized,
all in moment, that she, in her white
gown, and that other black -robed figure
opposite, were both alike standing, one
OF either side of tho river, waiting and
praying for the life that was dearest to
them on earth.
But though she felt it she did not
move, did not even clasp her hands,
could not even think. Past and to come,
even the present seemed vague and UNI
defined compared with the golden sun
light that was writing her love in letters
Of fire across the evening sky and green
meadows, even in faint reflective fash
ion. on the surface of the flowing river.
He was across now-the little dark
headed child was safe in its mother
arms; the blonde-haired man was hold
ing the mothers hand, and listening
doubtless 10 the wOruS that her love
and gratitude prompted.
And now through the sunlight, lit
tie flame of gold all about him, he had
turned quickly away toward the bridge,
that half a mile off formed the connect
ing link between Hayes and the village
OF Morland.
And as he thus turned away, thought
and the power of movement seemed to
return to her.
Her first instinct was to try and real
lie what she had said and done in these
last few moments; her second, to hasten
toward her home and the protecting
presence that there awaited her. There
was something calming in tho thought
of tie kind old man to whom her advent
was never unwelcome.
So, obeying it after that moments
hesitation, sho turned homeward, step
ping lightly over tho short meadow
grass. The sun had now very nearly
rot, and the low-lying fields were grow
ing gray and m isty, the reds and yellows
slowly fading from the sky, and their
fainter reflection from the broad river
beneath.
She did rot stop until she stood by
Mr.. Loraine's side; then, having told
him the story, and hidden him 60 and
meet Count Lindenheim, she went on
to her own room. Only there, in that
haven Of safety, did she feel able to
think, though even in that secure re-
treat consecutive thought was difficult.