Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-11-24

but could only see the back of the
speakers head, the exquisite Greek
contour of which, with its coal-black
wavy tresses drawn back, twisted into
q classic knot and held in place by q
gold comb, attracted my attention
strongly, and at once began to study
her movements. She had reached that
age so difficult to guess in q woman-it
may be twenty-fOur or even twenty-six
when she's too old to make one of q
parcel of maids who laugh alone"
! and too young to say I'VE women"
She was conversing with an oldish man
whom I happened to know, Sinclair
Watts, danditied litterateur, who had
been great beau in his day, but whose
extreme readiness to recite his own
poems made him trife tiresome.
AS the dark-haired girl looked up at
Watts, l had a good chance to soc her
face, and 1t seemed to me had never
seen any thing so beautiful, It was Of
purest pyrifOrm, and the eyes were
large and round and shaded with such
lashes as might have lain on Helen's
cheeks. AS l stood with my eyes riv-
eted upon the face of this daughter of
the night l saw that it was slightly
married Oy fullness of the lips, which
impaired such an intensity OF express
sion to her mouth that 1t made her
eyes seem strangely cold and express
sionless, one-half of her face being, so
to speak, out of touch with the other.
The entry OF more guests obliged me
to step aside to make room for them,
and this brought mo almost directly
behind Watts and this estray from
Hellas. She was eating an ice. Watts
had been reciting one Of his poems to
her.
Il cannot agree with you," she re-
piled, perfect love knows no fear, no
dread; it never questions nor suspects;
its faith is all-abiding; it exercises no
constraint; it lays no bonds. Is the
rose petulant when the sunshine fails?
All, no.. it feeds upon its own perfume
| and waits.
These words thrilled me to the soul.
In the wild flights Of my poetic fancy l
had sometimes dreamed OF the bliss ut
| finding Beatrice as Dante had done,
of being loved as Browning had been,
OF being mated to a woman, who, Nike
Juliet, could not only feel passion,
but describe it. l had found her at
| last, and as she now seemed to be pre-
pairing to leave her seat, heard my
self whispering: "Oh, don't go. Don't
go!"
The fact is, sort AZ frenzy had come
upon me. I needed someone to look
after me, and luckily my friend joined
me at that moment.
"Take care, Adrian" he laughed,
IAN engaged man has no business maxi
ing eyes at such pretty girl"
That word engaged" struck me like
hammer.
"Who is she? Who is she?" gasped,
Strengthening up after the blow.
Miss Lisbeth Brewie," he replied.
81 believe she is in some way related
to the hostess. She's an Eastern girl;
but come, I promised Vera to bring you
home early"
''Vera?" 1 repeated, and then tre-
NOR shot through my frame. 1 tried
to protest, but l had no brea th in my
body. My chest seemed clamped with
steel, and slipping his arm through
mine, my friend led me out Of the
house.
| CHAPTER II.
Upon reaching home l opened the
door as carefully as could, but Vera
heard the click of my latch-key and
called out to me. l pleaded head
ache, and dashed up to my room. I
shuddered as caught glimpse of my
face in the mirror. l looked as pale as
if had been stricken with some sud-
den illness. This pallor, however,
soon gave place to a feverish glow. My
blood coursed unanimously through
j my veins and felt for the first time in
my life the power of fate. l believe l
would have murdered any person who
would have dared to say to me at that
moment that 1 must marry Vera Bart
lett. And then, as l quieted down a
little, it occurred to me how in duty
bounden l was to spare Vera all I
could; respect for my fathers memory,
affection for my aunt-yes, my affec-
ton for Vera herself, commanded me
to conceal this passion for the present,
to break away gradually from Vera, on
other grounds If possible, in word, to
do my very utmost to spare the dear
girl every possible ,pang, for l knew
only too well how dearly and how ten
derly she loved me.
But what was this thread of silver
through a green meadow when COM
pared to a glorious mountain torrent
leaping in wild and picturesque beauty
from rock to rock, pouring its molten
silver into black pools, shimmering
over beads of polished pebbles and
emerging at last upon the plain with
strong and steady flow, its broad bosom
smooth as polished glass? Have the
dead the ri ght to lay bonds upon the
living? Is it sin for man to outgrow
the sweetheart of his boyhood?
l had been invited to call at the
house whore had seen Miss Brewie.
To do so the very next day, or even the
day after that, would seem too pointed
hence, hard task as it was for me,
resolved to wait still another day
slipped out of the house like culprit
Every face that confronted me seemed
to be Vera's, every voice sounded like
hers. felt my cheeks burn as if
stood before the bar charged with the
meanest of crimes.
Luckily the lady was at home and
her friendly and graceful manner
served to make me feel q little more
like myself. In the midst of our con
versation the parlor door was suddenly
pushed open and Miss Brewie made hel
appearance. She wore a yellow gown