Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-08-05
but what matter: she will not mind a storm;

UDiStltSS Step OUT lnbD the EtUncI. lie
woman starts when she sees her.
Law sakes, alive, Miss Epnor, but you
do look bad"
ION, no, Mary" striving to smile; Oh, no.
Pm going for a walk. Tell my uncle, psase."
But it's gwine to rain, Miss EPnor, and
you amt had no breakfast"
But i don't want any breakfast; I'm not
hungry, and as for rain, you know, / don't
mind that. Here, to please you, / will drink
this mill. | always loved milk IN tin pals"
She Drinks the milk and turns away The
two great settlers rise slowly from their re-
s~pective mats and follow her gravely, and
the old woman stands quite still watching
the slight girlish figure out of sight.
She turns into the little path that leads up
the hill; the well-known path with the
dropping willow trees and gray, nglng
moss; with the tangled blackberry vines and
thorny bushes; with the endless little
streams and hollow to cross, this steep up
ward path, steep as the path OF life.
She goes on quietly, stopping now and
then to detacli her dress from some wayside
bush, and the dogs sto.D too. and look up at
her with their great, soft eyes as though try
Ing 10 fathom tisl sadness of that usually
happy face. Bsl she never looks at them;
never a word or caress. She Is glad To be
alone; glad to be away from everything and
everyone.
The path grows sleeper and more steep.
She Is gaining the summit now, but size
misses the hands that helped her here last
time. Oh, why think OF 1t nOw? Why can
She not forgetr Surely, years have passed
since yesterday. Only one night? Impossi-
BILE.
She pauses for rest. Why has she come
here alone on this dark, threatening morn
ing? Why has She Gomez She whom they
term the Dolce far niente;;" who Is rarely
out OF bed at eight In the morning, much less
on the hillside with only two dogs for COM
pany.
The path widens now. All, she has
/ reached the top. The cool breeze fans her
hot cheeks as she stands there with her
hands idly locked; stands there close by the
old lichened rock, gazing out over the still
world. And meanwhile the storm ereeps on;
darker and darker the gray sky has grown;
lower and lower hang the clouds, and even a
low rumbling OF thunder can be heard.
Eleanor, Eleanor, you would be better In
the parsonage than on this wild hillside.
And now the peculiar calm which precedes
n storm settles down. Not d leaf S::rs, not q
round breaks the stiffness.
She has seated herself close beside the
TvGk and the dogs lie like great Numidian
lions on either side. Now and then Trico
pushes his nose into her hand, and droops
his ears mournfully when she takes no notice
OF him.
How long she might have sat there, I
can not tell, for she Is deep in her waking.
dreams. Sad dreams they must be you would
fancy to look at her. But now the wind, as
though weary of absence. breaks forth in a
fury, whirli Z all before 1t. The trees bend
anai sway; ay, break under the fury OF the
storm, and through it all the thunder sounds
with crashing din and the lightning flashes
through the sky.
Eleanor has risen TO her feet. She totters
under the force of this whlrlwind, and throws
both arms about u slender, little sapling for
support.
hapin i'm "A Inntnant What will che dn nm
here all alone? She was mad TO come. The
wind dashes on, but brings 10 answer.
But someone Is coming. Through the
wind and binding dust she dimly describes
the figure of a man coming towards her, and
SHE wonder vaguely who II Is.
Nearer and nearer he comes, and when he
is quite close upon her she sees and knows
hinl-Dallas CaTew!
Her aims loosen their hold; she staggers
back.
IL thought you had gone" she says.
lie Is looking IT her eagerly; looking al
her pale cheeks and heavy, dark-ringed
eyes; and looking at her he knows that her
checks are pale for him; her eyes sad and
heavy for him. Yesterday she was a cold,
self-possessed woman who babe him good
bye with not a culver OF the lips or a falteI
In her voice. That was the mask; this Is
the reality.
The wind has ceased a little; the rain Is
falling IN great pattering drops; fallen
quickly as though glad TO come.
What are you doing here%' she asks,
striving for compOsure. this time OF day and
in this storm? Why did you conie?'
why did you come, Eleanor"
IL came for a walk. l was so tired"
she murmurs, SO low that he can just catch
the words.
Il will be more truthful than you. Eleanor.
j came because l saw you 20. / came TO
take care OF You. Take my arm. / will get
you out of this rain as soon as possible"
Il had rather not, Mr.. Carew. ] do not
need your arm" But she stumbles even as
sire speaks.
He takes her hand and places it in his
arm. saying as coldly as she had spoken:
Excuse me. but you do need II, and now
come quickly. l suppose there's no use e
open this umbrella. How l wish for one Of
those nuts that novels always have SO con
~veniently near"
Tue pa .onage is the only thing of thu
kind tfst | have to offer YOU" she said.
She Is regalning her usual control and she
has wonderful self possession, this girl.
They go on quite In silence. Indeed, q
pouring rain. accompanied by thunder ana
lightning, Is not very encouraging for cat
yersatlon. Once she turns and calls to the
dogs who look quite worn out, poor cTea
lures. Through the rain lie looks at her
notes again how pale her face is. how dreary
her eyes are, and is this for him, really?
Suddenly she speaks, You were very con,
fidential yesterday, Mr.. Carew. | think
will return 1t now; at least should like tG
tell YOU"
TELL me what?" he says, wishing devout
" thai the parsonage was nearer. What Ii
ily'
1--WE have been very good friends,w says
the girl, with icy-forced composure. ut is
not much, only | am going To De married. /
am going to marry MI. Alien"
"What!'
lie has dropped her arms. His face is
| 1a,,laax .xhtfae tI.n. anon l.a- .., A.. 49,
eyes there has come u pained, haif-fright.
ened look, and somehow 1t greets In q
measure the dull ache of her heart.
Yes" she says, softly, trying Ia smile and
falling miserably. YES; you seem sur
pfised."
II am" lie nswers briefly. WELL
with a short, hard laugh, II suppose ! must
congratulate you. 1 TO from my heart" he
goes on, while his earnest searching eyes scan
every feature of her face; from my utter.
most heart. hope you will be happy"
She does not answer, she only quickens hel
footsteps a little. After all il is much easier
to 20 down hill than up, and they are nc
great distance from the parsonage now
Limp, draggled as one OF James ~neroines
she looks. And he. well he does not look
much better, but q man can stand a wetting
much better than . woman, for he has nc
skirts to cling stickily about his feet This
sudden flow OF conversation seems TO have
died, and still above them the thunder and
the flashes OF light streak the sky.
A n storm Is at ali times a very awe
inspiring thing, but one is much better out OF
than In II. These being MIR. CaIew's senti-
nents he hurries his By no means unwilling
companion along, and in Il few moments
they gain the friendly shelter Of the parson-
age.
Il suppose | must say goodbye again.
says the young man, latis.lg AT the gate.
His face Is as white us death. What has
caused II? May be he is afraid of thunder.
But surely you will come In until this is
overy' she cries,
mo; leave in half an hour or so. ! must
hurry as it Is"
She does not press him 10 enter. She
stands there In tile ain staring blankly Ut
hiuL
"Fate was determined we should not part
yesterday" he says, with a half smile, 'but
somehow l wish 1 had not seen you this
morning."
She does not answer. The %rain-drops patter
down upon her; the tail hollyhOcks bend
their heads beneath their force.
We'll, l must not keep you here" he
saws: though after all you are as wet as
you can get"
He holds out his hand and she gives him
hers. "GO0d-bye."
lie looses her hand and drops his eyes
from her face and then he turns away. she
watches him as through the binding rain
and storm he goes.
A half hour has passed. Eleanor has
changed her clothes. has caliued DOuie'S