Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1893-10-13
THE VOICEOF AN ECHO

S"S "inuo" VI bue OLD wooden
bridge, whose hooded tunnel threw a dsrk
bar ACROSS the moonlit mountain stream. =
man ard woman stood locking into the
pine clad amphitheatcr Of the cliffs which
lay In stiffness beneath the spell OF Sen
TENDER night. The black hollow of the
bridge, with its one moonbeam sharu
across the floor, contrasted with the awful
spiendor OF the granite gorge, buttressed
and pinnacled in every rising tier, under
the Hood Of ghostly light, and II the outy
object OF the couple In coming here was TO
zee the view, they were amply rcpaid.
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 acauaint-
anceship. friendship and even love is with
in certain limits, and among people habitu-
ated to each others conventions, practi.
cally indistinguishable. Frequently it il
difficult to decide why the degrees should
be Of 80 much consequence to the parties.
1t was in this case knowledge OF the
world and the good temper of experience
that kept Mrs. Hugonin and Arthur Kin
naird on perfectly unruffied terms with
each other. The conviction that he had
long ago forgiven her. gratifying as it once
had been, was now Of such long standing
that 1t had become confused with her
earlier and less justifabIe 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 without the slightest
reflection upon her widowhood accept once
more the companionship Of a man who
Tod To- ~.
Kinnaird. The imminence OF the climac
teric which she knew to be threatening
him was not to be read from his figure
His step was alert, his cheeks were brorrzed.
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 ledge, gazed without speak
ing at the haunted defile. Kinnaird gave
little laugh behind her. Margaret. - he
said. upon my word, it seems as If we
were boy and girl again"
why, particularly" she asked, without
turning her head
"Oh, all this summer" he replied She
did not ask him to be more explicit. 1T
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 dispassionate.
Il am not SO sure of that" said Kin
naird- Il 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 dispassionateT he observed.
Your said Mrs. Hugonin, turning with
delightful laugh why. Arthur there
isn't sentiment or a conviction to whose
support society could order you to con-
tributer'
III you mean that" he said, slowly. lit
is quite as feared"
AS you fearedS"
you still believe me capable of as much
mistaken self control as once was And,n
he added calmly, 81 don't wonder"
Though there was no bitterness appar-
ent in his tone, Mrs. Hugonin was startled.
Really, this is unlike you, Arthur" she
said gravely, but yet with sense of
amusement You petulant with your
past' You provoked with your recollec
tons? Indeed, have mistaken YOU
LAG ihuShNtAr AOulc, ne
said, you have no right to be irunical.
Though once let you go, it was because I
thought you wished to be released"
Upon my word, Arthur" said Mrs. HUI
gonin, Il 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. Il 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 within Of forcing me
to a-to an apology'"
'No-harIily that"
Il am ready to make it," she went on.
But if do"-
Kinnaird moved to the window beside
her and laid hand on her arm. You are
much mistaken" he said, in the undis-
turbed voice which so provoked her You
must indeed think that am taking leave
of my years. | never had much vanity,
think, but what had when was younger
never made pet Of Look over there at
the rocks, and what do you see!"
"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 be
cause reflected that if you fell could
catch you"
'Well?"
''You see, that was my first mistake. |
should have gone first and made you cling
to my-par,ion me-coat tails
Very likely" said Mrs. Hugonin, hall
laughing. But can't think it does lis
any good to talk it over now"
after that" said Kinnaird, pursuing
his subject, II acted consistently on the
same mistaken theory. And when it came
to the question of giving you up thought
always Of You first. That was why gave
you up-which you naturally considered
weakness"
1t did not escape Mrs. Hugonin that a
dormant weakness of her own was reviving
under the continued stress of this absurd
conversational weakness for sentiment
But it was checked by her vexation with
her friend for breaking their tacit under
standing-and by the feeling of half con-
temptuous pity that stole over her as he
spoke.
Were she a man, she thought, she would
never confess at forty to the Incompetence
of twenty-five. That kinnaird did so. but
absolved her again. Also. she reflected.
she had had headache yesterday, and
therefore it was very lucky this converse
ion had not been started yesterday, or she
would have been much more provoked
than she was now.
Il shall not stop you" she said in a half
,l,s tNnn hsa