Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1894-11-10
CHAPTER XVII.
A VALE ACROSS THE MOOR.

Full Of delight at the unexpected vision, /
ran down the rocks, and soon leapt down
upon the beach, close 10 the spot where
Anita was lying. She uttered a merry cry
In Spanish, which caused her mistress to look
In my direction. Madeline exhibited no sur
prise but after n momentary glance, cont.l-
ued her occupation, that of writing or draw
ing something ON the sand with the point OF
her parasol.
/ walked toward her, and greeted her by
name. She smiled and nodded, but still con
tinued intent upon the sand beneath her. 1
followed the direction Of her eyes, and to my
establishment read my name, thus:
HUGH TRELAwNEy. ST. GURLoTT's.
The hot blood rushed tony cheek; but fed
again almost Immediately, as read close by
the words:
GEORGE kEDRUTH, ESQ.
Both the masters name and my W were
printed large and bold. Close by them,
SNEAKER in size and in running writing, were
the Incomplete letters OH which she was then
busy
MADELINE GR-
But no sooner had she reached the 'r'' than
she glanced up at me, laughed merrily, and
obiiterated 1t all with her little, daintily
booted foot.
What brought you here, Mr.. Trelawney%'
she said. II thought that you would have
been nj church.
81 thought the same Of you'll replied,
smiling.
Then you did not follow U.s."
"Cer >inly not; though had | known. /
might very possibly have done so. But who
could have dreamed Of finding you in this
solitary place, so FAR away from homer
MY true home is far away indeed" she
answered; and raising her hand, she pointed
right ont to sea. "Yonder. Sometime l
wish that, as the Scripture says, I lad wings
like u bird that | might fly back
And | saw that her beautiful eyes were
dim VIZ Ssaarsss.~.... ...s....s.-
friends whom YOU love?'
Neither friends nor relations. When my
dear father died / was left quite solitary.
But l lived so long there, and was 50 happy!
And South America is so beautiful, SO differ
ent from this dreary land!'
watched her nervously.
"Some day, perhaps, you will return"
"Perhaps-I cannot tell" she replied, sad
ly, and turning OH her heel, she walked slow
~ toward the spot where Anita was lying.
~ 81 lbNh0A up sAlh wv bRA 'a'AN
teeth, smiling: the ille broadened as her
mistress spoke to he: .apid!y in Portuguese.
Anita is of my opinion" said Madeline;
''she thinks this English climate detestable,
and she longs for the palms and temples OF
the West. ! suppose | shall have to send
her back. The people think her a wild saw
age because she does not understand their
barbarous dialect, and she will never settle
In England
l had my w suspicion that Madeline was
laughing at me, and that Anlta's smile had
a quite different meaning; but | was too hap
py in the mere presence of my darling to
trouble myself on that head. Merely to stand
by her side. and look into her face, and hear
her musical voice, was JOY sufficient; for
never had she seemed more bright and BEAU
tifu' She wore a rich sealskin cloak, tightly
fitting, and descending to her knees; a pretty
sealskin hat to match; and the parasol she
carried was more for use as q w~aiking-stick
than for a safeguard against the sun. The
sea breeze had brought the color 10 her deli
cate cheek, and her dark eyes were unusual
ly light and happy.
For the time being l forget the social gulf
between us, between her wealth and my
poverty, and talked freely and unrestrained-
ly of many things. The old constraint left
me, | suppose 10 the improvement of my
manners, for Madeline seemed to look at me
and listen to me with unusual interest.
And yous' she said, presently. ''Shall
you remain In this lonely Cornwall all your
lifeg"
The question took me by surprise, and wes
difficult to answer.
"Who can tell?' | said. Il have often
thought OF trying my fortune across the
ocean. but habit has kept me chained 10 a
uull place and q cherries occupation. Some
times, do you know. Miss Graham, | think it
Is all fatality. IL seems SO strange. for ex-
ample, that / should have been brought here
at all, and that. even In SO unlikely a place,
we should have been once more thrown to-
gether."
1T is fortunate for me, at any rate, that
you became a Cornlshman."
How SOP
Because, otherwise, l might not nave sur
vived-to thank you for my life!
Was 1t gratitude, or an even rendered SEN
timent, that filed her eyes with such tender
meaning, and after one long look, made her
blush and turn her head away? l cannot
~... ."s u.r look made my heart leap. while
a new thrill OF raptqrons hope trembled
through my veins. glanced at Anita; she
was basking again, with closed eyes. Car
ried beyond myself by the Inspiration OF the
moment. l took my dariing's hand.
Miss Graham." / said; ''Madeline-may l
call you again by that dear name?-eyer
since we parted. years aga. you have been
the one memory OF my life; and when we
met again-
would have continued impetuously; but
gently d~isengaging her hand, she cried:
Anita come, ii Is time Ia go home"
sprung taAer feet and pointed eagerly up
she rocks. For myself, l stood stupefied and
asnamea; but turning again TO me with o
light smile, Madeline continued:
Are you returning 10 the village, Mr..
Trelawney? Ii 50, let US walk together"
Something In her manner convinced me-
that l had better e~ncroach no further, but
make the best Of my immediate chance of
happiness. So I ans Scicd eagerly that l was
at her service, and the next minute l was
plotting her up the rocks. The way was
troublesome, and sho often needed and nc
copied the help OF my hand, thrilling me
through and through with her warm touch.
Atiast we left the rock-sown promontory
behind W. and stepped ont on the open
heath. Ne two led the way, while Anita
followed behind, 30 slowly that we were soon
~ practically sisnA