The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1895-07-27

casional flashes Of lightning followed
by low. believing peals Of thunder
that rolled with great hollow echoes
across the heavens The rain fell on
the matched roof above him with a
muffied, pattering sound, and he rested
there lost in reverie, dreaming of her
who awaited him In a distant city-his
promised wife.
After awhile Chonita came to the
door and told him that his supper was
ready. Dreamily he heard her voice
and raised his head. She stood with
her dark hair falling in disordered
mass over her shoulders, one bare arm
half raised and resting on the door
sill, her body partly turned, showing
the beautiful lines of her figure as she
hesitated, as though fascinated by his
look, and gazed into his eyes as little
child might, and yet not, for there was
to her strange attraction about this
Americana, this man of the Saxon race
who was so unlike the men of her own,
that caused her heart to futter wildly.
He looked at her for long while, and
then arose. She drew aside to allow
so, gust of wind blew her hair across
his face.
During the months that followed
Rawlston became frequent visitor at
the little rancho, stopping over night
while travelling between the mines and
NGuadalupe y Calvo.
One afternoon, as the glory of the
sunset spread slowly across the valley,
Rawlston rode up to the rancho, where,
finding no one at home, he left his
mule and elm bed the trail that led to
little spring in gulch back of the
house. Chonita was there filling an
ola, but she did not hear him as he
approached, not until he stood at her
side. Then she started, and as she
arose she slipped on the wet clay and
would have fallen had he not caught
her in his arms.
He felt her tremble as he held her,
and drew her closer to him, asking:
Are you hurt, Chonita?"
"No, senor." she replied.
He saw her lips CULVER and. as she
raised her face to his, he read from the
depths of her eyes her secret, and he
bent and kissed her, murmuring
"Sweetheart!' Then he released her
and stood leaning against a tree,
watching her as she descended thb
trail.
He had not been totally unconscious
of her love, though at first it seemed
to him but the admiration of a mere
child; but now he understood, and it
wrought a strange influence over him.
He knew that his love was strong and
true for the woman who alone bound
him to the life he had left behind, yet
he felt how easy it would be, were it
not for her, to drift into the customs
and adopt the modes and morals of the
people of that fair Mexican land, for
there was a certain charm in their
easy-going. languorous life, with its
beauty and its restfulness, that had ap-
pealed to him from the very first. In
/ some strange way that he could not
understand, and yet which seemed per-
fectly natural to him, he longed to re-
main there, away from the world, as il
were, until the end; and he pictured
her. his affianced wife, there with him,
and-he laughed. His reverie was not
! broken; the woman alone changed,
and he wondered how life would be
with Chonita-just for time.
And Chonita.-she reached the house
and hurried to her room, where she
dropped on her knees before little
shrine. sob, Dios!" she said, II am Sc
glad! What have done that I should
be so happy! Thank you, God"
Slowly night came on. Supper was
over. and the room was but dimly
lighted by suffering tallow dip and
the family Pickering blaze of the open
fire in the jacal adjoining. Rawlston
leaned back in his chair, slowly smok-
ing and watching Chonita as she
moved about putting away the supper
things, and he became duly conscious
of desire to take her in his arms
again, to hold her and to feel her
| tremble.
After awhile she brought him cup
of coffee and took from his'saddle bag a
flask of cognac that he always carried
there, and placed il on the table at his
| side. He touched her hand, and into
her eyes came look of longing almost
passionate, and her lips parted as
though to speak, but her father enter
! ing the room she turned away and
sank in huddled heap on the floor at
the kitchen door.
Juan had been cleaning the rife
which Rawlston had allowed him to
use for a week past, and seating him
self at the table, giving the gun a few
finishing touches with a greasy rag, he
exclaimed: "Ah, senior, 1t Is a grand
gun. Madre de Dios, but the shots l
made! would give my soul for such a
one!"
| mot being the devil, Juan, cannot
take your soul, but what else will you
give?" said Rawlston.
"Senor, have nothing but my two
burros and cow might spare n lit
tie maze and frijoles, too, perhaps"
Rawlston laughed, then poured sons
cognac into the coffee, drank it, and,
leaning back against the wall, said:
Juan, I'll give you the rifle il you will
give me-"
"What?" cried Juan.
| "Chonita."
] Juan sprapg to his feet and Rawlston
reached for his revolver, but he had nc
need. The father turned to the girl