Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1896-06-25

est. | don't believe you know what
oar forests are like. They're 90
deep and dim and still. The moss
is like q pale-green velvet carpet,
and The great trees 60 up, so straight
and close together, two hundred,
three hundred feet
THAT is one Of your boom sto.
ries, he interrupted, with an amus.
ed smile.
y IL true one,' she replied, smil-
ing. too, but breathing Silly. and
the sunlight only gets through
enough to lie on the moss in tiny,
gid shapes. The firs are clocks
NJ lsor nEeone Tar exerx minute;
and when i rains yon can hear It
sinking into the earth. Pan il not
dead = she exclaimed, in sudden
burst Of tumultuous passion, strik-
ing her palms together. Then a
swift, deep color came into her face,
and she was silent.
Glider would have been amused
had he not been so touched. A man
who is both touched and amused 10
interested.
He walked with her to her door.
All the windows shone out like
brass. The dusty ferns took on
sudden quivering glory of color.
Amethyst clouds were breaking
apart in the tall tops Of the trees.
He followed her into the dining
room.
lam coming in to see your books
he said.
She hesitated. 1t was q real blush
that came now. H've not very
many she said; she still stood hes.
ltating. Then she lifted her head
with a movement that would have
been naughty in any other woman,
and walked to door at one of the
room, he following her, and flung
it open.
This is my study she said, with
the air Of q queen. NO one has
ever been in here; but you may
come in
Thank you, he replied entering.
1t was tiny room, not more than
eight feet square. The floor was
covered with blue-striped mating.
There was one small window, cur
tanned with some thin blue stuff.
Delicate vines were outlined against
it. The walls were lined with books.
In the centre of the room was q
small homemade table, painted
white. A wooden chair, also painted
white, was drawn close to it. -,
Glider walked about the room,
looking at the books. They were
all good, but some of them amazed
him. He had expected to find
Longfellow and Whittier but he
was unprepared for Rossetti, Ten
nyson, Dante, Milton, Hugo, Eliot,
the.
Sidonie sat down and rested her
elbows on the table. sinking her
chin in her palms. She looked at
him steadily as he went about the
room; there were burning ques-
tions in her eyes. Presently he
brought q chair from the dining
room and sat down opposite her.
The table was Uttered with maya
zines. A book lay open, with the
leaves pressed down..
you have read all these books p
he asked.
! Many times
He took another look ut the
shelves.
'You have read more deeply than
most college women. What, of all
these books. is your favorite p
She laid her hand, palm down.
ward, on the open book. It was
the Bible. 1t was open at the
fourth chapter of SolOmon's Song.
Il thought you would name Ten
nyson or Longfellow,' he said, after
surprised silence. Or, perhaps,
Rosetti. / certainly expected that
you would name q poet
There 10 no poetry like that,
She leaned towards him, passing
her hand on the book. There was
q fire in her eyes. there never
will be any poets like the men that
wrote it. They were not afraid
He was conscious of q deep thrill
of exaltation I; q sudden shaking
loose of low ambitions and . rising
to a clearer, higher atmosphere.
He looked intently into her eyes.
who taught You to feel that