Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1896-02-19

tno pIG III my nOSCr1lS. l rode and shout
ed, and she bent forward and lashed he
horse, and the aftermath of the dus
storm came up and caught us both ant
! drove us downward like pieces of paper
l don't know how far we rode, bu
the drumming of the horse hoofs, and tn,
roar of the wind, and the race of thu
blood red moon through the yellow mis-
seemed to have gone on for years ant
years, and l was literally drenched with
sweat from my helmet to my gaiteri
when the gray stumbled, recovered him.
self and drew up dead lame. My brute
was used up altogether. Edith Copleigh
was in sad state, plastered with dust,
her helmet off and crying bitterly.
Why can't you let me alone?" she
SAID. II only wanted to get away and
go home. Oh, please let me go!''
You have got to come back with me,
Miss Copleigh. Saumarez has something
to say to you -
It was foolish way of putting it, but
a. hardly knew Miss Copleigh, and
though l was playing providence at the
cost OF my horse could not tell her in
as many words what Saumarez had told
me- l thought he could do that better
himself. All her pretense about being
tired and wanting to go home broke
down, and she rocked herself to and fro
In the saddle as she sobbed, and the hot
wind blew her black hair to leeward. II
am not going to repeat what she said,
because she was utterly unstrung.
This, if You please, was the cynical
Miss Copleigh. Here was I, almost an
utter stranger to her, trying to tell her
that Saumarez loved her, and she was
to come back and hear him say so. be-
heve l made myself understood, for she |
gathered the gray together and made
him hobble somehow, and we set off for
the tomb, while the storm went tbun-
derlng down to Umballa, and few big
drops OF warm rain fell. found ont
that she had been standing close to Sau-
marez when he proposed to her sister
and had wanted to 20 home to cry in
peace, as an English girl should. She
dabbed her eyes with her pocket hand
kerchlef as we went along and babbled
to me out of sheer nghtness of heart
and hysteria. That was perfectly uu-
natural, and yet it seemed all right at
the time and in the place. All the world
was only the two Copleigh girls, Sau-
marez and I, ringed in with the light
ming and the dark, and the guidance of
this misguided world seemed to lie in
my hands.
When we returned to the tomb in the
deep, dead stiffness that followed the
storm, the dawn was just breaking, and
nobody had gone away. They were
waiting for our return, Saumarez most
If all. His face was white and drawn.
As Miss Copleigh and 1 limped up, he
came forward to meet us, and when he
Helped her down from her saddle, he
Kissed her before all the picnic. It was
ike scene i'll a theater, and the like
less was heightened by all the dust
White, ghostly looking men and women
lnder the orange trees clapping their
lands, as if they were watching a play.
t Saumarez' g choice. never knew anv-
hing SO un-English in my life.
Lastly Saumarez said we must all 90
ome; or the station would come out to
ook for us, and would ! be good enough
ride home with Maud Copleigh. Moth
ng would give me greater pleasure, I
aid.
So we formed up, six couples in all,
nd went back two by two, Saumarez
alking at the side of Edith Copleigh,
Tho was riding his horse.
The air was cleared, and little by lit
as the sun rose felt we were all
coping back again into ordinary men
I'd women and that the ''great pop
cnic" was thing altogether apart
I'd out of the world, never to happen
Jain. 1t had gone with the duststorm ,
i'd the tingle Of the hot air.
l felt tired and limp and good deal :
hamed Of myself as went in for !
tn and some sleep. .
There is a woman's version of this ;
)ry, but it will never be written, m !
IS Maud Copleigh cares to try.-Rud =
rd Kipling. .