The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1897-12-19

she ought to be very happy over the
prospect before her, but just as
surely, she was not. Someway she had
never thought nearly so much of Mark
during all his months Of devoted at
tendance upon her slightest within as
she had during the few days that had
passed since he had renowned his allie
glance.
She had seen-now that it was per-
haps too late-that she had been mis-
taken in not listening to him more pa
tiently. Unjust as he had been it
would have been better to have gently
tried to have convinced him of that fact
than to have parted with him in anger.
Besides, she was not quite sure, after
thinking the matter over quietly, that
she had not been a little bit to blame
in reality, and she had determined, if
it were possible to do so with dignity,
to convey hint of this to him at their
next meeting. Not because she wanted
to win him back-no indeed; simply as
a matter of justice. When one has
been even a trifie in the wrong she
should be willing to acknowledge the
fact, and Miss Thorne felt that, as a
mere matter of self discipline, she
ought to be very strict with herself in
this particular instance. Meanwhile,
however, Mark was away and she
must kill time as best she could until
his return.
A piece of coal falling out of the
CRATE reused her from her meditations,
and she suddenly realized that the
tears were very near her eyes She
also realized that it would never do to
let them fall. therefore she rose hast
lily and turned up the gas, humming a
gay little French air as she did so.
Her gown lay on the couch beside
the dressing table, still wrapped in its
white tissue covering. Jane would be
late coming in she knew, for her aunt
would be even more difficult to please
than usual when preparing for so
grand an occasion, therefore she IN
pinned the dainty robe, shook out its
shimmering folds, smoothed out its
ribbons and laces with caressing
touches of her soft little hands and
made other small preparations for her
toilet. Then, with her hands lightly
clasped behind her graceful head, she
began to pace slowly up and down the
room.
The curtains of the French window
at the end had not yet been drawn,
and the glow of the fire and the rose
shaded light combined to make a
pretty picture of her slender figure
against the darkness of the night So
clear was the reflection that Miss
Thorne could almost imagine that it
was a real young woman who was
walking up and down on the Veranda
and, moved by a whimsical impulse,
she nodded and smiled as she, for the
second time, drew near the glass. The
girl outside nodded and smiled in re-
turn, and then as Miss Thorne drew
| nearer still and gaZed out at her Gu
riously she was conscious of expert
encing an odd little fluttering of. the
heart
The face that looked in at her with
eager shining eyes out of the gloom
seemed in some strange way to have
suddenly acquired a separate individ-
uality, and to be no longer merely
shadow of her own! It was still her
image that stood there-perfect in
every detail, from the quantity fash
| toned jeweled comb which fastened the
knot of ripping brown hair to the
| pointed toe of the dainty slipper that
was just visible under the edge of her
skirt. Her image as clearly defined as
! if reflected from a mirror, but that i'm
age was no longer simply initiative in
action and expression. It had become
! a separate entity-a distinct existence
! a young woman per Sc, although of
such extreme airiness of compost
| ton that as Miss Thorne bent forward
with her hands over her eyes and
| gazed at her, more than half doubling
| the evidence of her own vision, she
saw the veranda ratings and the