The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1897-04-10

came to practical consideration OF ways
and means he was forced to own him.
self nonpIusscd. To retreat, passion
said. was now impossible; but to adj
vance at the impetuous pace his fancy
would choose he had to acknowledge
was almost equally out of the question.
But he did not forget that he had one
chance OF: seeing her again. To be
sure, she had expressly refused to meet
him: but that should not prevent him
from seeing her if it were. possible.
Far rather would he face her displeas-
ure. trusting to clever pleading to win
him pardon, than miss any smallest OPP
port,,nity to further his suit.
But there was no anger. and only the
:amest assumption of surprise, when
he met her up the Old Silver trail next
morning. and his heart grew light with
the guess that she had half expected
him.
"You did not go to Tomtown," she
faltered. recklessly refining her horse
out into the quaking asps as though to
ride by him.
II did-Iast evening"" he returned,
promptly turning about to bring him
self beside her. II got another horse
and went right back after meeting you.
1t was after II o'clock when l rode
through the gulch on my way home.
I came the long way round on account
OF the bad road by night. There was
light in your window as came by the
hotel"
"How did you know which was my
Window" she asked, her cheeks grown
a little pinker. Her horse had taken
the cue from the other, and they were
riding along side by side.
II saw your shadow on the curtain
you were sitting in roclSing-chair.
1 wondered what you were thinking
about. If had had the gift of tele-
pathy l would have been sure; you
should have had passing thought of
me-"
"Arc YOU so sure that the thought
would have been fattering?" retorted
the girl, with an assumption of airy
nonchalance, although the rose tint on
her cheeks ~deepened.
"Oh, as to that. believe I would al
most rather have you think unkindly
than not to think of me at ALL" he
lightly answered. "But l said that
if had the gift of telepathy l could
have been sure of the thought; in that
case l should not have let it be un-
kind"
They rode little way in silence,
Dorothy. as it seemed, rather nervously
avoiding his glance. II suppose I
ought to apologize for coming this morn
ing" he finally observed, but. with
little Of con triton in the tone. '"The
fact of it is, though, could not bear
to think of your riding over here all
alone It seemed hardly safe, really"
An irrepressible little laugh burst
from the girls lips. Indeed. Well, per-
haps l ought to thank you for your
sclicitude, but to tell the truth, don't
think that was in any very imminent
danger"
Another of the bridge poles might
have broken; or you might have met
a tramp
THAT is SO likely, in this Wilderness"
laughing again. Nobody comes here
but YOU"
And am apologizing for coming"
"But you are not saying that you are
sorry?"
II hope you are not?"
Il think you are assuming a good
deal in expressing such hope" she
retorted. "But perhaps it is as well
that you came. can give you the
handkerchief now and save you the
trouble of riding on to the hut for it. "
There was twinkle of mischief in her
eyes as she produced the small par
eel from the saddle pocket.
"Ah, thanks; but am going on, just
the same, if you don't mind" he i'm
perturbably returned. II want to put
a new paddock on the door in place Of
the one / so unceremoniously smashed
the other day. You don't mind, really,
do your"
would it make any difference if I
did?" she rather tartly retorted.
"All the difference in the world"
promptly checking his horse, with a
keen glance for the effect Of the move
ment.
~ should be sorry to thwart your
good intentions in respect to the door,"
she said, with demure smile, after q
slight pause.
THANK you," he returned, gratefully;
and the ride was resumed.
II am sorry that have to return the
handkerchief in such wrinkled condi'
1ion." Dorothy remarked. hesitatingly,
after awhile; II should have had it
done up; but to send it to the laundry
with that monogram"
lob, don't speak Of it. 1t is not of the
slightest consequence"
DO you mean the monogram?" she
flashed back, mischievously. at would
seem to be OF the very greatest conse-
quence. have never seen moro beauti-
full work Of the sort"
'Oh, that-yes; she Goes that sort OF
thing very we'll, l believe" he returned.
ahsently. ''And the best of it is, s!,o
is never weary of we!l-doing. She is
always sending me more
Indeed" hint of cold surprise in
the tone. Tho truth was that with inn
pulsive argument quite feminine in its
tenor, it had become settled il Dorothy's
mind that the exquisite stitchezy on
that handkerchief betrayed sweet
hearts gift. She would not like to con-
fess even to herself how often she had
sn:oothed out the crumpled silk upon
her lap. studying the interlaced letters
with dreamy questioning in her eyes.
yT1> 40. sl,o The other woman w hoces