The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-01-16
MISS BLAKE'S Love AFFAIR.
BY ANNIE Z. H0 LDSWOHTH.
Is9s by Annie r. HOIdsworth.
CHAPTER I.

across the valley. She had already been
three DAYS in Davos; but she had passed
the three days in bed, and had seen moth
ing of the snow-world TO which she had
come Curiosity did not conquer the wis
fulness in her eyes. There was no one TO
taunt her with melancholy to-day. she
might be as miserable as life, and Aunt
Sabina would not grumble at her. She al
most longed for the fretful voice that had
worn her nerves. 1t would be better than
this silence, and the loneliness Of the last
three days.
Tears came into her eyes, and b-otied
out the scene before her; the radiance Oh
the snow, the piled darkness of the Jatz-
horn, the pines climbing the sides yet
never reaching the summit.
The scattered chalets in the valley were
muffed in snow, hemmed in by the noun
tasns.
From Miss Blake's balcony you could
not see the pass that swept up the Dlscn-
MARTIAL to the great white Scaletta ga
cier. After sunset the snowfeld became
a sea of glass mingled with fire, that fash
ed its light from peak to peak III
Schwarzhorin, and Jatzhorn, and Seehorn
lit beacon fires, and signalled the Austrian
mountains. But Miss Blake could not see
beyond the Jatzhorn, that couched at the
gate of the pass.
She leaned YEARLY against the balcony
and wondered what life in Davos would
bring to her.
Her thin figure looked girlish on lis perch
under the red and white awning that shell
tered her from a blazing sun. The bal
cony was high up on the hotel wall, and
no one passing below could see her faded
hair and the lines on her face. Since
Aunt Sabinas death she had almost for
gotten her forty years. No one had re-
minded her of them. She laughed a little.
apolosetic for the tears and regret she was
wasting on the old life. However lonely
she might be in Davos she could not be
more friendless than she had been during
her twenty years with Aunt Sabina. Girl
hood had withered and womanhood droop-
ed in the frost of that long winter. During
those old days she had not known laugh
ter, not even the laughter that tears
choled.
Aunt sabinas money had done what It
could TO make amends for the sacrifice she
had claimed Now Miss Blake was free,
with the freedom of spinsterhood, and
ample means; and she had not a single
relative to interfere with her liberty.
But freedom had come too late. She
said ii again as she leaned against the
ironwork of the balcony. Her life was as
bare as the road winding across the valley
to the Waldhaus. where not a sign of life
showed Then her face woke, and pleas
81 me her faded "A thew
peered forward Some one had turned round
from the Waldhaus and was coming up
the road, a distant figure whose skirts sug-
gested a woman. She took 1t as an omen.
Her life would not be altogether bare;
some human interest would come to fill it.
A superstltious feeling of which she was
secretly ashamed made her watch the fig
ure in its slow advance. AS 1t came near
er she noticed the shutting walk and the
swing OF the long skirts.
Poor soul"' she said; at must be diff
cult TO walk in the snow. If l had been
on the road I could have offered her my
arm"
She gave a quick cry as the figure STUN
bled and fell; and then a sigh of relief
for it rose again, shaking off the snow.
A moment after, wave of heat passed
over her, and she knew she was blushing
as she had been used to blush when Aunt
Sabina accused her of sentiment. The
person on the road was man. His fall
had betrayed him. Miss Blake dartet
back into her bedroom as though she haC
been caught prying into somebody's Sc
cret But though she shut the window sh,
stood close to it, and lifted the corner o.
the curtain that she might watch the I'M
calmly object shutting along.
He came nearer, and she ceased to blush
for an indiscretion. The person on tn,
road had made no attempt 60 disguise his
sex. The capped coat that swung abou
as he walked was a mans The flaps o.
his cap met across an iron-grey beard
She could not see his eyes for the blue cog
giles that shielded them from the glare
He disappeared round the corner of tn,
hotel as the luncheon bell rang. Sh
was brought back from the small excite
ment of the incident to remind hersel
that she had to face the ordeal of tabl
d'hote. But it was less alarming than i
had been an hour ago. She had caugh
sight of a world outside herself; and
though she trembled, she was eager I,
explore it. She brushed her hair, he
fingers shaking as she patted and smooth
ed it down on either side the parting I'll
it framed her face in lank bands. Aun
Sabina had taught her to dress It 81
twenty years ago, and she had neve
thought of changing the fashion.
Her black gown showed her figure wit
cruel exactness. She pinned it tighter We
across her chest, where a slight loose
ness would have softenedNthe lines TIL
occurred to her that she could afford
better material than she had worn II
Aunt Sabina's lifetime. She had no world
1y wisdom to guide her conduct. She ha
no idea that money could make a differ
ence to her social standing. If Aunt Sa
binas companion had been of no impor
tance, how could wealth give her clair
to consideration?
She did not even know the privileges o
money. She still thanked Babette whe
she brought her hot water and she al
ways apologized after ringing the bell
Her air stamped her as she entered IN
y salle-amanger, shrinking as she had bee
used to shrink when she faced Aunt Sa
binas meal time brutalities Cecil Ca
rew's glance labeled her and Henrette'
face wore apology when she shove
Miss Blake TO one of two empty chairs a
the aristocratic end of the table
There occurred the scrutinizing silenc
that invariably welcomes the new-come
10 table d'hote; but Miss Blake did nc
see the covert smile that greeted her an
pearance before the table talk bega
again. She had not courage enough
look round her. In her nervousness sh
had refused soup; and she sat twistin
= ..r !.