The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1898-06-24
CHAPTER x1n.-fcoNr,xupp.)


Earnestly pleading with her friend,
Clara advances toward the window.
She. too, has suffered under the vast
ing Influences OF suspense. Her face
has lost its youthful freshness; no
delicate flush Of color rises on it when
she speaks The soft gray eyes which
won Franks heart in the by-gone time
are sadly altered now. In repose they
lave a dim and wearied look. In ac-
ton they are wild and restless, like
eyes suddenly awakened from startling
dreams. ROBBED in white, her soft,
brown hair hanging loosely over her
shoulders, there is something weird
and ghoatlike in the girl, as she moves
nearer and nearer to the window in
the faM light of the moon, pleading for
music TINT shall be worthy of the mys-
terry ana the beauty of the night.
VIII you come in here if play to
yuu." Mrs Crawford asks. "It is a
risk. my love. to be out in the night
aiE."
No! no! I like it, Play-while
an out here, looking at the sea. 1t
Gaiets me; it comforts me; it does me
good."
She glides back, ghostlike, over the
lawn Mrs. Crawford rises and puts
down the volume that she has been
reading 1t is record of explorations
In the Arctic seas. The time has gone
oy when the two lonely women could
cake an interest in subjects not con-
nected with their own anxieties. Now,
when hope is fast failing them-now,
0hen their last news of the Wanderer
and the Sea-Mew is news that is more
than two years old-they can read of
nothing, but dangers and discoveries,
tosses and rescues. in the terrible Polar
seas.
Unwillingly, Mrs. Crawford puts her
ecok aside and goes to the piano-AIo-
zart's 'tAir in A, with Variations" lies
open On the instrument. One after an
other she plays the lovely melodies,
90 simply. SO purely beautiful, of that
unpretending and unrivalled work. At
che close of the ninth variation (Clara's
4avOrite) she pauses, and turns toward
the garden.
Shall / stop there?" she asks.
There is no answer. Has Clara wan
dered away out of hearing of the mu-
sic that she loyes-the music that har-
Monies SO subtly with the tender
'oe7nty af the night? Mrs. Crawford
rises and advances to the window.
No! there is the white figure stand
ing alone on the slope of the lawn
the head turned away from the house;
the face 2ooking out over the calm sea,
whose gently rippling waters end in
the dim line On the horizon, which is
che line OF the Hampshire coast.
Mrs. Crawford advances as far as
the path before the window and calls
to her. "Clara"
!. Again there is no answer. The white
figure still stands immovably in it's
place. With signs of distress in her
face, but with no appearance of alarm,
Mrs- Crawford returns to the room. Her
own sad experience tells her what has
hAppeEed. She summons the SER
wants, End directs them to wait in the
Z irawing room until she calls to them.
Ehis done, she returns to the garden,
and approaches the mysterious figure
ar the Tawn.
Dead to the outer world, as if she lay
:. Already IN her grave-insensible to
Touch, insensible to sound, motionless
*as stone, cold as stone-Clara stands
ssE the moonlit lawn, facing the sea-
wrd view. Mrs. Crawford waits at her
side, patiently watching for the change
which she knows is to come. "Cata-
lspsy." as some call it-"hysteria," as
others say-this alone is certain, the
same interval always passes; the
same change always appears.
II comes now. Not change in her
eyes; they stiM remain wide open, fixed
and CLASSY. The first movement is a
movement Of her hands. They rise
slowly from her side, and waver in the
afr like the hands of a person cropping
In the dark Another interval-and
the movement spreads to her lips; they
cart and tremble. A few minutes
more, and words begin to drop, one by
one, from those parted lips-words
spoken in lost, vacant tone, as if she
e talking In her sleep.
Mrs. Crawford looks back at the
house. Sad experience makes her sus-
Dacaous of the servants curiosity. Sad
experience has long since warned her
that the servants are not to be trust
"a within hearing of the wild words
which Clara speaks in the trance. Has
sny one Of them ventured into the gar
1en? No. They are out of hearing at
sAs window, waiting for the signal
which tells them that their help is
needed
Il Turning toward Clara once more,
1lrx CRAWFORD hears the vacantly-ut-
1srsd woods falling faster and faster
from her lips.
Frank: Frank! Frank! Don't drop
hehind-do0't trust Richard Wardour.
Il while you can stand, keep with the