The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1898-05-06

most present: but she had not sung
many notes before they realized this
was new thing in singing. The voice
had n rich, peculiar quality. and the
soul Of the woman spoke through 1t.
Mr.. Hardcastle decided there and
then that he would ask her to marry
him. Mr.. Cyril Ranger could not for
the life of him think what he had been
doing to have spent whole week near
such n woman and not have proposed to
her. Two young men who had come a
week ago, intending to stay for the
night only, and who fingered on be-
cause, as they said, OF the sociable, gay,
unconventional life OF the place-in 9th
er words, because Of the little widow
each vowed TO himself he would write
that very night to his father and ex-
plain the situation, suggesting a read
justment of business relations with n
view to marriage at an early date.
Edward Brogden was deeply affected
Next morning when he found himself
seated beside her on a steamer making
an excursion round the island he said:
"Well, Mrs. Walton, have you any more
surprises for us? DO you know you as
tonished US all last night? l cannot
reconcile the sadness of your singing
with your usual gayety. am puzzled
to know which is your real self"
Both are real" she said. 81 have
at least half dozen quite distinct
selves. Sometimes one Is to the fore,
sometimes another. 1t depends on my
mood and my surroundings whether
laugh to prevent myself crying or break
my heart singing sad songs through
sheer delight and the joy of living"
"You are an enigma"
mo, l am womanr'
ut Is the same thing"
She drew his attention to Ailsa Crag.
'Yes, yes, the crag," said he, absent
ly. "Do you know l always feel at
tracted by anything enlgmatlcal or
mysterious; the more complex woman
Is the better l like her; l am weary of
simple, transparent souls whom he that
runs may read. What an experienced
What splendid interest 1t would bel
All, Mrs. Walton, life would be worth
living If you"
"See, Mr.. Brogden, we must be near
Ing Lashlam; and do look at those low
ers wandering along the road. Isn't 1t
sad?
"What is sadT'
"Oh, they will get married."
"That is the best thing they can do"
Mrs. Walton informed him with tears
In her eyes that she felt n little hys-
terlcal to-day. that 1t was the last day
Of her holiday, and that If he would
excuse her she would not talk any more
but would sit quietly by herself at the
other side of the boat
''The last day of your holiday? Then
you must certainly let me speak to you
of something which affects me vitality"
he said, as he raised his hat and moved
away.
Afterwards" she exclaimed; after
wards"
At o'clock that afternoon n large.
dull. florid, bald man of about 80 was
standing In the hall with Mrs. Walton
when Edward Brogden came In to look
for rer to have his talk on something
vital to himself.
"Allow me to Introduce you to my
husband, Mr.. Brogden," she said, smll-
ing through her gold-rimmed glasses.
All that day Mrs. Owens cap was in
chronic state of displacement through
shaking her head over the dull, fiorid
man. mo wonder, poor thing. she
wanted to be gay and to forget" she
kept saying.
Mr.. Brogden staid It out to the bitter
end. Perhaps he was more of an ex-
perlmentalist than lover, and awaited
new developments. Perhaps he was
really In love with this fair-haired wife
of the dull, ford man-thls wife who
took holiday once every year by her
self, and tried to be happy, and gay,
and TO fOrget-fOrget.-Ar