The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-05-06

strain of an enforced silence. and. sitting
stiffiy in her chair, as one not accustomed
10 the luxury Of idle conversation, she con-
tinued: And even now, when she's old
enough to know better, you'd think, she
acts possessed. Any windstorm II set her
on, but when the spring gales come she'll
just roam round the house, back and forth.
staring out of doors, and me as nervous as
a cat all the while. Just because / won't let
her go out she acts like a CHILD. Why, last
year l had to go out and drag her in by
main force; / was nearly blown off the cliff
gettin' her home. And she was singin'.
calm. as if she was in her bed like any de-
cent person.! It's the most unnatural thing
I ever heard of Now, Sarah Storrs," as
the girl was slipping from the room, "you
remember you promised me not to go out
this year after supper IL the wind was
high You mind. now, It's comm up an
awful blow"
The girl turned abruptly. ST never prom
ised you that, mother" she said quickly.
Il said I wouldn't IL 1 could help 1t, and IL
1 can't help it 1 can't, and that's all there
is to it." The door closed behind her, and
shortly afterward Willard left Mrs. Storrs
in possession of the room.
The day affected him strangely. The
steady low moan Of the wind was by this
time very noticeable. 1t was not cold, only
clear and rather keen, and the scurrying
gray clouds looked chillier thar one found
the air on going out. The boom of the surf
carried a sinister threat with II, and the
birds drove helplessly with the wind cur
rent, seeming to flee some dreaded thing
hqhfn6 than WILLARD fo,,p1 <ho 1,,+Jo1r g.
fuences depressing. Indoors the state of
affairs was not much better. Mrs. Storrs
looked injured, her sister, a lady of uncer-
tain years and temper, talked Of sudden
deaths and the probability of premature
burial. pointed by the relation of actual &C.
currences OF that nature, and Sarah was
not to be seen. AT last he could bear idle
ness no longer, and. opening the dusty me-
lodeon, tried to drown the dreary minor
music of the wind by some cheerful selec-
ton from the hymn book Mrs. Storrs
brought him, having a vague idea that
secular music was out of keeping with the
character of that instrument. After a few
moments aimless lingering the keys he
found himself pedalling a laborious accom-
paniment to the Dead March from Saul,
and in despair closed the wheezy little or
gan.
The long day dragged somehow by, and
at supper Sarah appeared, If anything,
whittier and more uninteresting than ever,
only to retire Immediately when the meal
was over.
81 nights we'll tell you. Mr.. Willard, that
you en- give up all hope of paintin' any
more this week." announced Mrs. Storrs,
as the door closed behind her daughter.
This winds good for a week, I guess. I'm
sorry to have you go. but L shouldn't feel
honest not to tell you" Mentally vowing
to leave the next morning, Willard thanked
her, and explained that the study was far
enough advanced to be completed at his
studio in the city. and that he had intended
leaving very shortly.
A few moments later as he stood at the
window in the parlor, looking at the wav-
ing elm boughs and lazily wondering how
the moon could be so bright when there
We're so manyeelouds. the soft swish of. a
woman's skirt sounded close to his ear.
AS he turned, the frightened "Oh!" and
the little gasp of surprised femininity re-
vealed Sarah, standing near the table in
the center of the room. Even at that dis
lance and in the dark he was aware of a
difference in her, a subtle element of per-
sonality not present before.
"Did 1 brighten you?" he asked, coming
nearer.
mo, not very much. Only I thought no.
body would be here. II wanted some
place to breathe in; ii seems so tight and
close in the house" AS she spoke a violent
blast of wind drove the shutters against
the branches of the elm until they creaked
dismally. She pressed her face against the
glass and stared out into the dark. Don't
you love it?' she questioned, almost
eagerly.
Willard shook his head obviously. Don't
know. Looks pretty cool. If it gets much
higher I shouldn't care to walk far"
She took her old place by the table
again, but soon left it, and wandered rest
lessly about the room. AS she passed him
she was conscious of a distinct physical
impression-a kind of electric presence. Sh
seemed to gather and hold about her all
the faint light of the cold room, and the
sweep of her skirt against his foot seemed
to draw him toward her. Suddenly she
stopped her irregular march. Hear it
sing!' she whispered. The now distinct
voice of the wind grew to a long. minor
wall, that rose and fell with rhythmic regu-
larity. AS she paused with uplifted finger
near him, Willard felt with amazement a
compelling force, a personality more In
tense. for the time, than his own. Then. as
the blast, with a shrek that echoed for a
moment with startling dis~tinctness from
every side, dashed the elm branches against
the house itself, she turned abruptly and
left the room. "Stay here," she said short
ly, and, resisting the impulse to follow her,
he obeyed. In a few moments she returned
with a heavy shawl wrapped over her head
and shoulders.
Hold the window open for me-" she
said. I'm going out He attempted re-
monstrance, but she waved him impatiently
away. 81 can't get out of the door-mo-
theirs locked 1t and taken the key; but you
can hold up the window while I get out.
Oh. come yourself. If you like! But nothing
can happen to me-"
Mechanically he held open the window as
she slipped out, and dragging his overcoat
after him, scrambled through himself. She
was waiting for him at the corner of the
house, and as he stumbled in the unfa-
mil!ar shadows. held out her hand. Here.
take hold of my hand" she commanded.