The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1902-05-18

He told her of his home in the noun
tains.
OF a little house, high up near the
| clouds. OF the big fireplace with the
roaring fire, of his books, of the deep
window that looked out on the beauty
of the snow, of the window seat which
| he had made. and heaped with red,
blankets and bear skins, of the half
frozen wild things that were his COM
! panions.
You are a gentleman she said,
with q guilty consciousness of a form
er definition, but the name fitting him,
| seemed to take on dignity. And yet
you have chosen this life. Why"
Because there is within me that
which makes the tramp on the poor
man. Because 1 must go on forever
living with nature. Perhaps my great
great grandfather had in him the blood
of a gypsy; such is the tradition. But
know this, that I should die in the
captivity of everyday duties"
And are you never lonely?"
II never knew loneliness" he an
swered. until now"
His eyes were on the sunset, and her
white, bare hand went out toward him.
and was drawn back, timidly
Il must go now" she said. She knet
| beside the dog.
He is almost we'll" She spoke re-
! gretfully.
Yes, he is well enough to go
| home"
mo, no." she looked up, startled. HE
| must not leave you yet"
His eyes were again on the west,
where the last red glow blazed against
| the gray.
ut is I who must not stay" he said.
She stood up, her face white.
He made no sign. The fire in the
west died, and the eyes that he turned
to her reflected the gray of the twi-
light.
Think of it," he said. 1.-THE life I
lead. A woman cannot know of the
restlessness that stirs my blood. What
can you know of it, you who are quiet,
! self-contained? But there are women
there was a gypsy woman 1 met on the
road. She loved the fragrance of the
pines, as l love it. She loved the very
dust of the road that tired her feet She
was happy out in the dew, and even
| the winds of winter could not take the
light from her face, though she was
often lily clad, poor thing"
And you loved HERO
81 have never loved any woman" he
said, shortly. She was a gypsy, and
the wife of a gypsy, and she loved her
husband. But I think of her because
she was the only woman who could I'M
| derstand"
Perhaps" she said, slowly, there
might be other women. Women who
have not walked the dusty road, nor
felt the summer dew on their faces in
the freedom of the fields Women who
hate the restraints of society. Women
who for love of a man would go to the
worlds end"
The darkness was coming on, but
through the dusk her face shone with
the wilderness of pearl
He dropped on his knee beside her.
rs there such a woman?" he said.
Tell me, is there such a woman?'
The slender hand rested for a mo-
ment on his shoulder.
Perhaps" she whispered. but
don't know yet. Not yet"
Then she left him.
All night long he lay awake under
the stars. His thoughts went forward
into the winter, and he saw her in the
big chair in front of the fire, or resting
in the windaw seat, deep in the cozi-
ness of the red blankets and furs. He
dreamed of her face at the window
watching for him to come across the
snow. He saw her in the spring, lis
tening for the first call of the birds
and filling the rude vases with dog
wood and violets. Then the summer
They would not wander near the
; haunts of men. She was too sweet fol
rude eyes to look upon. Perhaps they
would sail on unknown waters, anc
when the breath of the salt sea touched
them they would feel together the joy
Gus madness which was their heritage
from the sea kings.
No one should enter their paradise
The little old priest of the chapel a
the cross roads should marry them
and then the world should know then
no more.
He watched for her the next morning
AS he stood by the dusty roadside
again the coach came by and again she
was on top. Again she wore the rec
coat, and man on the seat beside hel
not Danforth-was adoring her witt
his eyes. In her hands she held buncf
of red roses The vagabond sat in tbs
shadow of the trees, and the cloud Of
dust hid him from all but the eyes o.
the one who knew. But when the
coach had passed red rose
lay on the grass by the road
side. AS he picked it up MS
voce rang out triumphantly. reaching
her family amid the noise of beatlns
hoofs, rafting wheels and gay chatter
Scatter the dust on the kings high
) way,
: But room for the beggar, room, l say
) Far behind Danforth was following
: the coach on horseback AS he caugh
/ sight of the figure. the head thrown
back and the poise expressing th'
strength that comes from the buffetlns
! of storms and the beating of winds
, as he heard the defiant notes of the
ringing voice, his face hardened, anc
he refined up before the group of two
The dog welcomed him with SLOW
thumps of his tail; evidently he anc
: Danforth were friends, if not every
! enthusiastic ones.
The eyes of the two men met anc
struck fire. 1t was the battle OF
Greek and barbarian. Each was con
l scious of a rivalry--a rivalry grudglng
ly admitted by Danforth and scarcely
hoped for by the vagabond.
He is masterful,and 1t is masterful
ness that wins" was the thought tina
; struck Danforth with the force of q
blow.
: He is of her class" mourned the
heart of the vagabond, as he took II
the perfection of the other, from rid
ing boots to hat.
when can 1 take the dog home?'
said Danforth. His tone was more in
solent than he knew.
Into the vagabond's soul there surg
ed hot resentment, but it was succeed
ed by confidence. How dared he doub
with that red rose next TO his heart
"Now-if he will go with you" He
said IL carelessly, as matter of small
importance. But within him the BLOOD
was throbbing. Would the dog decide
for them
Danforth flicked his whip against his