The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-05-26
CHAPTER Nv.

AS III The MOODS Or "A M<A1DEN.
We had been walking the horses slowly
a good hour northward, for had no choice
but to get on with my journey. The rain
had stopped, and the first light Of Sep
TENDER day began to show up over the high
land to the eastward. Not word had we
said since getting we'll started. 1 for one
had more to think than talk on, and the
girl was too wearied to do more than sit
in her ungainly saddle, while 1 led her
wretched nag
Heaven knows, I am no poet and never
was, but the break of that day was beau
tiful thing to see. All the earth was wet
and glistening on the barest excuse for
light. The trees all but met over our
heads, with now and then an open bit of
country. and here and there sight of the
big river And all the little noises OF the
morning-the insects, the birds-kept up a
singing and a wheeling and droning that
would make the heart bound within you.
Then would come a little more light, and
the trees would separate and stand up of
themselves, and you could tell houses from
sand banks. And from a strange and
ghostly whiteness there came big red
glow like sunset, but still never was that
light at setting sun. Here and there was
red-tipped bough, while the big rocks
across the stream burned with the color.
Then 1 watched the color go by and the
first white light of the sun pitch against
the cliffs, catch the trees above us and
.nen come dropping around US on the wet
turf and the red mud at our feet. And an
other clear day come out OF as filthy
a night as one could guess at.
Its a very fine day. said strange
voice at my side.
1 turned in my saddle in wonder, and
found her looking up at the trees overhead
and the sky through them. and then turned
back in my saddle and said not word.
What might be her ladyships next mood?
AS for myself, L was too worn out, too I'M
certain to my next move TO see aught
in the situation but desperate outlook and
small chance of my mission finishing that
day or week.
So the noisy silence of the wood began
again.
You have not the manners of his Males
tvs court, sir" said she blandly.
81. have never had occasion to be there.
mistress" l answered, with some meaning
to my tone.
MOP" said she, and studied the green
leaves about her for a space. It's
wretched thing" she added after a bit.
What, the court?'
Nay, the want Of the manners"
Perhaps you would prefer to return to
the Others" and then L stuck a spur into
old Roger and cursed myself for fool.
he soil
them
"A courtly response. indeed. Where were
you bred, sir?"
country, mistress The town of Boston, in
Massachusetts colony"
''Oh, 1 have heard tell of it. A little,
wandering town where men pray for eight
days in the week and woman may wear
only black and never raise her eyes from
the buckle of her slipper
"'Tis a town of great men and big hearts,
Mistress Philipse. And tbs not for even
British butterfly to demean it,
Am l, l wonder, Mistress Philipse?"
said she, looking at me with a CLINT in her
eye. Or
II do not know, madam That was the
name you took but a few hours since"
She had a look in her face that for the
life of me l could not read. Was it
bursting desire tc laugh or a vixens love
of teasing?
"Or am I Mistress-Mstress-B alfort,
is it?"
IF you were so indeed you should not
speak thus of the cradle of liberty"
"Ah, indeed! And would you tell me who
should prevent it?''
THAT 1 will, mistress. No other than
your husband"
"Ah indeed!' said she again. 81 see that
you have lived much in the company of
women and know them full WELL Captain
Balfort"
Lieutenant Balfort, at your service.
mistress"
You should be captain. SIR said she.
looking UP through the trees. You bore
yourself as such not many hours since"
The change of tone was so quick that for
some unknown reason 1 grew red with
shame and asked seriously enough:
Twill you tell me why you should go
through a bad scene as brave any-any
soldier, and then faint at sight of
drunken mann
"Ah, do not speak of him." cried She
turning a face that on a sudden had a bit
of that terror in it again. And then, look
ing back on the road, Think you they
may follow us?"
NAY. mistress" l answered mot one
of them could stand"
Then why will you bring me back to
that tavern when 1 am tired and would
talk of other things?"
Twas a thoughtless query. and 1 ask
your forgiveness" said 1, riding closer to
her, for 1 thought she would sway off the
nag's back.
But her eye grew bright again on sud-
den.
do not fear, sir" said She with her
chin in the air. II am no chicken hearted
maid. 1 do not require the support of an
arm-not even when that arm belongs to a
husband"
Mistress Philipse." said earnestly, rest
ing a hand on her horses name. you have
twice referred to part of last nights per.
Torrance with the scorn that. God knows
you no doubt feel But you are in the
wrong to give it any credence. except as
the brave act of a brave woman, who saved
by her ready wit her companion from sure
death and herself from worse. Do you
perchance. think that that companion
places any other significance upon it?'
She turned her head away and looked
down at the wet ferns by the roadside for
a moment without reply, and then. looking
me in the face, answered:
mi