Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1903-09-28

Something in his face. something in
her heart. startled her so that she made
q quick little move like that of q rest
less bird.
You are beautiful. and that makes
my eyes and my hand uncertain" he
went on. Were l fencing with a
man there would be no glamour
He spoke In English, which he did
not often do in ycifN%e isation with ner.
1t was n sign that he was somewhat
wrought upon. She followed his rapid
words with di:Dr1lry. but b caught
from them a new note Of feeling. he
saw a little pale fare shoot across her
face and thought she was angry.
You should not use our dimples to
distract my vision" he quickly ADDED,
with d light laugh. ut would be no
worse for me to throw my hat in your
face"
His attempt at levity was obviously
weak. She looked straight into his
eyes with the steady gaze OF a simple,
earnest nature shocked by n current
| quite strange to it. She did not I'M
derstand him, and she did. Her fine
intuition gathered swiftly together a
hundred shreds of impression received
from him during their recent growing
intimacy. He was a patrician. as she
vaguely made him out, a nan OF
| wealth. whose family was great. he
belonged among people of gentle birth
and high attachments. She magnitied
him SO that he was diffused in her i'm
! %agination. as difficult to comprehend
as a mist in the morning air-and as
beautiful.
"You make fun of me-" she said very
deliberately, letting her eyes droop.
Then she looked up again suddenly
, and continued, with a certain naive ex-
preston of disappointment gathering
in her face: II have been too free with
YOU. Father Beret told me not to for
get my dignity when in your company.
He told me you might misunderstood
me. don't care. I shall not fence
with you again" She laughed, but
| there was no joyous freedom in the
| sound.
"Why. Alchemy dear Miss Roussil-
lon. you do me a wrong. l beg a thou
sand pardons II I've hurt you" he
cried. stepping nearer to her, land |
can never forgive myself. You have
somehow misunderstood me, l know
| you have"
On his part it was exaggerating a
| mere contact of mutual feelings into a
.~l1fr;1p yyo NC ~ mYYnh
| self deceived as was she, and he made
more noise about it.
TT is you who have misunderstood
me-" she replied, smiling brightly now.
BUT with just a faint, pitiful touch or
egret or self blame lingering In her
ioice. Father Beret said you would.
did not believe him, but
"And you shall not believe him. said
Beverley. II have not misunderstood
you. There has been nothing. You
nave treated me kindly and with beau-
tiful friendliness. You have not done
or said a thing that Father Beret or
anybody else could criticise, and II l
have said or done the least thing to
trouble you l repudiate i'll did not
mean it. Now you believe me, don't
You, Miss Roussillon"
He seemed to be falling into the hab-
1t of speaking to her in English. She
understood it somewhat imperfectly, es-
oecially when in an earnest momen he
yushed his words together as If they
lad been soldiers he was leading at the
] charge step against an enemy. His
manner convinced her ever though his
/ diction fell short.
..Then we'll talk about something
else" she said. laughing naturally now
and retreating to a chair by the hearth
side. 81 want you to tell me all about
yourself and your family. your home
and everything"
She seated herself with al air of con-
scious aplomb and motioned him to
take q distant stool.
There was a great heap Of dry logs In
the fireplace. with pointed flames shoot
ing ont of it's crevices and leaping into
the gloomy, cavelike throat of the hue'
Outside a wind passed heavily across
the roof and beloved in the chimney
top.
Beverley drew the stool near Alice
who with a charred stick used as a
poker was thrusting at the glowing
crevices and sending showers OF sparks
aloft.
why, there wouldn't be much to
tell" he said, glad to feel secure again
Our home is a big old mansion named
Beverley Hall, on a hill among trees
] and half surrounded with slave cabins