The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1903-04-25

to turn the balance for or against
love. Lovers are now hot. now cold.
and at the mercy of every wind that
blows. One afternoon. as Carroll
and Martha were returning from
town they let their horses take their
own pace and settled themselves
comfortably back ON the buggy seat
and listened to the hum of tho
wheels and drank in the charm of
the country, which the soft sunlight
was revealing in it's richest mood.
Looking dreamily into Martha's
eyes as the carriage rolled home
ward, the question. which he had as
came to him, Does she like me?"
lie dared not trust himself to ask as
to love. While he was turning about
this to him startling suggestion, a
young farmer of the neighbOrhoOd
whom Carroll had often imagined to
be covertly fond of Martha cantered
down the road toward them. He
pulled up sharply, bowed to Carroll,
and directed to Martha few COM
monplace inquiries about her fam
lily, the crops, and the next party to
be given. Carroll thought he saw a
blush steal over her cheek as the
young man talked, and after he had
ridden on, half in jest but bit in
earnest, he asked il that were her
sweetheart. The blush mounted
higher as she denied it. Carroll I'M
reasoningly and jealousy insisted
that he was, and finally Martha
poutingly suggested that in any event
it was n matter that did not concern
him. The clouds had fallen. Carroll
had had his question answered.
At supper he announced to his host
that his health was now fully re-
gained and that an urgent letter
from home would take him away the
following morning. Mr.. and Mrs.
Rankin expressed regret. Martha
coldly said she was sorry, and con-
tinued the meal in silence.
That night Carroll retired early to
his room, but not to sleep. His pride
was deeply hurt, and he was indig-
nant. He called himself idiot"
and other pleasant things. "She
didn't have the heart to say she was
sorry, Love! Bosh!"
Finally, putting on light over
coat, he started for walk upon the
pike. 1t was near midnight when he
turned again into the little valley.
The long walk had fatigned him, and
the night air cooled his heated brain.
The full light of the moon was OBJ
scured by mist which rose from the
river and spread over the valley.
The mansion was dark. The world
was asleep. The brooding silence of
the night was broken now and then
by the distant cry of fox hound,
the low neigh of horse, or the tin
kle of a sheep bell.
"Clackety-clack! clackety-clack!"
There was borne in on CAROLS ears
the distant sound as of a galloping
horse upon the turnpike. Could it
be the phantom of Aunt Dinah's
story? "Clackety-clack!" The horse
was coming nearer. An atmosphere
of mystery that now seemed all
dDOut MIN lOTCCu thC thouShe ihto
being. The forgotten tale sprang
wildly into Carroll's mind, and he
felt the chill of the unearthly creep
over him. Sweethearts had quar-
relied! The phantom rider was due!
Bang! Crash! Crash! and Carroll
saw wildly speeding horseman fash
across the bridge and come up the
road toward him with uncontrolled
gait.
Carroll, forgetting all of the i'm
probability of the tale, ran to the
roadside and tried to scale the stone
fence. But it was too high for him
to scale in his nervous condition, and
he crouched against it, his eyes glued
upon the ever-advancing figure. 1t
Numbered along. Now it was al
most upon him. A vision of n horse
of thoroughbred build, with foam
flying from it's mouth. with tanks
heaving, and of darkly clad rider
with gaze fixed ahead, cloud of
dust, sound of distant hoof beats,
and Carroll, completely cowed, fled
toward the house. There he saw
lights were moving uneasily about.
On the veranda he met Martha,
strangely pale.
He clasped her in his arms and
whispered: 81 won't go home to-
morrow."--N. Y. Times.