The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-03-14

hear something of the talk of the town.
and that says
THAT says ] struck him without suffl-
cient cause. am content to let ii stand So
Nay, but you should not be content. Is
there not strife enough i'm this unhappy
land without these causeless bickeringsg
Here was my lady turned preacher all in
a breath and / with no words TO answer
her. But could not let IL go thus.
"I knew Sir Francis Falconnet in Eng
land" said /. hoping by this to turn her
safe aside.
..Ahi then there was cause. Tell it me-"
Nay. that may not.
Though she was hurting me sorely In the
wound dressing, and knew IL, she laughed.
tbs most ungallant to deny lady, sir.
But | shall know without the telling; twas
about a woman Tell me. Captain Ireton,
Seeing that her mood had changed again
/ tried to give her quip for jest. but what
with the pain of the sword thrust and the
sweet agony Of her touches 1 could only
set my teeth against a groan. She went
on drawing the bandagings, little heedful
how she racked me, 1 thought, and yet
when all was done she stood beside me all
OF a tremble as any tender-hearted woman
might.
There" she said; "'tis over for a time,
and l make no doubt you are glad enough.
NOW you have nothing to do save TO lie
quiet till ii heals"
And how long will that be, think you?"
I'VE shall see; long time, hope. You
snail be punished properly for your hot
temper / promise you, Captain Ireton."
With that she left me and went to stand
In the window bay. and from lying mouse
still and watching her over-steadily L fell
asleep again. When / awoke the day was
in its cleaning and she was gone.
After this saw her no more for six full
Greetings or the clock hands, and grew fair
famished for sight of her sweet face But
to atone she some messenger of Richard
Jennifer's brought me my faithful Darius,
and he IL was who fetched me ny food and
drink and dressed my wound. From him L
CLEANED that the master of Appleby Hun
dred had returned from Queensborough,
and that there were officers in red coats
continually going back and forth. always
with a hearty welcome from Gilbert Stair.
Now, though the master Of my stolen
thought he had still less to fear me; so it
seemed passing strange that he came not
once to my bedchamber to pass the time
of day with his unbidden guest or to ask
other things. reckoned without my enemy
though might have known that Sir Fran
els would be oftenest among the relocated
officers coming and going.
But stranger than this or than my lady's
continued avoidance of me was the lack
of visit from Richard Jennifer. Know
ing well my dear lads loyalty 10 the pa
triot cause, 1 could only conjecture that
he had finally broken Margerys enforced
truce to go and join Mr.. Rutherford's
militia, which, as Darius told me, was rally
ing 10 attack Tory stronghold at RAM
sour's Mill.
With this surmise was striving to con-
day when Mistress Margery burst in upon
me. bright-eyed and with her cheeks aflame.
Captain Ireton, 1 will know the true
cause of this quarrel, which, failing in
she cried. WAS it not enough that you
should get yourself half slain without send
ing this headstrong boy to his death?''
Now, in all my surmisings / had not
thought of this, and truly If she had sought
far and wide for a whip to scourge me with
she could have found no thong to cut so
deep.
God help met I groaned. HAS this
fend incarnate killed my poor lad?'
mo. he is not dead" she confessed, re-
| lenting little. ''But he has the baronet's
bullet through his sword arm for the sake
or your overseas disagreement with Sir
Francis"
rel with this villain was but the avenging
of poor Dick Coverdale's wrongs Richard
Jennifer's was for the baronet's affront to
her. So / bore the blame in silence, glad
enough to be assured that my dear lad was
only wounded.
''Why don't you speak, sir?' she snapped,
| flying out at me in passion for my lack of
words.
What should 1 say? 1 have not forgot
| that once you called me ungenerous.
You should defend yourself if you can.
| And you should ask my pardon for calling
my fathers guest hard names.''
THE last i will do right heartily. Twas
but the simple truth, but it was Ill spoken
| in your presence, Mistress Stair
| AT this she laughed merrily; and in all
my world wanderings 1 had never heard a
| sound gladstone as this sweet laugh of
| hers when she would be on the forgiving
hand.
Surely any one would know you are a
soldier, Captain Ireton. No other could
| make an apology and renew the offense so
| innocently In the same breath" Then her
mood changed again in the dropping of an
| eyelid and she sighed and said: Poor
| Dickv
| AS ever when she was with me, my eyes
| were devouring her; and at the sigh and the
| trembling OF the sweet lips in sympathy /
| found that curious love madness coming
upon me again. Then L saw that I must
straightway dig some chasm impossible be-
| tween this woman and me, as should hope
to be loyal to my friend. So 1 said: HE
| loves you well, Mistress Margery."
She glanced UP quickly with a smile
| which might have been hooking or loving;
/ 1 could not tell which il was.
did he make you his deputy to tell me
\ so, Captain Ireton?"
Now. L might have known that she was
| only Turing me on to some pitfall OF mock
| cry but / did not, and must needs burst
out in some clumsy disclaimer meant to
shield my dear lad. And in the midst of il
she laughed again.
"Oh, you do amuse me nightly, mon
| Capitaine," she cried. 81 do protest shall
come TO see you oftener. 'Tis as good as
| any play"
''Saw you ever play in this backwoods
| wilderness?' / asked. glad of any excuse
| to change the talk and keep her by me.
mo, indeed. But you are not to think