Highland recorder. (Monterey, Highland County, Va.) 1877-1972, 1903-06-12
CHAPTER TX.


brings us Dulce's ball. The night is love-
ly and balmy as any evening IN the sum-
mer months gone by, though now Sep
TENDER shakes the leaves to their fall. In
the library the lamps are lowered. No
body has come downstairs yet, and the
footman, giving the last lingering touch
to the little sweet gossiping fire. that
warns them of winters approach, turns
to leave the room. On the threshold,
however, he stands aside to let Miss vi.
bart enter.
She is dressed in a white satin gown,
creamy in shade, and rather severe in its
folds. Some pale water-lilies lie upon it,
as though cast to it lovingly, rs if glad
to have found so soft a resting-place.
There is no flower in her hair, and no
jewels anywhere except the three rows
Of priceless jewels that clasp her slender
throat.
There is a disconnected line about her
mouth, wistful, restless expression in
her eyes. She moves slowly, toe, as If
gladness is far from her, and shows IN
every glance and movement a strange
amount Of languor. AS though her
aimlessly from place to place, and now,
rs If she is listening for something to
come: and again, as if she is trying to
make up her mind to take some step from
which she shrinks in secret. At last,
drawing her breath with a sudden quick
ness, born of determination, she opens n
drawer in a cabinet, and taking from it a
little volume she opens the library door,
and turning to the right, walks swiftly
down the corridor.
From out the shadow a figure advances
toward her, figure bent and uncomely,
that tries in vain to avoid the meeting
with her, and to get out of sight before
recognition sets in. 1t is the old man
Slyme, AS she sees him there returns to
Portia the memory CT many other times
when she has met him here in this corri-
dor, with apparently no meaning Tor his
presence. Some unaccountable and ut
terly vague feeling of dislike for this man
has been hers ever since she first saw
him. He is repugnant to her in remark
able degree, considering how little he has
to do with her life in any way.
''He seems to haunt this part Of the
house." she says to herself now, uncom.
fortably. IF l were Fabian / should
hate to know there was a chance Of meet
ing him every time 1 opened my door,"
When she has passed, the secretary
raises his eyes and watches her departing
form iurtively. There is great cunning
mixed with malignity and resentment
in his glance. He mutters something in
audible, that carries no blessing in its
tones, but yet, as though fascinated by her
beauty, he stands still and follows each
step she takes upon the polished oaken
flooring.
AS she stops it q particular door, his
whole face changes, and satisfied malice
takes the place Of resentment.
Even such pride can stoop," he NUT
tiers, with a half-drunken chuckle. "And
it is l. my fine lady-who can scarce
breathe when am by-that have power
to wiring your proud heart"
He turns, and shambles on toward his
own den. Portals steps have grown
slower as she gets nearer to the door be-
fore which Slyme has seen her stop. Her
eyes have sought the ground; all along the
floor her image may be seen, heightened,
but clear; almost with every step she
seems to tread upon herself. AS she
reaches the door she hesitates, and then
lifts her hand as If with the intention Of
knocking. But again she pauses, and her
hand drops to her side. AS if more ner
vous than she cares to own, she leans
against the Intel Of the door, as one
might, DESTROYS of support. Then the
weakness vanishes; fastening her teeth
upon her under lip she rouses herself,
and tapping gently but distinctly upon
one of the panels, awaits an answer.
Presently she gets it. "Come in," said
Fabian's voice. clear, Indifferent; and
slowly turning the handle she enters the
room. The lamps are alight; a fire is
burning in the CRATE. At the upper table
of this room, that is his study his very
sanctum sanctorum, Fabian is sitting
with some papers and books before him.
At first, being unconscious Of who his
visitor is, he does not lift his head, but
now, seeing her, he rises quickly to his
feet and says:
your in accents of the most acute
surprise. "Can do something for your
THANK you, no." Her little COLI hands
are nervously twined around the book she
holds. Speech has cruelty deserted her;
sob has risen in her throat, and she is
battling with it so fercely that for mo-
ment she can say nothing. Then she
and almost piteously she lays
the book upon the very edge Of the table
nearest her, and says with difficulty:
Il brought you this. At breakfast this
you said you had not read it;
and to. night l knew you would be alone
and | thought is The Europeans--it
might help you to while away an hour"
Her voice dies away, and again silence
follows it. She Is really frightened now.
She has met many men, has been the ac'
beauty Of London season,
has had great homage laid at her feet;
but no man has had the power to make
her heart weaken. until she met this man,
mon whom disgrace lies heavy. 1t is ks
net! She feels cold now, and miserable,
md humbled before him who should sure
v be humbled before her.
at was kind of you to think OF me,
avs Fabian, coldly; "too kind. But there
re some matters of importance l must
.ot through tonight, and fear snail
ot have time for fiction. ,.,,
She takes I'D the book again, the little
Instrument that betrays his determ'na-
ion ia accept no benefits at her hanus,
md moves toward the door, Coming
quickly ND to her, that he may open tne
door, ha Stand, between her and 1t, ano
stops her. A., ,..
CA ,ov ha saws. lei ut