The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1903-07-04

home. She was thinking how pleasan
It would be to be the wife Of man lik
Enrol Hastings, and the mistress Of
place like HAZEL Court. He was speak
/ ing to her in low, earnest tones; an
as he passed the Farm did not turn t.
look for Winifred. And Winifred, sitting
under her favorite clump Of beeches
book in hand, looked with wistful eye
after them; and when he had passed gu
Of sight, without once turning to lool
for her. she hid her face in her hand
and cried bitterly.
..... CHAPTER III.
Poor Winifred! it was only the day
before that Enrol Hastings had sat will
her under those very beeches, and talked
to her in the low, fascinating tones pc
culiar to- him when addressing women
And she had fancied she read love in his
deep blue eyes. They had met more thar
once since the adventure in the wood
and he had always stopped to speak tc
her. And the previous day, as she had
been sitting reading in the garden, she
had heard the prancing hoofs, and, look
ing. up, had seen him pull up his fiery
chestnuts, which had frightened her SO
/
the reins to the groom, jump down and
enter the little gate.
| Winifred's heart beat fast as she saw
Mr.. Hastings coming up the garden to-
ward her.
II have come to call on Mr.. Eyre-is
he at homer" Enrol asked.
"No," replied Winifred; che has been
out since two o'clock, and do not ex-
pect him until the evening""
81 am sorry" Enrol had answered, look
ing In her face, as he always did now:
shut If you will allow me to make his
absence to-day an excuse for calling
again, shall not regret it too much
"Can l say anything to him for your"
asked Winifred.
~ am afraid not" Mr.. Hastings said,
smiling: sit is on a question of a new
method of farming, which I fear is too
abstruse for me to discuss with you. But
/ am interrupting your reading-is your
book very engrossingT
And as he spoke he glanced at the
cover of the book and observed with
some surprise that it was an old French
romance.
"Will you let me send you some books
to read?" Enrol asked, gently. 81 make
point of collecting all the best works,
both foreign and English, and it would
be such a pleasure to me to think some
one besides myself would take an in
terest in reading them"
ooh, how kind you arer' exclaimed
Winifred, eagerly, blushing with delight;
"it would be such a treat to have some
thing new to read"
Uha+ hnu a. bo9
history, novels, poetry, or theol-
Ogy? When you read Tennyson, look for
my favorite poem, 'Oenone;' l am sure
you will agree with me in admiring that.
Do you sometimes indulge in romance,
Miss Eyre?"
Sometimes" laughed Winifred. "Do
your"
EYES," said Enrol. II must plead gull
ty, although I am long past the age when
that youthful foible is permissible. But
when I am alone I like to sit and look
at beautiful landscape. until my very
power of vision Is absorbed in thought;
and like to go back centuries, and live
in the past ages, that from their wide
distance from US seem golden. Do you
ever fancy you would like to have been
one of the celebrities of the olden times
l should like to have been Alexander, and
conquered the world; or a I4eonidas, dy-
ing gloriously in battle; an undaunted
hero, like Alcibiades; an emperor, like
Caesar; Mark Antony, believed by
Cleopatra; or Launcelot, If you might
have been Gulnevere."
His voice had dropped while he was
speaking, and as he uttered the last SEN
tence In a low. thrilling whisper, his
eyes sought hers with a passionate ex-
preston Of admiration.
Winifred colored deeply, and the tone
Of her voice was naughty as she made
answer, looking far away int the woods:
II would not have been Guinevere to
the noblest Launcelot who ever breathed.
Had been chosen by such a godlike
knight as King Arthur. l think I could
have appreciated him too we'll to reuuite
his love with falseness."
Il beg your pardon, ought to have
remembered; but for the moment did
not think Of her falseness, l only recol-
lected that she was beautiful and charm
ing"
Enrol had never once taken his eyes off
Winifred's face while he had been speak
ing. And as he watched her, he thought
that of all the women he had ever known,
none had such sweet grace of womanli-
ness as this one. He rose suddenly to
flee the temptation.
Pardon my intrusion, Miss Eyre;
have detained you already too long"
And Enrol Hastings held out his hand
to her. She put her own timidly into it.,
and he clasped it for a moment with
strong, passionate clasp, looking into
her eyes the while with look that
brought the blood rushing to her face.
Then he turned slowly, and went back
to his phaeton, her eyes looking dreamily
into the distance. Her reverie was di-
verified by seeing a young farmer, Mr..
Tom Fenner, sauntering leisurely down
the road, hitting off the tops of the grass
viciously with his stick. She had seen
him pass, before, when she was talking
with Mr.. Hastings, and his presence an
noyed her. He came deliberately in at
the garden gate, and walked up to where
she sat.
Good afternoon, Miss Eyre" he said,
putting out his great coarse hand to her.
Il suppose I may come in now you are
disengagedT
Winitred was compelled to give him her