Highland recorder. (Monterey, Highland County, Va.) 1877-1972, 1903-06-05
CHAPTER VI.

line next evening lncy are ali out on Tie
velvety sward. The last glimpse Of dag
Is gone. Deaths twin-siSter Sleep" has
fallen upon the earth. One by one the
sweet stars come out in the dusky vault
above, "sprit-likc, infinite" In amongst
the frs that stand close together in
huge clump at the end Of the lawn, great
shadows are lying that, stretching ever
and ever further, form at last link be-
tween the land and the sea.
"Ah! here you are, Stephen" says Sir
Mark, addressing the languid young man
they had met in the morning, who is COM
Ing to them across the grass. why
didn't you come sooner"
'"rhey wouldn't give me any dinner un-
til about an hour ago." says the languid
young man in a subdued voice He glances
from Portia to Julia Beaufort, and then
to Dulce. There his glance rests. 1t is
evident he has found what he seeks.
"Dulce, l think l told you Stephen
Cover was coming tonight" says Roger.
simply. And then Dulce rises and rustles
up to him, and, filed with the determina
ton to ap sacred a promise she had
made to be particularly nice to Rogers
friend, holds out to him q very friendly
hand and makes him warm welcome.
Then POrtia makes him a little bow,
and Julia shippers at him, and presently
be finds himself accepted by and admitted
to the bosom of the family, which, indeed.
Is a rather nondescript one. After few
moments Of unavoidable hesitation he
throws himself at Dulce's feet, and, lean
Ing on his elbow, tells himself country
life, after all, isn't half bad thing.
"What heavenly night it is" says
Dulcc, smiling down on him. Perhaps
she is hardly aware how encouraging her
smile can be. "See the ocean down
there" pointing with rounded, soft,
bare arm, that CLEANS like snow in the
moonlight, to where the sea Is shining be-
tween the trees. How near it seems,
though we know it is quite far away"
at is nearer to you than | am" says
Mr.. Cover, in a tone that might imply the
idea that he thinks the ocean in better
case than himself.
"Well, not just now" says Dulce,
laughing.
"Not just now" returns he echong her
laugh. 81 suppose we should be thankful
for small mercies; but | wish the Fens
was little nearer to this place that it is"
"Portia can you see Inca's Cliff from
thisT' asks Dulce looking at her cousin,
"You remember the spot where we saw
the little blue flowers yesterday, that you
SO coveted. How clearly it stands out
now beneath the moonbeams."
"Like FURNISHED silver" says Portia,
dreamily, always with a lazy motion
waiting her black fan to and fro. "And
those fowers-how l longed for them,
principally, suppose, because they were
beyond my reach"
"Where are they?" asks Roger. 81
never remember seeing blue flowers
there"
ooh! you wouldn't notice Them" says
his fance, a fine touch OF petuanCe IN
her tone that makes Cover lift his head
to look at her; "but they were there, ncy'
ertheless. They were the very color OF
the Alpine gentian, and so pretty. We
quite fell in love with them, Portia and
l, Portia especially; but we could not get
them, they were so low down."
"There was tiny ledge we might have
stood on" says POrt;a, "bat our courage
failed us, and we would not try it,
"And quite right, too" says Sir Mark
VI detest people who climb precipces and
descend cliffs. 1t makes my blood run
cold"
"Thcn what made you climb all those
Swiss mountains two years ago!' asks
Julia Beaufort, who has talent for say
Ing the wrong thing, and who has quito
forgotten the love affair that drove Sir
Mark abroad at that time.
81 don't know" replies he, calmly; 81
Fever shall, suppose. ] perfectly hated
It all the while, especially the guides, who
we're more like assassins than anything
else. think they hated me, too, and
would have given anything to pitch me
over some of the passes"
Portia laughs.
81 can sympathize with you" she says
Danger of any sort has no charm fol
NE. Yet wanted those flowers. l think
-idly-"I shall always want them, simply
because | can't get them"
"You shall have then in three seconds
If you will only say the word" says Dicky
Browne, who is all but fast asleep, and
who looks quite as like descending a rug
sed cliff as Porta herself.
81 Am so glad don't know the " ord,''
says Portia, with little grimace. "l'
would be pity to endanger a valuable
life like yours"
Dulce turns to Mr.. Cover.
"You may smoke if you like" she says
swcetly-'I know you arc longing for
cigarette or something, and we don't
mind"
"Where is Fabian" she asks suddenly, |
,cering through the dusky gloom "Are |
sou there, darling"
Jsat no one answers her. 1t seems tc !
them that, firing of their company, he |
has taken himself TO solitude and the |
house once more. No one has seen him |
go, but, during the last few minutes, a |
gray-black cloud has been slowly wan. |
1ering over the palefaced moon, and |
forms and features have been more indis- |
tinct. Perhaps Porta, who is sitting on
The outer edge of the group, might have
noticed his departure, but if so, she says
nothing of it.
Time runs on. Some one yawns, and
then tries vainly to turn it into a sigh.
The bell from some distant steeple in the
little slumbering village far below in the
plain tolls slowly, solemny, as though to
warn them that eleven more hours have