Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1904-12-01

the road divided. one branch pursuing
its course along the river bank past
the ~boathouse toward the Talbot place.
the other turning inland from the river
and winding about till ii surmounted
the high bluff and reached the door OF
the Hall. There Philip drew rein.
This is the way to the Hall. you
know, Captain Seymour" he said.
pointing to the right. Seymour hesi
tated a moment and said finally:
"Yes, | know. The b~oathouse lies
over there. does II not. beyond the
turn? | think | will let you go up to
the house alone, Philip, and | will go
down to the boathouse myself. | will
ride back presently"
swell then. l will go with you" said
Philip. II really think you are too
weak, you know, especially after our
long ride today. to go alone"
"No, Philip" said gently.
II wish to be alone for a few mo
ments.'
The boy hesitated.
"Oh, very WELL" he said. beginning
to understand. Il will sit down here on
this tree by the road and wait for you.
I'll tie my horse, and you can leave
yours here also II you wish. There Is
nothing at the Hall, God knows. to
make me hurry up there now. since
fatdais and Katharine are gone he
continued. with a sigh. Go on. sir.
I'll wait. You won't mind my wait.
ing?"
mo; certainly not. IL you wish IL. !
shall be back in a few minutes any
way. l just want to see the-the-ah-
boathouse. you know"
Eyes, certainly. ] understand. OF
course" replied Philip bluntly. but
carefully looking away, and then dis
mounting from his tired horse and as
sisting Seymour to do the same from
his.
Poor oil fellow',' he murmured rs
he saw the man walk haltlngly and
painfully up the road and disappear
around the little bend.
Left to himself. Seymour stumbled
alone along the familiar road ver
which a few short months before he
had travelled light heartedly by the
he noticed a man leave the ~boathouse
and climb slowly up the hill. DESTROYS
of escaping the notice OF the stranger.
who, he supposed, might be the factor
or agent OF the plantation. he waited
in the shadow of the trees until the
man disappeared over the brow of the
hill, and then he staggered on. A short
time after he stood on the landward
end Of the little pier, and then his
heart stood still for q second and then
leaped madly in his breast as he seem
ed to hear a subtle voice, like an echo
of the past. which whispered his name.
Seymour, Seymour"
Stepping toward the middle of the
pier so that he could see the interior
Of the boathouse through the inner
door, his eyes fell upon the figure Of
a woman standing in the other door
way looking out owe the water,
stretching out her hands. The sun had
set by this time. and the gray dusk
Of the evening was stealing over the
river. He could not see distinctly. but
there was light enough to show him a
familiar scarlet cloak at her feet. and.
although her back was turned TO him,
he recognized the graceful outlines Of
her slender figure. 1t was Katharine
or a dream. But could the dead re
turn again? Had the sea given up
her dead indeed?
He could not believe the evidence of
his bewildered senses. 1t might be
a hallncination. the baseIess fabric Of
a vision. some image conjGred from
the deep recess of his loving heart by
his enfeebled. disordered imagination.
and yet he surely had heard a living
voice, "Seymour-John-Oh, my lover
Sitting the beating Of his heart, hold
ing his breath even, stepping softly
lest he should alright the airy vision.
he staggered to the door and stood
gazing; then he whispered one word:
"Katharine!'
1t vas only a whisper she heard. but
II reached the very center Of her being.
"Kathariner' he said, softly again,
with SO much passionate entreaty in
his wistful voice that under its COM
pelling influence she slowly turned and
looked toward the other door from
whence the sound had come. Then as
she saw him, lifting one hand to her
head while the other unconsciously
sought her heart. she shrank back