The Red Cloud chief., 1905-02-18

49, ''N' htht "'S iuS Stltpttl y
"Serenade" across the way touched
him with the urgent personal appeal
that u present beauty had always held
FOR him. Ii was u soprano and without
tremolo. yet came to his ear with a
certain trpmulous sweetness. II was
soft and slender. but the listener knew
II could be lifted with ~fullncss aud
power IL the singer would. II spoke
only Of the song. yet the listener
thought Of the singer. Under the
moon thoughts run into dreams. and
he dreamed that the owner of the
voice. she who quoted "The Walrus
and the Carpenter OH Fisbec's notes.
was n to laugh with you and weep
with you. yet her laughter would be
tempered with sorrow and her tears
with laughter.
When the song was ended he struck
the rail he leaned upon a sharp blow
with his open hand. There swept over
him a feeling that he had stood precise.
ly where he stood now on such n night
a thousand years ago; had heard that
voice and that song and been moved by
the voice n the song and the night
just ms he was moved now. He had
long known hiEsclf for u sentimental.
tst. He had almost given up trying to
cure himself. And he knew himself
for n born lover. He had always been
In love with some one. In his earlier
youth his affections had been so con-
stantly incOnstant that he finally came
TO settle with his self respect by rec
ogtlizing in himself II fine conStancy
that worshipcd one woman always. II
was only the shifting image of her that
changed. Somewhere Che dreamed.
whimsically indulgcnt of the fancy,
yet hooking himself for it, there was Il
girl whom he had never seen who wait.
cd till he should come. She was every.
thing. Until he found her he could not
help adoring others who possessed lit.
tie pieces and suggestions of hcr-hcr
~briIliancy, her courage. her short uppcr
lip. like II curlcd rose leaf or her
dear voice or her pure profile. He had
no recollection of any lady who had
quite her eyes. He had never passed
a lovely stranger on the street In the
old days without Il thrill Of delight and
warmth. If he never saw her again
and the vision had only lasted for the
time it takes a lady TO cross the side.
walk from a shop door to a carriage
he was always n little i'm love with her
because she bore about her somewhere.
as did every pretty girl he ever SAY
a suggestion of the PARKWAY divinity.
One does not pass lovely strangers in
the streets of Plattville. Miss Briscoe
was pretty. but not ut all In the way
that Harkless dreamed. For five years
the lover in him that had loved so Of
ten had been starved of all but dreams.
Only at twilight and dusk in the sum-
mer, when strOlling he caught sight of
q wOman's skirt far up the village
street. half outlined I'm the darkness
under the cathedral arch of meeting
branches. this rOmanccr of p%ctticoats
could sigh II true lovers sigh and, il
he kept enough distance between. fly n
yearning fancy that his lady wandered
there.
Ever since his university days the
image of her had been growing more
INT more distinct. He had completely
settled his mind as to her appearance
and her voice. She was tall. almost too
tall, he was sure of that; and out of
his consciousness there had grown n
sweet and y~ivacious young face that he
knew was hers. Her hair was light
brown, with gold lustcrs (hc reveled i'm
the gold lusters on the proper theory
that when your fancy is painting a
picture you may as well go in for the
whole thing and make 1t sumptuOus).
and her eyes were gray. They were
very earnest, and yet they sparkled and
laughed to him cOmpanionably. and
sometimes he smiled back upon her.
The Undine danced before him through
the lonely years. on fair nights in his
walks and came to sit by his fire on
winter evenings when he stared alone
at the embers.
And tonight, here in Plattville. he
heard a voice he had waited for long.
one that his tickle memory told him he
had never heard before. But, listening.
he knew better-he had heard it long
ago though when and how he did not
know, as rich and true and -~ineffably
tender as now. He threw a sop to his
common sense. Miss Sherwood Is a
little thing" (the image was so surely
tall, with a bumpy forehead and spec.
tacles," he said to himself, "or else a
provincial young lady with big eyes to
pose at yOn." Then he felt the ridicu-
%lOusness Of looking after his common
ense on a moonlight night in June;
slaO, he knew that he lied.