Martinsburg statesman. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1869-1906, 1905-07-07

Tor the coming OF Rafe In time for
her TO prepare him for Alines advent,
saw the old man driving at rate that
bespoke something wrong. Every drop
of blood had deserted her cheeks by
the time the old man was near
enough to be questioned.
where is Mr.. Leveridge, Munson?
Why are you driving the chestnuts?"
Il left him back yonder at the cross
roads, missus, and"
Doing what?"
Just waitin, seemed like"
Waiting for what?"
81 don't know missus. This poor old
head of mine is all awhirling with
it. The Leveridge men-folks is surely
hard to keep up with. Mebbe this
will clear it up
Mona seized the envelope he ex-
tended. In another moment Horaces
biting words had scorched themselves
upon her brain. She made step for
ward. stopped and pressed her hands
over her eyes in paroxysm of physi-
cal terror. Could she do it? She must
All bareheaded and ungloved as she
was, she sprang into the drag and
gathered the long reins in her slight,
unframed hands. Munson, who had
dismounted to deliver the note, sprang
to the brutes' heads and laid a de-
tanning grasp on their brides.
"Missus, missus, what are you
thinking of doing? They'll kill you,
my sweet mistress. They is all fret
ted out with excitement now. Don't
leave the old man behind, missus"
She planted her little feet rigidly
against the dashboard. Her dinner
gown of shimmering silk glistened in
the sunshine.
Doubtless they would kill her. She
rather expected it, but she must reach
the crossroads first-before Rafe
Stillman got there.
Horace Leveridge, standing face to
face with the man whom he had pitt
lessly insulted into an agreement to
settle the matters there and then, saw
a glttering spectacle advancing upon
them with the speed of well-aime
arrow.
Horace my husband, are you mad?
stop Let me explain"
AS she drew rein or tried to curb
the excited animals he cast a bitter
look at her.
THE time for explanations has gone,
Mrs. Leveridge. Perhaps you may as
well witness the contamination of
your own work"
He lifted his gun resolutely to his
shoulder Stillman as resolutely
grounded his Murder was about to
be committed before her eyes. With a
strenuous turn of her delicate wrists.
which left them powerless to further
action, Mona brought the horses
heads about just in time to intercept
the bullet aimed at Stillman's heart
1t went crashing through the back of
the vehicle Leveridge had never
once loosed his touch upon the trig-
ger.
With wild snorts of terror the mad
dened chestnuts swerved and dashed
out of sight The reins fell from
Mona's helpless hands. She sank to
the bottom of the drag. Her destruc-
tion was a matter of mere minutes.
Perhaps seconds. She felt strangely
Indifferent to everything. Only she
wanted not to suffer very long.
Rescue was impossible, and she
knew it, She opened her eyes and
gaZed heavenward, prayerfully. There
was so much she would like to undo if
she had time. She was not praying.
There was no time left for prayer A
black winged bird in a turquoise sky
was the one object her falling senses
grasped.
Perhaps, after all, she was escaping
long, weary years of a hopeless strug-
gle to adjust the unadjustable. How
little it all mattered now? How far
away, how small, how unreal the
world, trouble, hope, disappointment
1t was something like getting to the
end of a tiresome story which present
ly she would forget all about.
The chestnuts paused for a second
on the brook side. A violent down
ward plunge-space seemed suddenly
to envelop their rushing feet, The
world reeled. The busy brain stop
ped like a rudely Jared watch spring.
Two small, white hands were stretch
ed despairingly to grasp at something
anything.
The ashen tints of November en-
wrapped the woods where Horace
Leverdge had invited his doom. Aline
Register still fingered at Leyeridge
Hall a loving ministrant to its wild
owed mistress. But RATE was waxing
impatient and she must tell Mona
that her wedding day was fixed. She
kneeled by her friends lounge.
Mona, you once said you had
wronged me because Rates. fancy
/ strayed toward you, small blame to
him. dear How can | ever ask your
pardon for all l have innocently
brought upon your
Mona laid a silencing finger upon
the girls lips.
1T was not your fault. 1t was not
mine. My poor Horace! l am glad he