The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1906-11-16
rpeat % me. 90 on, Oh. pl.a.. %

(spcak 30 me- Go on, oh. please II
on"
He made no reply, but his glance o.
cold inquiry travelled from her to the
yet writhing snake, and back again. Tt
the disdainful feproach of his manner
she fastened to say: Yes, know vol
saved mel am not ungrateful, but
oh, mol can't forget"
Winslow was puzzled and not 6
little angry. Was the girl crazy? He
was tempted to leave her and return
to the Inn He was tired. the dew
fell heavily, and his wound-not YET
healed, was aching He was in nc
mood for rustic coquetry nor maiden
caprice. But the lane was lonely, sun
set clouds were now bank of black
ness in fast darkening sky; he ought
not to 60 without the offer, at least
of escort. So, curbing his impatience
he said: pray explain; you cannot
| forget-what?"
Her voice sank to an awed whisper
as she replied: THAT night in the
forest; your face-and, and his"
In flash it occurred to him that
she alluded in some mysterious way
to the night Of his struggle In the
wood. How much did she know? 1t
could scarcely be less than his own
knowledge of the affair, and so he told
her. II presume you are speaking OF
the night when l was attacked, but l
did not see you. In fact" and he
shrugged his shoulders, I'm afraid my
wits were wool-gathering, for saw no.
body, until the man sprang at me-"
With a quick impulse to shield her
dead, she said: Father did not know it
was you"
Horror and surprise were blended in
his tone: Your father? Then it
was"
Susan Miller lowered her head I'M
til the sunbonnet hid her face. Mis-
understanding her silence and shrink
ing, Winslow spoke lightly: THAT
need not prevent your accepting cour-
tesy at my hands. I bear no ill-will,
l assure you"
Her eyes dilated with scorn, and she
seemed a woman now, as she faced
him proudly: you can talk so calmly
about it; you who killed him!"
Her words cut the air like knife,
and his wound panied afresh with the
sting Of it. Steadying himself with
an effort: I'm afraid l don't under
stand you," he said. Your father
was my assailant in the forest, and you
say l killed him"
Her silence gave consent, and he
continued, quietly: There is some
mistake; l did not kill him"
She repeated his words slowly, as
if learning a lesson. You did not kill
him." There was more conviction
than query in her tone, for she believed
him already. And then, as belief in
him came, another suspicion fastened
upon her like a nightmare.
She listened, stock still, while he
told her all he knew, adding: my only
weapon was a pistol, which l could not
reach, had l wished to use it. You
heard no shot fired?"
She shook her head, and he went on:
you must believe me, then. The
last sight l recall was the flash OF
steel in your fathers hand"
He stood in deep thought for mo-
ment, then: "They all think me guilty,
l suppose?"
She bowed, but before he could speak
fastened to say: you need not be
alarmed, sir. None will think the less
of you; my poor father had no friends"
There was bitter shame and sorrow
in the short sentence, and Winslow's
heart stirred with pity. There were
many things he wanted to ask-why
her father had assaulted him, a harm
less stranger, how she happened to be
present, and other questions which
might bring light upon the coil of I'M
certainty. But he would not further
hurt this orphan girl. 1T is no won
der you shrank from a hand you
thought stained with your fathers
blood, but" and he leaned gently
toward her, but you will take it now. )"
She laid her soft palm in his with
out a word. Through her simple mind
ran a thousand thoughts which her
tongue had no power to utter. She
saw his generosity, and was grateful
for this mama of kindness in her
starved life. But only the pressure of
her hand revealed her feelings-only
the look in her eyes that, like the
fawn's of her own wild wood, told
much for lack of speech.
ct is growing late; do you live
far?"
"Yonder at the end of the lane.
Then let us haste, or see, Charles
Vain wilf be there before u.s.
On they went through the sweet
scented night; the narrow way seemed
hemmed in by tree and bush and
creeping ivy that begrudged to man
even this tiny path.
Little was said by either Sues
thoughts were busy. She was sad
dened by the brooding fear that had
oppressed her since first she knew this
man was not her fathers murderer.