Mower County transcript., 1906-12-05

Lavender Creighto o|n|'s MS
Lovers
BY OLIVIA B. STROHM
Copyright, 1905, by Olivia B. Strohm).

that invited them by cheerful gurgle
Lavender sat on the mossy turf while
Winslow busted himself arranging the
lunch from hamper.
At the brookside he filed a leaf with
! water.
Drink" he commanded. "This is
the cup of Lethe! You need it with
that tragedy in your eyes,"
"Have we time to stay here and rest
a little?" she asked.
Winslow glanced at the sun. "He
has long to 1ravel," he said. "He will
light US for hours yet," and he threw
himself at her feet, while she said,
with light raillery: Il see you have
caught some of Cwatoga's tricks of
speech"
After a pause he said: "You are
cold to me today; you are not happy
with me- Won't you tell me why?'
She did not answer.
| Lavender" (and he fingered over
the name), 'Tell me why. Is this,
then, the time to hate?'"
| She looked into his eyes frankly.
NO." she said; mo, not a time to
hate That time will never come.
But it is time to talk A time to
think A time to be honest with N.Y.
self-and you."
Then she opened the bag which again
dangled at her waist, and from it drew
the yellow envelope.
Winslow gave an exclamation of dis
tressed annoyance, but said nothing.
"Then you recognize this?" and
there was naughty distrust again in
her manner.
II am sorry to say do. May ask
how it came in your possession?"
His manner, too, was cold and per-
emptory.
She did not reply, and he continued: !:
*The abominable mystery-for me-
surrounding that letter is bad enough
without your being mixed up in it
too; that 1 cannot bear"
| With flashing eyes she returned:
"It is true that this letter is none of
| my affair unless-unless we are to be
friends. If we are" her voice dropped
| lower, then surely I have the right
to know why she-that halt-Dreeu
| woman-wrote this?"
| She extended the letter toward him,
entreaty, reproach and scorn in her
! look and tone
Winslow took it calmly and, glanc-
| ing it over with an Indifferent air,
said: "She did not write it,
did not write it?" she repeated,
| vaguely.
"She did not. I have the best proof
! In the world. She cannot write at all"
Then, as she stared at him dunn
founded, he explained further: This
letter is forgery-written for what
purpose, Heaven alone knows. Its
only result was that, in total ignorance
| of the reason for my summons, or
| of whom I was going to meet, 1 came
to the place appointed-in time to re-
ceive a stab in the dark. Of course,
l was fool to go, but-well, you see
the note is urgent. For the sake of
one l love- the writer says"
He ended with a meaning look
straight into her eyes, which were
beginning to droop before the abso-
lutte honesty in his.
"The woman, Belle, has assured me
that she never sent me a message Of
any sort; the question is-who did,"
Who, indeed? A dreadful doubt was
fomenting in Lavenders brain, but she
persevered falteringly: But the girl
she who was in the woods that
night?"
He laughed. "Well, I suppose
must take everybodys word that there
was a girl there, but-well, l did not
see her. It is plain l did not have
my wits about me- By the way, 1 have
met her since; our estates join;" he
added, with mock dignity.
Already penitent, ashamed of ques-
tions which might seem at best a low
curiosity, at worst a foolish jealousy,
Lavender yet persisted: Then YOU
you did not know her before?"
"How could I have had that pleas
ure? You know that was my first ap
pearance in St. Charles. Rather an
inauspicious debut, wasn't it,"
Quickly over the girls mind flashed
the conversation she had heard at the
frolic; the gossip OF the ''branch-water
girl,'' and her "city BEAU"
In an attempt to make the crooked
straight, she repeated the talk to him
nov, concluding: None of the gossip
OF the city cavalier impressed me at
the time. but later. when I heard of
the meeting in the wood, it seemed rea-
sonable to think that-that you were
the man."
She faltered through this with an
apologetic blush, and for a moment
Winslow was silent.
Then: Reasonable?' he echoed.
my effort to please you has surely
| been in vain if you think it reason
able that I could stoop to secret trips
to st. Charles for the sly wooing of a
rustic maid.''