The Red Cloud chief., 1906-04-27

anl went to her room on tiptoe. The
house was very silent as she lit the
candles on her bureau. Outside the
gentle driZzle and the soothing tinkle
from the caves were the only sounds.
Within there was but the faint rustic
of garments from Mrs. Tanberry's
room. Presently the latter ceased to be
heard, and a wooden moan of protest
from the four poster upon which the
good lady reposed announced that she
had drawn the curtains and wooed the
rulers of Nod.
Although it was one of those nights
of which they say, 1T is n good night
to Sleep" Miss Betty was not drowsy.
She had half unfastened one small SAN
dal, but she tied the ribbons again and
seated herself by the open window.
Pcoring out INTO the dismal night, she
found her own future as black, and it
seemed no wonder that the sisters
loved the convent life: that the pale
nuns forsook the world wherein there
was so much useless unkindness, where
women were petty and jealous, like
that cowardly Fanchon, and men who
looked great were tricksters. like Fan.
chon's bctrothed. Miss Betty clinchcd
her delicate fingers. She would not re-
member that white, startled face
again.
Another face helped her to shut out
the recollection-that of the man who
had come to mass to meet her yester.
! day morning and with whom she had
taken a long walk afterward. He had
shown her a quaint old English garden
err who lived on the bank of the river,
had bought her a bouquet, and she had
helped him to select another to send to
a sick friend. How beautiful the flow
ers were and how happy he had made
the morning for her with his gayety,
his lightness and his odd wisdom! Was
it only yesterday? Her fathers COM
ing had made yesterday a fortnight
old.
But the continuously pattering rain
and the soft drip, drop from the roof,
though as mournful as she chose to
find them, began after awhile to weave
their somnolent spells, and she slowly
drifted from reveries of unhappy sorts
into half dreams, in which she was
still aware she was awake, yet Stun.
Der, heavy eyed, stirring from the cur
tains beside her with the small night
breeze, breathed strange distortions
upon familiar things, and drowsy i'm
possibilities moved upon the surface of
her thoughts. Her chin. resting upon
her hand, sank gently until her head
almost lay upon her relaxed arms.
THAT is mine, Crailey Gray"
She sprang to her feet, UNNECESSARILY
startled, II hand clutching the back
of her chair. the other TREMENDOUSLY
pressed to her cheek, convinced that
her father had stopped over her and
shouted the sentence in her ear. For
1t was his voice, and the house rang
with the words. All the rooms, halls,
and ever the walls, still seemed muir
murous with the sudden sound, like the
tinkling Of Il bell after it has been
struck. And yet-everything was quiet.
She pressed her fingers to her fore
head, trying to untangle the maze of
dreams which had evolved this shock
for her, the sudden clamOr in her IA
Tiers voice of Il name she hated and
hoped never to hear again, a name she
was trying to forget, but as she was
unable to trace anything which had
led to it there remained only the con-
clusion that her nerves were not what
they should be. The vapors having he
come obsolete for young ladies as an
explanation for all unpleasant sensa-
tons, they were instructed to have
nerves." This was Miss Betty's first
consciousness OF her own, and, desir-
ing no greater acquaintance with them,
she told herself 1t was unwholesome to
fall asleep in a chair by an open win
dow when the night was as sad as she.
Turning to a chair in front of the
small oval mirror of her bureau, she
unclasped the brooch which held her
lace collar and, seating herself, began
to unfasten her hair. Suddenly she
paused, her uplifted arms falling me-
chanically to her sides.
Some one was coming through the
long hall with a soft, almost inaudible
step, a step which was not her fathers.
She knew at once, with instructive GER
tainty, that 1t was not he. Nor was 1t
Nelson, who would have shulled; nor
could it be the vain Mamie, nor one Of
the other servants, for they did not
sleep In the house. 1t was a step more
like a woman's, though certainly 1t was
not Mrs. Tanberry's.
Betty rose, took a candle and stood
silent for a moment, the heavy tresses
of her hair, half Embossed, falling upon
her neck and left shoulder like the
folds Of a dark drapery.
At the slight rustic Of her rising the