The Sauk Centre herald., 1908-08-27

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Claiborne?''
ut is, all of that" she replied 1t
seemed to her that the day had not
! needed Chauvenet's praise.
81 had hoped to see you later at the
Wallingford tea he continued.
"No teas for me on a day like this!
The thought of being indoors is tragic"
She wished that he would leave her.
for she had ridden out into the spring
did not appear to advantage in his
riding coat-his belongings were too
perfect. She had really enjoyed his
talk when they had met here and there
abroad. but she was in no mood for
him now. and she wondered what he
had lost by the transfer to America
He ran on airily in French. speaking
of the rush of great and small social
affairs that marked the end of the sea-
son.
"Poor Franzel is indeed triste. He
is taking the death of Johann Wilhelm
quite hard. But here in America the
death of an emperor seems less i'm
portant. A king or peasant. what
does it matter?"
"Retter ask the robin in yonder bud
ding chestnut tree, monsieur. This is
not an hour for hard questionsv'
"Ah, you are very cruel. You drive
me back to poor. melancholy FranZel
who is indeed funeral in himself"
THAT is very sad, monsieur" and
she smiled at him with mischief in her
eyes, "My heart goes out to any one
who is left to mourn-alone."
He gathered his reins and drew up
his horse, lifting his hat with perfect
gesture
There are sadder blows than losing
ones sovereign, mademoiselle" and he
shook his barred head mournfully and
rode back to find his friend
She sought now her favorite bride
paths, and her heart was light with
the sweetness and peace of the spring
as she heard the rush and splash of
the creek, saw the fash Of wings and
felt the mystery of awakened life
thr6bbing about her. The heart of a
girl in spring is the home Of dreams,
and Shirley's heart overfowed with
them until her pulse thrilled and sang
in quickening cadences.
The groom marveled at the sudden
changes of gait, the gallops that fell
abruptly to a walk with the alterna-
tions of mood in the girls heart. the
pauses that marked moment Of med
itation as she watched some green
curving bank or a plunge Of the mad
little creek that sent glory OF spray
Whitley into the sunlight. 1t grew late
and the shadows Of waning afternoon
crept through the park. The crowd
had hurried home to escape the chill of
the spring dusk. but she fingered on,
reluctant to leave. and presently left
her horse with the groom that she
might walk alone beside the creek in a
place that was beautifully wild. About
her lay narrow strip of young ma
Piles. and beyond this the wide park
road wound at the foot Of steep
wooded cliff. The place was perfectly
quiet save for the splash and babble of
the creek.
Several minutes passed. Once she
heard her groom speak to the horses,
though she could not see him, but the
charm of the place held her. She raised
her eyes from the tumbling water be-
fore her and looked off through the
maple tangle. Then she drew baci
quickly and clasped her riding crop
tightly. Some one had paused at the
farther edge of the maple brake and
dismounted, as she had, for more in
innate enjoyment of the place. 1t was
John Armitage, tapping his riding boot
idly with his crop as he leaned against
a tree and viewed the miniature valley.
He was little below her, so that
she saw him quite distinctly and
caught glimpse of his horse paving,
with arched neck. in the bride path
behind him. She had no wish to meet
him there and turned to steal back to
her horse when a movement in the
naples below caught her eye. She
paused. fascinated aud alarmed by the
cautious stir of the underground. r
The air was perfectly quiet; the dis
turbance was not caused by the wind