Lewiston evening teller. [volume] (Lewiston, Idaho) 1903-1911, 1908-03-07
NO Rut Izean ana The mator~-

mo. Put Kemp ard the maferf
~ think tie major Is out cf danger.
replied Quarter hooking a. her with
the new', sul,en narrowing Of bis eyes
Il arr glad Of that Is Kemp-and
the others?"
"Ferrall could stand 1t If matters 60
wrong. What others?'
"Why--the other owners and stock
holders
what others? Who do you meanT'
"Mr. Siward. for example" she said
in an even voice, leaning over TO pat
her horses neck with her gIoved hand
"Mr Siward must take the chances
we all take" observed Quarter.
"But. Howard. 1t would really mean
ruin for him If matters went badly.
Wouldn't itT'
Il am not familiar with the details
Of Mr.. Siward's investments"
Nor am l." she said slowly
She spoke about other things He
responded in his impasslve manner.
Presently she turned her horse, and
Quarter wheeled his, facing a warm.
fine rain slanting thiclkly from the
south.
His silky Vandyke beard was all wet
with the moisture. She noticed it, and
unbidden arose the vision Of the gun
room at Shotover = Quarters soft
beard wet with rain. the phantoms of
people passing and requesting. Siward's
straight figure swinging past. silhou-
cited against the glare OF light from the
billiard room And here she made an
effort to efface the vision. shutting her
eyes as she rode there In the rain, but
clearly against the closed lids she saw
the phantoms passing specters of
dead hours. the wrath OF an old hap
piness masked with youth and wear
ing Siward's features!
She saw herself beside him among
the cushions; tasted again the rose
petals that her lips had stripped from
the blossoms; saw once more the
dawn of something in his steady eyes;
felt his arm about her, his breath
Her horse, suddenly spurred, bound
ed forward through the rain, and she
rode breathless, with her lips half part
ed, as If afraid, turning her head to
lock behind-as though she could out
ride the phantom clinging to her stir
rup, masked like youth, wearing the
shadowy eyes Of love!
An hour later, fresh from her bath,
luxurious in loose and filmy lace, her
small white feet shod with silk, she
lunched alone, Graded among the cush-
ions of her couch.
Twice she strolled through the rooms
leisurely, summoned by her maid to
the telephone, the first time to chat
with Grace Ferrall, who. it appeared,
was victim of dissipation, being still
abed, and out Of humor with the rainy
world the second time to answer In
the negative Marion's suggestion that
she motor to Lakewood with her for
the weeks end before they closed their
house.
Sauntering back again, she slipped
her milk and vichy, tasted the straw
berries, tasted big black grape, dis
carded both and lay back among the
cushions, her naked arms clasped be-
hind her head, and. dropping one knee
over the other, stared at the ceiling.
The room was very still and dim. but
the clamor in her brain unnerved her,
and she sat up among the cushions,
looking vacantly about her with the
blue, confused eyes, the direct, unsee-
Ing gaze of child reused by a half
heard call
The call--low, imperative, sustained
continued softly persistent against
her windows, the. summons of the
young years rain.
She went TO the window and stood
among the fllmy curtains, looking out
into the mist. A springlike aroma pen
etrated the room. She opened the
window a little way, and the sweet,
virile odor enveloped her,
A thousand longings rose within her.
Unnumbered wistful questions stirred
her, sighting, unanswered. Every breath
was drawing her backward, nearer,
nearer to the source of memory. All.
the cliff chapel in the rain! The words
OF a text numbled dealy-the yearly
service for those who died at sea. And
she. seated therp In the chapel dusk