The Breckenridge news. (Cloverport, Ky.) 1876-1955, 1908-02-12
Kenn EerrnN.

man. He'd kill her. l mean 1t, Kemp.
He would literally kill her with grief.
She isn't like Leila Mortimer; she isn't
like most girls of her sort. You men
think her rather stunning, highly
tempered unreasonable young girl,
with a reserve of sufficiently trained
intelligence to marry the best our mar
ket offers-and close her eyes-a thor
oughbred with the caprices of one, but
also with the grated instinct for prop
er mating"
"Well, that's all right, isn't it?" ask
ed Ferrall That's the way size her
up. Isn't it correct?"
Yes. in a way. She has all the ex-
pensive training of the thoroughbred
and all the ignorance too. She is cold
blooded because wholesome, a trifle
skeptical because so absolutely un-
awakened She never experienced a
deep emotion. Impulses have intoxi
Gated her once or twice. But-but If
ever a man awakens her--I don't care
who he is-you'll see girl you never
knew, a brand new creature emerge
WIN AuC ltlbA AdSo anu AaNNo VI NOh
tionality dropping from her, q woman,
Kemp. heiress to every generous i'm
pulse. every emotion, every vice, every
virtue of all that brilliant race Of
hers."
You seem to know" he said, anus
ed and curious.
II know. Major Belwether told me
that he had thought of Howard as an
anchor for her. 1t seemed a pity
Howard with all his cold, heavy mega
tive inertia. | said I'd do it. did
And now l don't know. l wish, almost
wish hadn't"
What has changed your ideasT"
II don't know. Howard is safer than
Stephen Siward, already in the first
clutches of his master vice. Would
you mate what she inherits from her
mother and her mothers mother with
what is that poor boys heritage from
the Siwards?"
She held her horse to a walk, rid
ing forward, grave, thoughtful, pre-
occupied tn a new problem, only
part OF which she had told her hus-
band.
For that night she had been awaken
ed in her bed to find standing beside
her white, wide eyed figure, SILVER
ing, limbs a-chlll beneath her clinginT
lace. She had taken the pallid visitor
to her arms and warmed her and
soothed her and whispered to her,
murmuring the thousand little words
and sounds, the breathing magic moth
ers use with children.
Driven she knew not why, Sylvia
had crept from her room In search of
the still, wPrm, fragrant nest and the
whispered reinsurance and the caress
she had never before endured. Yes
now she craved 1t, invited 1t, longed
for safe arms around her, the hover
Ing hand on her hair. Was this Syl-
via?
And Grace Ferrall, clearing her
sleepy eyes, amazed, incredulous of the
cold, childlike hands upon her Shout
ders, caught her in her arms with a
little laugh and sob and drew her to
her breast, to soothe and caress and re-
assure, to make up to her all she could
Of what is every child's just heritage.
And for a long while Sylvia, lying
there, told her nothing-because she
did not know how-merely a word,
restless question half ashamed, barely
enough to shadow forth the something
stirring her toward an awakening in
4 new world.
And at length, gravely, innocently,
she spoke of her engagement and the
worldly possibilities before her, Of the
man she was to marry and her new
and unexpected sense Of loneliness In
bis presence now that she had seen
him again after months.
She spoke presently OF Siward,
fugitive question or two offered indir-