The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1909-10-14


Her maid would be downstairs, and
she might change her dress and get to
the station in time for late train. She
could get her own old trunks at the Me-
tropole, and by this time tomorrow she
would be leaving Southampton for st.
Malo.
No sooner had she reached her room
than she had flung off her evening dress
and shoes, and proceeded to get herself
into heavier things. Her own jewelry
and the bank-notes, which by some queer
provision she had Of late always kept by
her, were showed into a small bag-then
her furs, and she was ready.
If orlv Stewart did not come now.
She opened the door and looked out. The
door Of his room opposite was open and
a light burning.
With an uncomfortable desire, she loi-
tered and went in. His glove was lying
on the table where he had flung it down.
She caught it up and hid it in her dress,
and then cautiously crept down to Q side
door.
But for her, she thought. and the mad
scheme. which he must despise her for
ever listening to, he might have done
what he would evidently have wished to
do, married Nellie, and settled down to
the life that was familiar to them both.
He might have seen an heir grow up to
replace the boy whom he had lost.
Il have spoiled his life !" she moaned
as she hurried on.
A rush of cold air. and the purply gray
darkness Of the night, grayer for a moon
which was yet hidden by clouds. AS
she was closing the door there was. a soft
scurry and rush behind her, and the Irish
terrier Nomad jumped ON her, whining
with delight.
Hush, Nomad, hush. ~ she whispered,
as she drew the door to, and then. with
that one bit of faithful love, her calm
was broken, and crouching on the terrace
steps. while sobs shook her body, she drew
| Nomad into her arms, and let him put
his paws upon her shoulders and lick
her face
I;-morrow she meant to wire Stewart
/ rom London; meantime her whole
strength was set on getting away without
notice And so, wiping away the tears
she rose, and, with one last look up at
the lighted windows, turned to a path
that led across the park to the woods
and thence to the little station.
The dog frisked cheerfully round her,
and il Mathilde had been walking for
pleasure she would have enjoyed the soli-
tude Of the winter night, so still that the
| intense frost was scarcely felt. But ANA
| teur solitude, taken up and dropped at
| will, is very different from a solitude
which leaves all that one values in life
| behind In the surrounding gloom and
mystery. she seemed to be walking in the
midst of dead world, from which Gods
| face was hidden, from which human love
and faith and friendship were forever
| gone.
Under ordinary circumstances, it would
not have tired her to have walked the
!. distance which she had already accom-
| plished, but she had been skating all that
afternoon, and felt, too, the stress of the
agitation through which she had passed.
She had thought her small bag a mere
trife to carry, but it began to seem much
heavier, and her long sealskin coat was a
garment more fitted for driving than
walking.
The path now led down hill, where win
ter rains had worn a channel, leaving
slipped on them, and recovered herself,
but the third time she was less fortunate,
and went down helplessly her full length.
Faint and sick from the fall. she lay
| without trying TO move: but even then
she knew that she had hurt herself, and
when she made the first motion to get up,
the knife-like pain in her knee showed
her she was helpless.
The pain brought a momentary faint
ness, but Nomad's low whines as he
licked her face aroused her, and, gather
ing all her strength, she worked herself
into sitting position where she could
get her back against a tree. 1t was all
that she could do.
She was there, powerless to help her
self. and, unless aid came soon, she would
be frozen to death. She had heard that
the end came peinlessly; perhaps ii
would be the best way out of it all.
A strange fantasy came over Der, OF
the poem where the dying girl directs her
corpse to be carried back and set at her
lovers door:
Look on me with thine own calm look
/ meet it calm as thou.
No look of thine can change my smile,
| Or still its calmness now"
But already the cold was beginning to
creep through her wraps, and the con
straint of her position made the numb
ness of her feet painful; every part OF
her body ached, and she longed for the
dreaminess that would be the beginning
of the end. Twice she heard church
clock chime out, and she wondered il
there had been any search made for her
They would hardly leave a lost dog tc
die uncared for on such a night, she
thought bitterly.
She tried to fix her mental vision on
center of light and glory from which the
ineffable face of the Man-God looked our
in welcome, but again she had wanderet
back to the thought of Stewart gazing up
on her dead face. She must try that il
should be calm and smiling at the last
Here, Nomad, here!' she said, ant
her hoarse voice sounded awesome t.
herself. AS the dog crouched close tC
her, she drew her handkerchief from hel
pocket, and felt with her bare hands Il
find IL there were monogram worked
on it. Better still, she could tell by the
outline that II was one that had Ma
thilde" worked on 1t In full.
She knotted it as firmly as her numI
fingers could manage to the dogs collar
and then, pointing up the band, said a,
clearly as she was able: "Hie on home
HE on ~ But, although the dog rar
some distance, he still returned to hovei
around her, and she had no strength fol-
another effort Her mind was now fal
away ia shildhood's haunts at home, ant
! ones sAs whispered Mother !" Her head
fell back against the tree, and Nomad sa
beside her, making the woods echo will
his long, slow bowls.
Meanwhile, these hours that were sucf
long agony to Mathilde had been event
full ones at the house. There had nevel
been but one person at Orkwell who haC
witnessed one of Mrs. Herbert's outbursi
of temper, and he, her husband, was deaf
The servants stood aghast as she whirleC
past.
Poor old Sir lanes waiting for hi