Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1909-02-12

away, eIllT'I! ShliSllth Win Nv
, of his latest and kccnest insult.
The company had assembled in the sup
per room. a brilliant. noisy. happy look
ing crowd. The ladies were most OF them
already seated; the gentlemen standing
about, finding seats for themselves. or Tor
those Of the younger ladies who had been
either lettering on their way or holding
modcstly back.
Rourkr Trenham. coolly conversins
with half a dozen people round him, was
leading Una Gavcston to her seat. when
Horton Newley made his way up TO them,
and bending toward her. as she leaned on
Rourke's arm. spoke to be heard by the
crowd around her.
Miss Gaveston, pray allow me to apol-
ogize to you for disappointing you OF the
valse. An unexpected summons took me
away. | was indeed mortified to think
Of your having so vainly reserved it for
me, and am delighted to see that you have
allowed Mr.. Trenharn the privilege which
| appeared TO neglect. Nothing but bust
ness could have detained me-"
Il do not wonder business called you
away, Ncwley. / only wonder it allowed
you to come at all. There Is no more
stewards business to transact here to-
night. so yOu have permission TO retire
itourke had not raised his voice, but
the clear proud tones escaped very few
&c ~ in the room. For a minute the two
men gazed at each other, while Una,
nervous and frightened. pressed Rourke's
arm a~ppealingly then Newlcy broke the
pause with ready tact. though many OF
The bystaGdcrs Gould see what an intense
effort it was for him to speak with ease
and politeness.
II am come now to beg excuse for
my further absence, as well as to make
my apologies to Miss Gaveston."
He bowed, with a quiet Difference
which had no s~ervility in it, while even
those who would have scorned him If be
had stayed answered pleasantly the words
and action which seemed so modest. Then
he was gone, and Rourke felt a miserable
weight upon him which he could in no
way account for.
After this the ball went on undisturb-
ed to its close, with the laughter and the
heart-burning and the jealousy and the
pleasure which balls create. and will do
until the end of time.
When the last guest left Hohve the
dawn was softly touching the distant
hills. like a cool hand laid upon the brow
of the heated night, soothing and allay-
ing it's restless excitement. And Rourke
stood bareheaded on the steps r~eveling in
the pure. chill morning air.
you have n fine constitution, Tren-
ham, as you know, but you trihe with
it a little too daringly."
Those had been DR.. Vere's parting
" ords when he left him there without hat
or overcoat, heated from dancing, but,
though they came back to Rourke's mem
DRY, mixed with Una's loving farewell
he still stood there, leaning against
the old cannon looking on the dim, wide
park-every tree in which he loved with
a %c!inging, boyish love-and passing thus
rnconsciously through one of his painful
est farewells in the beauty and the mys-
terry of the dawn. And it may have
struck Rourke how much less sad this
farewell would have been if in the
home he was leaving there had been some
one to give to himself just such a wide,
warm love as he lavished upon the place
was to be his own one day.
The gray light on the horizon had
frightened into silver, and the breeze had
ost a little of it's first fresh purity when
Rourke turned and re-entered the house.
Half an hour afterward he left it by a
side door. dressed for riding.
"Ha! Brent, only now going off to the
station =" he exclaimed, meeting his ser
vant suddenly you will be late If you
lon't take care; and it will be a shame
% let your little sweetheart arrive first. |
Run, man."
"But l went to leave your message in
-hn " n ri civ and fha or0nn " tharo !
must be some mistake, as you told him |
he new chestnut was not to carry you. |
So he would not believe my order that it
"All right" said Rourke, passing on. |
you 60 and meet Rhoda. l will leave |
own orders |
Rourke had mounted and left the park, |
the eight o'clock bell was ringing in |
The stable turret, where Horton Newley. |
strolling from the Hohve gardens into the |
Iane which skirted them. encountered two
people lettering together near the gate \
which he passed. One was An
drew Brent, the young ~squire's valet, the |
other a young girl dressed in a cheap, gay
dress. and with a face rosily, brightly, |
childishly pretty. Newley's eyes were
liked in cool surprise upon it, while II red
iened with a deeper glow under his gaze.
"Good-morning," he said, genially, as
he young valet touched his hat. You
are in luck. Brent. Is this your sister,"
my sweetheart Mr.. Newley,' said
with loving pride, as he gently
drew her forward for inspection. "Rhoda
Burke. She's core down to bid me good
by, and I've been to meet her train. I
should have gone to her at Alton, but
there were reasons against it. She gets |
at in her place about me, and she
don't like it much. They're not very kind,
the people she lives with, and of course
heir laugh isn't pleasant. So to prevent
It this time l didn't go, but Rhoda got a
holiday to come and see an aunt in Kun
Gould not something be done to make
the girl more comfortable" asked New
ley. his eyes leaving her face and stray
ing along the road. You are a good
fellow and she looks a good girl, and I
should think something might be done.
Let me see. old Miriam at the Winterfeld
Lodge is looking out for some one to help
and take care of her. I will speak
about it,
Il fear it will not do. sir" put in
Brent, unwillingly. "Of course. Miriam
not pay, and. Rhoda dear. l fear
l don't earn enough for both of us, and
to put away for our marriage and furni-
ture and things. It's a kind thought,
though. of yours. Mr.. Newley."
Miriam can afford to pay, or ! never
shn,,ld hara nrnpncnd itS said Ncwlpy