Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1910-08-12
CHAPTER v.--continued.

At Mrs. Ramsdills during the long
afternoon hours she tried to set her
mind in order, to ask herself what she
was doing, and towards what end she
went. There was no one in the world
to whom she was responsible; un-
fortunately free, her life was her
own. But this was no reason why she
should create for herself especial un-
happiness or dangeri Her idea of
writing sketch of Mr.. Tempest ap-
peared the acme of folly! She would
sink down on her bed in a state of
nervous excitement, overstrained by
the mornings effort and 5ewildered at
her indifference to everything that
was not Craven. But the character
of her reflections left her no time to
dwell on the practical face of the
case or to tremble for an uncertain
future. Tempest, live and absorbing,
filled her thoughts She had no need
to control her attitude IN her attic
room and would throw herself on her
bed, her dark head hidden In her
arms, and thus relive the day until
her feelings terrified her, and close to
unhappiness she would rise, wander
up and down, look out of the low
window in the caves to search the
road to Craven. How long it seemed;
and how 1t stretched away into her
life as she looked, leading to an end
she could not divine.
She usually ended by vigorously
composing her mind and forcing her
self to see that the folly of her in
terest was no indication for ultimate
happiness. Her heart contracted at
the reasonable thought that she was
probably not at all In the mind of
Mr.. Tempest except as an unknown
American, woman OF different taste
and race-nothing more than an
agreeable machine, an impersonal aid
that ministered to some caprice of
his, and which he had not hesitated to
employ. This frank view hurt and
harmed her, and before 1t could cure
her-had it been able to do so-its
falseness shook her control anew. She
had at first known him for a frown-
ing, threatening, discourteous gentle
man. He now gave himself pains to
charm her. or. rather, let himself
charm her as he could, and certainly
he bewftched and frightened her. To
her live imagination he seemed to
call her across the miles that lay be-
tween them. AS she took her leave
of him his look claimed that she
should return, and although he never
said anything to bring her, even was
forbidding in his good-bys, Lucy
Carew fancied she could at night hear
him calling her across the dark. And
It gave her troubled dreams.
Tempest each day after Miss Carew
left, lunched in lonely splendor,
smoked and meditated. rode or walked
as If he had a goal to make before
nightfall. He turned from the Ford
and chose the most out-of-the-way
routes. for fear he might come upon
Lucy Carew In some one of her lone
ly wanderings! She took them, he
knew, but she could not have fol-
lowed his Mad Anthony tramps.
One day before she began to write
he said:
Il want you to lunch here to-day
and go over to Penthuen with me. ]
can't write any more until I've been
to the castle. It's an aesthetic tonic
take every now and then, and /
know this weather-it's changing;
this is the last fine day we'll have
for ages. Let's squander 1t together.
Why do you hesitate?" he asked,
sharply. 81 want you to go"
The day was clear and mild; along
the hedges the holly Redeemed and the
warm dampness of the air bespoke
rain. The windows of the brougham
motor ware open, and the golden air