Los Angeles herald., 1910-05-01

Sne were Safe OF nOC9 ROOT mdIJOIIo
had clearly not learned her lesson yet.
BY and by her father left her and for
a time all was silent; then she heard
footsteps and voices. She started to
her feet, listening Yes, that was Will
ford. He had come back: he was out
side the room, talking to her father.
She heard his words.
THE iodgekeeper told me- he said,
in cool, clear tones, that Marjorie had
returned home safe and sound. I rode
over to the chalk pits; it was evident
Iris had not taken that road No;
1 won't disturb her. l am bit tired.
too"
'I think she is sorry" said Mr.. West
lake, while Marjorie stood petrified.
poor child 1 suppose l am wrong,
but can't be angry with her."
"Guise laughed, the laugh that goes
with a shrug. "Alrs we'll that ends
WELL" he said carelessly. Good night,
uncle; think I'll go to my room now
His footsteps receded along the pas
sage. He was gone! Marjorie flung
herself down on the couch again, near
ly beside herself with agony. This was
the end of it, then? He didn't care!
He didn't care! Or if he had loved her
she had killed his love. He saw his
mistake; he was content to know that
she was safe. He did not even want TO
see heri She clenched her hands till
the nails almost entered the flesh to
keep back the sobs that her father, who
came softly into the room, must have
heard. She buried her face in the
cushion, wet with burning tears, and
held her breath when he approached
the sofa lest he should see how she
trembled. He was not very observant,
and soon went away satisfied that
she was still asleep.
Marjorie, once more alone, stole
quickly up to her own room, and all
night lay awake weeping bitterly, till
sheer exhaustion and the dawning
LIGHT brought sleep But she had
passed through refining fire, and
woke in some ways another Marjorie
very miserable still, but humbled..
''I've got what I deserved" she said
to herself. "Wilford did care; I saw
it in his eyes And I cared; but didn't
know it, It's too late now. How could
he give another thought to such as L
am?"
She did not appear until late, until
she had succeeded in obliterating the
tell-tale signs of her grief. 1t was no
unworthy pride that stirred within
her; but she feared to betray to Will
fred Guise how deeply his indifference
wounded her.
Her father and cousin had break
tasted earlier. Marjorie was alone. She
choked down some coffee-she could
not eat-and quilted the room, intend
ing to get away in the grounds by
herself. In the hall she came face to
face with Wilford Guise. She flushed
to her brow, and her eyes sank; she
dared not meet his. If she had she
must have seen in a flash the truth
he was hiding from her. He mastered
himself, and said, not unkindly, but
somewhat coldly:
"How are you this morning, Mar
jorie? Better, I hope?
"I am all right" the girl replied,
shortly.
He looked at her very keenly; but
that, of course, she did not see. She
brushed past him; but a quick hand on
her arm detained her "a word with
you, Marjorie said Guise, very
quickly.
He opened the library door hard by
stood aside for her to enter, and fol-
lowed. closing the door. Marjorie
paused irresolute and bewildered. What
did this mean? Wilford placed her
gently in a chair-how wonderfully DO
cile she had become!-and stood be-
side her.
'Things can't go on like this he
said. after a moments silence. 81 never
meant that they should. meant to
But let that pass for the present. Mar
jorie, have you any idea what you
made me suffer yesterday"
"You seemed-not to care-Very
much" the girl faltered.
"r played my part well, then-to
prove you. Not care! Great heavens!
Not care He stopped, choking.