Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1910-09-02

routine She made the parks by way
of the main road as she had done or
the stormy night several weeks be
fore, when she sought Craven for the
first and so boldly demanded inter
view with its master.
AS she followed the avenue in the
cold morning she walked through
mist. 1t cleared only to let her fig
ure cut the vapor, which directly
closed behind her again into one OF
the fogs In which winter England
is mysteriously yelled; before her the
shapes of trees indistinctly designed
themselves like seaweed in muggy
sea-
A little more than three-quarters
of the way up the drive she heard
the trot of horses feet, and before
she could step aside to permit, as
she supposed, some groom from
Craven to pass her, an equine head
and body doomed so close that she
gave cry, and the horse was sud
denly drawn back until he almost
reared.
The hand on the rein was a WON
ans. the rider a woman, her tri
cornered hat and coat and lips and
cheeks all scarlet. She exclaimed
half frightened, half annoyed:
Heaven! might have hurt you!'
and stared down at the roadside en-
cumbrance-and at sight of Miss
Carew nodded a sort of ,good-morn
ing; an expression of quick curiosity
shot across her handsome, mocking
face-"hurt you or been thrown my.
self. You're not startled?"
The rider held her horse quiet In
the fog, and mercilessly scrutinized
the young woman, who, dark and
slender, of loneliness no less marked
than her own, of q grace no less
seductive than her ladyship's, ap.
peared to have miraculously unfolded
into existence in the elm avenue
and to have taken form out of fog
and mists. She presented a problem
suggested manifold possibilities and
at least commanded attention.
Without excuse or preamble:
You're walking up to Craven
castle?" the rider asked her.
Eyes"
You're nearly there. however, but
perhaps you know the way?"
Il think / shall find it,"
The pedestrians dress was exces.
sively plain. In her hands she car.
ried little packet which looked like
notebook. She had doubtless a
Basdeker up her sleeve.
You're an Americana"
A slight smile touched the grave
features of the younger woman.
How did you know"
The other laughed frankly.
THE same language, so different in
transatlantic mouths. mean to say
you speak American Craven isn't
open to visitors, like Penthuen and
the neighboring castles"
MOI"
TITS shut and barred, I might say.
You won't get in. But expect you're
a hero-worshipper and are going to
try for glimpse of the great writer?
Your country people are hero-wor.
shippers"
II think we are"
The lady's horse stretched his long.
shining neck The smoke from his
nostrils blended with the mist and
stirred the vapor that flew away be-
fore his breath. 1t flew too around
the head and form of the American
girl and the trim red figure of the lit
tie equestrienne, to whom the mono
syllables of the stranger were battling
and because of her rival beauty an.
noying.
She gathered up her slackened
reins. I've been following the
hounds" she vouchsafed, "and I've
cut through Craven by mistaken
few minutes shall hear the horn"
She leaned on her pommel, her mind
travelling back to her last interview
with Mr.. Tempest at Penthuen, and
suddenly she exclaimed with a sharp
"Ah!" of enlightenment, and as
though she did not relish the discov-
cry:
why. I've seen you before"
Miss Carew, who knew as well as If
she had seen her daily for years, said:
II think never"
But yes-a day or two ago-you
wore red dress-you were driving
with Mr.. Tempest in a motor. | was
driving behind you to Penthuen."
(TO BE CONTINUED)