Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1910-02-18

the pain, clad in white, hatleSS, and
her hands lightly brushing the lush
grass that seemed to leap up to touch
them. She had not seen me, and 1
drew back a little for love of the pic
ture she made.
Sne paused abruptly midway of the
daisies, and | walked toward her slow
ly-it must have been slowIy-and l
think we were both glad of a mo-
ment's respite in which to study each
other. Then she spoke at once, as
though our meeting had been prear-
ranged.
Il hoped should see YOU" she said,
gravely.
Il had every intention of seeing
you. I was killing time until l felt
l might d~ecentIy lift the latch of Red
Gate
She inspected me with her hands
clasped behind her.
Please don't look at me like that"
l laughed. Il camped in a barn last
night for fear l shouldn't get here in
time"
Il wish to speak to you for a few
minutes-to tell you what you may
have guessed about us-my father and
me-"
Yes; if you like; but only to help
you if l AN. 1t is not necessary for
o to tell me anything."
She turned and led the way across
the daisy field. She walked swiftly,
holding back her skirts from the
crOwding flowers, traversed the garden
of Red Gate, and continued down to
the houseboat.
I'VE can be quiet here" she said,
throwing open the door. My father
is at Tippecanoe village, shipping n
of his canoes. We are early -risers,
you see!"
She grew grave again.
Il have important things to say to
you, but it's just as we'll for you to
see me in the broadcast of of daylight,
so that"-she pondered a moment, as
though to be sure of expressing her
self clearly-"so that when you see
Helen HOlbrook in an hour or so in
that pretty garden by the lake you
will understand that it was not really
RosaIind after all that-that-amused
you!"
But the daylight is not helping that
idea. are m%arvelOusly alike, and
yet l 1oundered miserably in my
uncertainty.
"Then'-and she smiled at my dis
comfture, "if you can't tell us apart, it
makes no difference whether you ever
see me again or not. You see, Mr.
but did you eve tell me what your
name is? Well, know it, anyhow,
Mr.. Donovan"
Ill., I;A411 lz4-.1o-
us, and on it lay the foil which her
father had snatched from the wal the
night before. l still stood, gazing
down at Rosalind. Fashion, l saw,
had lone something for the amazing
resemblance. She wore her hair in
the pOmpadOur of the day, with eX-
actly Helen'S sweep; and her white
gown was identical with that worn
that a by thousands of young wom-
en-. She had even the same gestures,
the same little way of resting her
cheek against her hand that Helen
had; and before h spoke she moved
her head a trifle to one side, with a
pretty suggestion Of just having been
startled from a r~eVerie, that was Hell
ems trick precisely.
She forgot for a moment our serious
affairs, to which l was not in the least
anxious to turn, in her amusement at
my perplexity.
1t must be ven more extraordinary
than | imagined. | have not seen
Helen for seven years. She is my
cousin; and when we were children to-
gether at Stamford our mothers used
to dress US alike to further the re-
Semblance. Our mothers, you may not
know, were not only sisters; they
were twin s~isters! But Helen is, /
think, a trifie taller than l am. This
little mark'-she touched the peak
is really very curious. But our moth.
ers n our grandmOthers had it. And
you see that | speak a little more rap
idly than she does-at least that used
SrOwn-up cousin at all. We probably
have different tastes, temperaments,
n all that"
Il am positive OF it," l exclaimed;
yet l was really sure of nothing, save
that | was talking to an exceedingly
pretty girl, who was amazingly like an
other very pretty girl whom l knew
much better.
You are her guardian. so to speak,
Mr.. Donovan. You are taking care OF
my Aunt Pat and my cousin. Just
how that came about | don't know"
CTO BE CONTINUED,