The Rice belt journal. (Welsh, Calcasieu Parish, La.) 1900-19??, 1910-01-21
CHAPTER Xl-Continued.

made bold to ask for her.
Let me send the maid to tell her
you are here" said Miss Pat, and we
walked to the door and rang.
The maid quickly reported that Miss
Holbrook begged to be excused.
"She is little afraid of the damp
night air of the garden" said Miss
Pat, with so kind an intention that I
smiled to myself. | felt from her man
ner that she wished to detain me. No
one might know how her heart ached,
but it was less the appeal of her gentle.
ness that won me now, I think, than
the remembrance that flashed upon
me Of her passionate outburst after
our meeting with the Italian; and that
seemed very long ago. She had been
magnificent that day, like queen
driven to desperation, and throwing
down the gauntlet as though she had
countless battalions at her back. In
decision took flight before shame; it
was privilege to know and to serve
her!
Miss Holbrook, won't you come out
to see the water fete? We can look
upon it in security and comfort from
the launch The line of march is from
Port Annandale past here and toward
the village, then back again. You can
come home whenever you like. l had
hoped Miss Helen might come, too,
but beg that you will take compass
sion upon my loneliness"
l had flung off my cap with the ex-
aggerated manner l sometimes used
with her; and she dropped me cour-
tesy with the prettiest grace in the
world.
Il shall be with you in moment,
my lord!"
She reappeared quickly and re-
marked, as took her wraps, that
Helen was very sorry not to come.
The gardener was on duty, and I
called lima to help with the launch.
Brightly decorated boats were already
visible in the direction of Port AMMAN
dale; even the tireless lake "tramps"
Whistled with a special flourish and
We're radiant in vari-colored lanterns.
"This is an ampler Venice, but there
should be music to make it complete"
observed Miss Pat, as we stole in and
out among the gathering fleet. And
then, as though in answer, launch
passed near, leaving a trail of MUIR
murous chords behind-the mournful
throb of the guitar, the resonant beat
of banjo strings. Nothing can be so
soothing to the troubled spirit as music
over water, and l watched with delight
Miss Pats deep absorption in all the
sights and sounds of the lake.
The assembling canoes flashed out
of the dark like firefies. Not even the
spirits that tread the air come and go
more magically than the canoe that is
welded by trained hand. The touch
OF the skilled paddler becomes but a
caress OF the water. To have stolen
across Saranac by moonlight: to have
padded the devious course of the
York or Kennebunk when the sea
steals inland for rest, or to dip I'D
stars In lovely Annandale-of such ex-
periences is knowledge born!
| took care that we kept we'll to our
selves, for Miss Pat turned neryously
whenever boat crept too near. lima.
understanding without being told, held
the power well in hand. | had scanned
the lake at shutdown for signs of the
Stiletto, but it had not ventured from
the lower lake all day, and there was
scarcely enough air stirring to ruffle
the water.
We can award the prize for our
selves here at the turn of the loop" |
remarked, as we swung into place and
paused at a point about mile off
Glenarm. Here comes the fotilla !"
The music is almost an imperti-
ence, lovely as it is. The real song
OF the canoe is dip and glide, din and
glide" said Miss Pat.
The loop once mace, we now looked
upon a double line whose bright con.
fusion added to the picture. The ca.
noe offers, when you think of it, little