Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1911-09-27

CHAPTER III.
An Alarm in the Night

e-Fv HERE was nothing that l could
ask, nothing that I could say,
and aside from her thanks she
was silent. SO without a word 1
turned and helped the other woman
to her feet, and still In silence the
three of us walked along until we
came to an easy rise where | helped
them both to the track. We were just
IN time. for as we gained the track
our trolley rounded the curve and took
US aboard.
So for q mile or so Miss Tabor and
I cat in intimate aloofness, while the
oar bore us Though the beauty of the
fading summer day. Everywhere birds
were chanting the evening, and ever
and again with growing insistence the
vivid breath OF the nearing sea blew
past as. All my life this first summer
tang of salt arr had never failed to
stir me. It had meant vacation and
the vague trumpet call of the I'M
known. But now 1 sat unheeding,
burning with an unreasoning and
sulien resentment. I knew that I
wss a foot. What possible difference
could II make to me II the acquaint-
ance Of a merry week and a few more
intimate hours chose to hide a we'd
ding ring in her breast. 1t certainly
was no business OF mine. nor could
she owe me any explanation. Yet [
wanted explanation more than any
thing else IN the world. 1t certainly
could O be her own, and yet-whose
was it anyway? Certainly not her
mothers. for her mother I knew was
alive. Bat then, whose could 1t be?
And why dtd It matter so much? Why
should such a patent terror fill her at
the thought of its loss? Why was 1t
again 80 finally and so quickly hidden
away7 II was very strange, I thought,
that she should let the emotion that
she must know I had seen, pass with
no effort OF explanation.
/ glanced at her. She was sitting,
looking YEARLY ahead, distress was in
her eyes. and every little line of her
body spoke fatigue without hope: only
her hands. tightly olasped in her lap,
showed the determination of some hid
den thought. The blue of a little
bruise lad begun to show near her
temple. A wave of tenderness swept
over me, the pity Of a man for a
woman tired and in unvoiced distress.
Who was I that I should question her?
What possible claim had l upon ever
the least of her thoughts? She vas
pathetically weary and disturbed, and
I was a sullen brute.
I spoke to her as If conversation had
been unbroken. Q course l am to
take you home
She shook her head.
'That's perfectly absurd" I said.
'rrhere must be some Inn or other near
you. / can put up there for the night
and go on in the morning. In fact, /
am pretty tired myself: the nearest
place that l can get supper and a bed
is the best place for me"
She considered for a long moment
Very we'll" she said at last, Il am
tired and still a little dizzy; It would
be nice to be taken all the way home.
I don't generally mind the dark, but
ppo that we were a good deal
shaken up. There Is an inn, too, but
1t would be very silly of you to go
there. unless-unless for some reason
we could not put you up"
"Oh, come I said, you probably
have a houseful at the present mo-
ment. and you know 1t. Nothing is
more upsetting in the world than the
unexpected guest"
well, VIE shall see she answered.
81 am pretty sure that nobody but the
family is at home, and father will want
TO see you and thank o Knight
errantry appeals to him. We viii leave
tho asking to mother. II she can
she viii want you to stay. If she can't,
well the inn is not so bad after all.
There it is, by the way. on that little
hill. ] had no idea that we We're so
near home. We get Off at that next
electric light. win you please signal
TO the conductor"
The car stopped and l helped her
down, taking u two bags with the
strange feeling that I was suddenly
coming to the end of a brief sentiment
tai Journey. Our companion in mis-
fortune, who had chosen a seat by her
self, scarcely looked up. 1t was no
great walk TO the house, and presently
Miss Tabor pointed 1t out TO me, 1t
was large and low, set well BAG upon
a great lawn that a tall. dark hedge
divided from the outer world.
As we neared the pillared gate a
gh-shouldered mar stepped out ner-
vously from the shadow. Miss Tabor
put her hand upon my arm. Just
wait here a moment. please" she said
and ran forward to him.
1t had grown almost dark, but I
could see that she leaned toward lin,
placing both hands upon his shoulders.
The soft %sibilance of her whispered
words and the startling rumble of his
bass came TO ms indistinetly merely
wordless tones. l grew red in the dark
ness and turned my back, for / had
caught myself trying TO listen.
Presently Miss Tabor came to me. 81
didn't mean to keep YOU so long" she
apologized. but you sec"
1T wasn't long I said shortly, sur.
prlsed to find myself angry. So as we
climbed the steps the shadow had
dropped between us again.
For a moment | stood blinking when
the door had shut behind us. The large
low room in which we stood was not
brilliantly lighted, but the sudden
change from the soft outdoor gloom
dazzled me. The room was very large
indeed, hoored with dull red tile, pan
eled in dark oak; a great Dutch FIRE
place, filled with flowers, breathed fra