Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-03-04

the loveliest manners I nearly ever see,
be the other whom they may. And when
he bats his eyes at you declare / d'know
how any person could stand against him.
SO I don't! I hain't a word to say,
Loreny. only I'm just a fool a-thinking
how't you're going to be happy-after
all!'
Lorena let herself sink laxly into her
chair. Her eyes narrowed. Yes" she
said very slowly. II am going to be happy.
after ALL She knotted her hatstrings
for moment and then cried out: "Oh.
mother. he is SO noble, my Luis? So
paused. shivering. and hid her face.
At sight Of this Mrs. Gilmer's brows
wrinkled anxiously. Now Loreny!' she
besought, don't you give way SO. You're
all het up with walking. Con lay down
a spell"
But though Lorena docilely obeyed this
command, her manner continued to show
some constraint. The rosy light seemed
to be slipping away from her. Her bloom
waned; and one afternoon a week before
the wedding, as she and her mother to-
gether sewed upon the fair breadths Of
the wedding gown, the girl, having quilted
her needle into the stun, leaned back in
the chair and began silently to wiring her
hands.
-. IT'S no use" she moaned after while.
~ can't do it,
'Lorena Gilmer." quavered her mother,
''don't you be foolish! Think Of your poor
pa and all he's went through! He's give
up everything-yes. everything. And in
spite Of his being acquitted and all. I've
never believed he'd hold his head UP
again like he's done lately. If you want
to kill him you CAM
The girl was rising dizZily and with no
appearance of hearing her mothers
words.
MY Luis! If he wasn't so noble SO hon.
orable so proud, I might-go on. But
can't go on. I must tell him.
81 must. We were going to look at our
new little house this afternoon. I'll tell
him then"
1t was not long after this woeful hour
that Luis Lucero came airily up the street
on his high heels, trilling a bolero as he
came and waving gay hand toward the
window at which Lorena usually sat.
"But-amadora! why art thou so white?"
he asked as she Joined him. ''Or Is 1t only
the shade Of thy broad hat, dearest?" She
said 1t was nothing, but Lucero perceived
something ominous in the haste with
which she urged him up the canyon road
and across to a moderate slope, In the shell
rena did not stop beside those new and
naked walls. but went on up the hill to
the mesa above. where the village herd
Craze all day in the smooth pasturage
over the Utica coal measures.
1--WE will sit here" she said. dropping
at last upon a little knoll. Luis" she
went on in a kind of hard voice, Il have
something to tell you. I'd sooner die than
have to. Luis, I'm not good like you
think. Back in Kentucky-long ago-five
years. was only sixteen and he-I don't
know how 1t was. Ny father killed him.
But he never forgave me. I-I-oh, Godi
Luis! you understand, don't you? I'm
not good enough to be your wife. Oh. you
G va 6vosf 4 ,,tc
Lucero had been holding her hand as he
sat beside her. He dropped 1t as she
spoke, not harshly, but as one whose
mental effort detaches him from material
things. He was staring. He stumbled to
his feet and stood gazing emptily away to
the southwest. where the Ration moun-
tains heap their sapphire blocks against
the sky.
Her face, drawn into an unfamiliar
form with the suspense OF every feeling
except anguish for Lucero's hurt and
shame, was set on his straight. slight
figure In a tense expectancy. For while
he stood motionless: when he let his eyes
fall upon her again he shuddered at the
fixed horror of her look.
Il wish you hadn't told me-" he said.
simply.
AT this she leaned forward; she held
her breath.
Luis, would you have q wife SO un-
true to-everything?
"What good iss 1t to tell?' he flung out. |
'1'd sooner not know"
"Oh, Luis!'
I'D sooner not have to think Of it, But |
Dios! after all, what iss the difference? |
No one will know
She was slowly dragging herself to her |
knees; she paused, and with a hand /
in the tough fibers Of the hill |
grass she asked: do you mean--that it |
makes no difference to you-what I've /
Just told your
Something was abroad which he did not
He was being generous and