The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-08-10

her to the end made the journey pos sible. Time would lead her to the haven; care would make the road friend: stout heart was her best ally. Strength of limb and strength of pur- pose she had, in use and in reserve. No power could have made her turn back willingly. Her anxious eyes were set ahead in the blackness. HeI runaway feet were eager in obedience to her will.
 "Why couldn't have put it off until morning?" she was saying to herself as she passed down the graveled drive and advanced to meet the wall of trees that drowned blackly in her face. "What will he think? What will he say? Oh, he'll think Pm such a silly, romantic fool! No, he won't. He'll understand. He'll help me on to Plattsburg tomorrow. But will he think I've done this for effect? Won't he think I'm actually throwing my self at his head? No, I can't turn back. I'd rather die than go back to that house It won't matter what he thinks. I'll be away from all of it to- morrow. I'll be out of his life, and won't care what he thinks. England! Goodness! Whats that?" She had turned a bend in the drive, and just ahead there was light. A sigh of re- lief followed the question. It came from the lantern which hung to a stake in the road where the new stone gate posts were being built by work men from town Bazelhurst Villa was a quarter Of mile, through the park, behind her; the forest was ahead.
 At the gate she stopped between the half finished stone posts and looked ahead with the first shiver of dismay. Her limbs seemed ready to collapse. The flush of anger and excitement left her face. A white, desolate look came in its stead. Her eyes grew wide, and she blinked her lashes with an awed uncertainty that boded i'll for the sta bility of her adventure. An owl hoot- ed in mournful cadence close by, and she felt her hair was going straight on end. The tense fingers of one hand gripped the handle of the travelling bag, while the other went spasmod- ically to her heart.
 "Ohv' she gasped, moving over quick ay to the stake on which the lantern hung. The wind was rushing through the treetops with increased fervOr, the | air was cool and wet with the signs of rain, swirl of dust flew up into her face, the swish of leaves sounded like the splashing of water in the air. Holding her heart for minutes, she at | last regained some of the lost com posture. A hysterical laugh fell from 1 her lips What a goose! It was an owl, and I've heard hundreds of them up here Still, they do sound different l outside of ones own room. It's going to rain. What wretched luck! Dear me, can't stand here all night! How black it is ahead there! O-o-o-h! Really, now, it does seem a bit terrifying. If 1 only had a lantern it wouldn't be SOL i Her gaze fell upon the laborers' lan- tern that clattered aimlessly, uselessly, against the ssake. An instant later she i had jerked it from its ~fastenings with a cry of joy. "I'll send it back when l they go for my trunks. What luck"
 Without a seconds hesitation she
 started off briskly into the woodland road, striding along with the splendid
 swing of the healthy Englishwoman
 who has not been trained to dawdle.
 Her walking skirt gave free play to her limbs. She was far past the well ! known ''line in the road'' before she paused to take a full breath and to re.
 capitulate. Her heart beat faster, and the sudden glow in her cheek was not from the exercise. Somehow, out there
 alone in the world, the most amazing l feeling of tenderness sped on ahead to
 Randolph Shaw. She tried to put it
 from her. but it grew and grew. Then she .blushed deep within herself, and
 her eyes grew sweet with the memory
 of those stolen, reprehensible hours
 along the frontier. Something within
 her breast cried out for those shining
 gone by moments, something seemed
 to close down on her throat. something