The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1913-04-24

Il sue TclluQulbueO ueI uOuilulOu huO To-
treated into that enfolded maidenly re-
serve and docility which We feel quite
sure was the manner adopted by the
ladies Of the Stone Age when they
felt It necessary to manage their
lords.
She was as unconscious OF all this
as Dominick was OF his growing abb
sorption in her II he was troubled
she was not. The days saw her grow
ing gayer. more blithe and light
hearted. She sang about the corri-
dors, her smile grew moro radiant,
and every man in the hotel felt the
power Of her awakening womanhood.
Her boyish frankness of demeanor
was still undimmed by the first blur
ring breath of passion. II Dominick
was not In the parlor her disappoint-
ment was as candid as q child's whose
mother had forgotten to bring home
candy. All that she showed OF con-
sciousness was that when he was
there and there was no disappoint-
ment, she concealed her satisfaction.
wrapped herself In a sudden, shy qui'
etness, as completely extinguishing OF
all beneath as a nuns habit.
The continued, enforced intimacy
into which their restricted quarters
and indoor life threw them could not
have been more effectual in tanning
the growing fame II designed by a
malicious Fate. There was only one
sitting-room. and, unable to go out,
they sat side by side in 1t all day.
They read together, they talked, they
played cards. They were seldom alone,
but the presence Of Bill Cannon,
groaning over the fire with a three
weeks-old newspaper for company,
was not one that diverted their atten-
ton from each other; and Cora and
Willoughby. as opponents in game
Of euchre, only helped to accentuate
the comradeship which leagued them
together In defensive alliance.
The days that were so long to 9th
ers were to them Of bright, sur
prising shortness. Playing solitaire
against each other on either side OF
the fireplace was a pastime at which
hours slipped by. Quite unexpected
Iy 1t would be midday, with Cora put
ting her head round the doorpost and
calling them to dinner. In the euchre
games Of the afternoon the darkness
crept upon them with the stealthy
swiftness Of an enemy. 1t would
gather in the corners Of the room
while Cora was still heated and
flushed from her efforts to instruct
Willoughby in the intricacies OF the
game, and yet preserve that respect
full attitude which she felt should be
assumed in ones relations with lord.
The twilight hour that followed was
to Dominick's mind the most delight
full Of these days Of fleeting enchant-
ment. The curtains were drawn, a
new log rolled on the fire, and the
lamp lit. Then their fellow prisoners
began dropping in-the old Judge
slowing himself away in one Of the
horsehair arm-chairs, Willoughby and
Buford lounging In from the bar, and
Mrs. Perley with a basket of the
family mending, and the doctor all
snowy from his rounds. The audience
for Roses readings had expanded
from the original listener to this
choice circle of Antelope's elect. The
book chosen had been Great Expec-
tations," and the spell of that great
est tale Of great romancer fell ON
the snow-bound group and held them
entranced and motionless round the
friendly hearth.
The young mans eyes passed from
face to face, avoiding only that of
the reader bent over the lamp-illu-
mined page. The old Judge, sunk
comfortably into the depths of his
armchair, listened, and cracked the
joints Of his lean, dry fingers. Will
loughby, his dogs crouched about his
feet, looked into the fire, his attentive
gravity broken now and then by a
slow smile. Mrs. Perley, after hear
ing the chapter which describes Mrs.
Gargery's methods Of bringing up Pip
by hand" attended regularly with
the remark that ut was a queer sort
Of book, but some way or other she
liked it." When Cora was forced to
leave to attend to her duties in the
dining-room, she tore herself away
with murmurous reluctance. The doc
tor slipped in at the third reading and
asked Rose If she would lend him the
book In the morning "to read up what
he had missed" Even Perley's boy,
in his worn corduroys, his dirty,
chapped hands rubbing his cap against
his nose, was wont to sidle noiselessly
in and slip into seat near the door.
Tho climax of the day was the long
evening round the fire. There was no
reading then. 1t was the mems hour.
and the smoke Of their pipes and ci-
gars lay thick IN the air. Cut of from
the world in this Granny of the noun
tains, with the hotel shaking to the
buffets of the wind and the snow blan-
ket pressing on the pane. their mem
cries swept back to the wild days of
their youth, to the epic times Of from
tiersman and pioneer.
The judge told of his crossing the
plains In forty-seven and the first Nor.
mon settlement on the barren shores
of Salt Lake. He had had encounters
with the Indians, had heard the story
Of Olive Oatman from one who had
known her, and listened to the sinis
ter tale Of the Donner party from a
survivor. Bill Cannon had come by
the Isthmus" in forty-eight, half
starved, ragged lad who had run away
from uncongenial drudgery on New
York farm. His "reminiscences went
back to the San Francisco that had
started up around Portsmouth Square
to the days when the banks OF the