The Washington times., 1913-06-02

I Of the crashing distance from her win
dow to the hard-graveled court below.
In such thoughts she grey, rev., aimos, nos,
way. no doubt. But she was given to
crazed. romantic notions-and to act
ing upon them!
The clock struck l. Timidly one of
the two women left In charge-neither
1ailers-drew near to Thomsine, with
dainty food made ready for her eating.
"Mtstress!" she bespoke her.
Cast It out at the window" bade
| mayhap shall cast thee in its room"
The woman scuttled to do her bidding.
and came back. half blubbering. A
good-natured, simple wench she was. to
whom Thomsine once had borne a nk-
J mistress, twas nowise blame o.
I mine" she sniveled.
Thomsine's face Of stone softened
never 20 little, and. at that sight, the
woman ventured further.
III you would but see matters at their
brightest, sweet my lady. It's noble
feast Il made for ye this night. and
guests come from far. and splendid
| mask there will be. It's whispered. Now
would you but don this queenly gown.
and let US tire ye handsome"
Peace" bade Thomsine in tone
that made the woman fee.
But as the moments dragged, Thom-
sine felt herself unkeyed from the alb
normal pitch to which she had been
tuned by the treacherous drug.
She was no longer q raging. primal
thing g fight them all. with tooth and
Instead. she found herself a woman.
trapped. betrayed. with every need to
use her woman's wit. and in that real
ization. she shaped her plans anew.
She would robe herself, yes. In all
Qnlond0r
would take her place at Lord Staver-
sham's feast. and there. In due time.
she would rise UP and speak to his
guests-yes, tell them the whole story
how she was Won Kerstenbroocks'. as
God was witness; how they had drug
ged her and entrapped her. against her
viii. she not even speaking the words.
into this abhorred marriage that should
be no marriage.
Perhaps in that gallant assemblage
she should find some to believe and be
her succor. II not, she should have
blazoned to the world the shame that
was Staversham's. and after that she
had always her penknife.
She rose from the chair by the hearth.
Make me ready. Them she bade the
delighted woman.
The words must have run swiftly
through the great house. Long ere
bride. Eleanor. moving discreetly. as
one who treads on eggs. had sought the
chamber.
In her hand she bore a little casket.
Jewels. she said. which Lord Staver-
sham prayed his lady to wear.
Put them upon me then" said
Thomsine drily, and, with indifferent
eyes, saw an earl's ransom clasped at
her throat and about her arms. Still
with Indifferent eyes. she saw Eleanor
take UP the wedding ring and make
proffer Of II.
This thou hast let fall" said Ell
eanor, the diplomat.
Thou mightest have spared thy
pains and let 1t lie." spoke Thomsine.
Nay, put by! Thy father may set
II on my hand hereafter-if he can"
The clock was striking s. In the
hall OF the great house-the room
that so few weeks before had wit
messed sights Of far different merri-
ment-candles were ablaze in sconces
hung against the paneled walls and
in candelabra set on the long table.
with its fair linen and its glistening
flagons.
For once the shadows were hunted
lurk only In the dim hooks Of the
high-vaulted ceiling or Of the gal
lery. where, behind the carven screen,
my lords musicians were busy with
viol and with flageolet.
At the long table a gallant COM
pany ate and drank and were merry,
as became a bride feast.
The Countess Of Chiltersca had
faced the perils of the road to grace
this hour. and her comely daughter