Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-09-05
CHAPTER Kill.

G HIRLEY stood looking at the
- rain. 1t was falling in no steady
downpour which held forth promise
of ending, but with a gentle con-
staney that gave the hills look of
sodden discomfort and made discon-
solate miry pools by the roadside.
The clouds were not too thick how
ever, to let through dismal gray
brightness that shone on the foliage
and touched with glstening lines OF
high-light the draggled tufts of the
soaked bluegrass. Now and then,
across the dripping fields. fraying
skeins of mist wandered. to lie
curdled in the flooded hollows where
here and there, cattle stood lowing
at intervals in a mournful key.
The indoors had become impossible
to her. She was sick of trying to
read, sick of the endless pacings and
purposeless invention of needless
tasks. She wanted movement, the
cobwebby mist about her knees, the
wet rain in her face She ran up
stairs and came down clad in close
scarlet jersey. with leather CATERS
and a soft hat.
Emmaline saw her thus accoutered
with disapproval. "LaWdy-
chile!' she urged; you amt goin
out? It's rainin' cats en- dawgsl"
I'm neither sugar nor salt, EN-
maline," responded Shirley listlessly.
dragging on her rain-coat, land the
walk will do me good"
On the sopping lawn she glanced
up at her mothers window. Since
the night of the ball her own pang
ing self -conSciousness had overlaid
the fine and sensitive association be-
tween them. She had been full of
horrible feeling that her face must
betray her and the cause of her loss
of spirits be guessed,
Her mother had, in fact. been trou-
bled by this, but was far from guess
ing the truth. A somewhat long in
disposition had followed her first
sight of Valiant, and she had not
witnessed the tournament She had
hung upon Shirley's description OF it.
however, with an excited interest
that the other was later to translate
in the light of her own discovery. If
the thought had fitted to her that
fate might hold something deeper
than friendship in Shirley's ac-
auaintance with Valiant, it had been
OF the vaguest. His choice of her as
Queen of Beauty had seemed a
natural homage to that swift and
unfiinching act of hers which had
saved his life. There was in her mind
a more obvious explanation of Shir-
| ley's altered demeanor. perhaps it's
| Chilly Lusk," she had said to herself.
"Have they had a foolish quarrel !
wonder? All, we'll, in her own time
| she will tell me-
| There was some relief to Shirley s
oyercharged feelings in the very dis
comfort of the drenched weather;
| the sucking pull of the wet clay on
her boots and the flirt of the drops
on her cheeks and hair. she thrust
I her dogskin gloves into her pocket
| and held her arms outstretched tc
| lei the wind blow through her fin
gers. The moisture chung in damp
|wreaths to her hair and rolled In
great drops down her coat as she
went.
The widest, most secluded walks
had always drawn her most and she
| instinctively chose one of these to-
day. 1t was the road wherein squat
ted Mad Anthony's whitewashed
cabin. "Dah's er man gwine look in
dem eyes, honey, en- gwine make
! 'en cry en- cry" She had forgotten
the incident of that day when he
| had read her fortune, but now the
| uuavering prophecy came back to
her with a shivering sense of reality.
no dah's fab en- she ain afeah'd
en- dah's watah en- she ain afeah'd
| Els de thing whit eat de ha al
outen de breas'-dat whut she
afeah'd of" II it were only fire
| and water that threatened herl
| She struck her hands together with
an inarticulate cry. She remem-
bered the. laugh in Valiant's eyes as
they had planted the roses, the
characteristic gesture with which he
tossed the waving hair from his
| forehead--how she had named the
| ducks and the peacock and chosen