The labor world. [volume] (Duluth, Minn.) 1896-current, 1913-02-15
CONTINUED i y; !;
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CHAPTER VI,
III nor Nn~:I

IL Penelope was making her way
Ill through the blacklist of nights
- toward the home Of Randolph
Shaw. In deciding upon this step, aft
er long deliberation, she had said to
herself: Randolph Shaw is the only
real man I've seen since coming to the
mountains. can trust him to help me-
tonight"
1t was fully three miles to Shaw's
place, most Of the way over the mar
row valley road. She knew she would
encounter but few tortuous places.
The last half mile. however, was steep,
rugged and unfamiliar to her. She had
ventured no nearer to his home than
Renwood's deserted cottage, lying
above and to the south Of the road. al
most at the base Of the long hill on
whose side Shaw had built his big
home. 10 climb that hill was no easy
task in daylight; at midnight, with the
stars obscured by clouds and treetops,
there was something perilously uncer-
tain in the prospect.
Only the knowledge that patience
and courage eventually would bring
her to the end made the journey pos
sible. Time would lead her to the
haven; care would make the road a
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. Her
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 frowned black1y in her face
what will he think? What will he
say? Oh, he'll think I'm 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. 1t won't matter what he
thinks. I'll be away from all of it to-
morrow. I'll be out of his life, and l
won't care. what he thinks. England!
Goodness! What's that?'- She had
turned bend in the drive, and just
ahead there was light A sigh of re-
lief followed the question. 1t came
from the lantern which hung to
stake in the road where the new stone
gate posts were being built by work
men from town. Bazelhurst Villa was
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 SILVER 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 BODIED i'll for the sta
bility of her adventure. An owl boot
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.
ooh" she gasped, moving over quick
~ 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, a 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
her lips. What a goose! It wac an
owl, and I've heard hundreds Of them
up here. Still. they do sound different
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 bit terrifying. If l
only had lantern it wouldn't be so''-
Her gaze fell upon the laborers' Ian
tern that clattered aimlessly, uselessly,
against the stake. An instant later she
had jerked it from its fastenings with
cry of joy. "Ill send it back when
they go for my trunks. What luckw
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 daw6lle.
Her walking skirt gave free play to her
limbs. She was far past the we'll
known Zine in the road" before she
paused to take 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
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
B her breast cried out for those shining,
II gone by moments, something seemed
n to close down on her throat, something
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