The Washington herald., 1914-04-12

"Of course" he said, 81 promised to
show you the works under their proper
dramatic conditions. It's odd how !
could have forgotten"
'If I'm troubling you" began Raut.
Horrocks started again. A new light
had suddenly come into the sultry gloom
of his eyes. Not in the least" he said.
"Have you been telling Mr.. Raut of
all these contrasts o. fame and shadow
you think so splendid" ?" said the woman,
turning now to her husband for the first
time, her confidence creeping back again,
her voice just one half note too high.
That dreadful theory of yours that ma
chinery is beautiful and everything else
in the world ugly. l thought he would
not spare you, Mr.. Raut. It's his great
theory, his one discovery in art"
Il am slow to make discoveries" said
Horrocks, grimly. damping her sudden
ly. But what / discover He stopped.
WELL" she said.
Nothing" and suddenly he rose to
his feet.
Il promised to show you the works"
he said to Raut, and put his big, clumsy
hand on his friends shoulder. "And
you are ready to go?"
Quite" said Raut, and stood up also
There was another pause. Each of
them peered through the indistinctness
of the dusk at the other two. Horrocks'
hand still rested on Raut's shoulder.
Raut half fancied still that the incident
was trivial after all. But Mrs. Horrocks
knew her husband better, knew that grim
quiet in his voice, and the confusion in
her mind took vague shape of physical
evil Every well,' said Horrocks, and,
dropping his hand, turned toward the
door.
my hat?" Raut looked round in the
half light.
That's my workbasket," said Mrs.
Horrocks, with a gust 1of hysterical
laughter. The hands came together on
the back of the chair. Here it isl" he
said. She had an impulse to warn him
in an undertone, but she could not frame
a word. Don't go!" and Beware of
HIM" struggled in her mind, and the
swift moment passed.
"Got it," said Horrocks, standing with
door half open.
Raut stepped toward him. Better say
good-by to Mrs. Horrocks," said the
ironmaster, even more grimly quiet in
his tone than before.
Raut started and turned. Good even
ing, Mrs. Horrocks," he said, and their
hands touched.
Horrocks held the door open with
ceremonial politeness unusual in him to-
ward men. Raut went out and then, al
ter a wordless look at her, her husband
followed. She stood motionless while
Raut's light football and her husbands
heavy tread, like bass and trebel, passed
down the passage together. The front
door slammed heavily. She went to the
window, moving slowly, and stood
watching-leaning forward. The two
men appeared for a moment at the gate
way in the road, passed under the street
lamp, and were hidden by the black
masses of the shrubbery. The lamp
light fell for a moment on their faces,
showing only unmeaning pale patches,
telling nothing of what she still feared,
and doubted, and craved vainly to know.
Then she sank down into a crouching
attitude in the big armchair, her eyes
wide open and staring out at the red
lights from the furnaces that fickered
in the sky. An hour after she was still
there, her attitude scarcely changed.
The oppressive stiffness of the evening
heavily upon Raut. They went
side by side down the road in silence,
and in silence turned into the cinder-
made byway that presently opened out
the prospect of the valley.
A blue haze, half dust, half mist,
touched the long valley with mystery.
Beyond were Hanley and Etruria, gray
and dark masses, outlined thinly by the
rare golden dots of the street lamps,
and here and there gaslit window, or
the yellow glare of some late-working
factory or crowded public house. Out
of the masses, clear and slender against
the evening sky, rose a multitude of tall
chimneys, many of them rocking, few
during a season of play"
Here and there pallid patch and ghost
ly stunted beehive shapes showed the
position of a pot bank, or wheel, black
and sharp against the hot lower sky,
marked some colliery where they raise
the irridescent coal of the place. Near
er at hand was the broad stretch of rail-
way, and half invisible trains shunted-
a steady putting and rumbling, with
every run ringing conclusion and a
rhythmic series of impacts. and a pas
sage of intermittent puffs of white steam
across the further view. And to the left,
between the railway and the dark mass
Of the low hill beyond, dominating the