The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1914-08-07


seemed to have exhausted his vocabr-
larry. He was looking at the ground.
1t was the doctor who spoke at last.
In silence that to the man in the
doorway weighed like a hundred at
mospheres.
mo-" he said bluntly. Certainly
not What put that into your head?"
When he was alone in the library
Valiant opened the glass door and
took from the shelf the morocco case.
The old SILVER of repugnance ran over
him at the very touch of the leather.
In the farthest corner was a low COM
mode. He set the case on this and
moved the big tapestry screen across
the angle. hiding 1t from view.
In the great hall at Damory Court
the candles in their brass wall-sconces
blinked back from the polished par
quetry and the shining fire-dogs, fill
ing the rather solemn gloom with an
air of warmth and creature-comfort.
Leaning against the newel-post, Va
liant gaZed about him. How different
~ III ioohcu iioul tuC hiSul VI MS
coming!
He began to walk up and down the
floor. teasing pricks Of restlessness
urging him. He opened the door and
passed into the unlighted diningroom.
On the sideboard' set a silver loving
cup that had arrived the day before
in huge box with his books and
knick-knacks He had woa it at polo.
He lifted it. lingering it's carved han
| dies. He remembered that when that
particular score had been made. Kath-
arine Fargo had sat in one Of the
drags IT tia side-line.
But the memory evoked no thrill.
Instead. the thought of her palely
passionless beauty called up another
mobile thoroughbred face instinct with
quick Hastings Of mirth and hauteur.
Again he felt the fierce clutch of small
| fingers. as they fought with his in that
struggle for his lie. Each line of
that face stood before him-the arch
ing brows. the cameo-delicacy Of pro-
file. the magnolia skin and hair like a
brown-gold cloud across the sun.
He stepped down to the graveled
drive and followed 1t to the gate. then,
bareheaded. took the Red Road.
Along this highway he had ratified in
Uncle Jefferson's crazy hack-with
her red rose in his hand. The musky
scent of the pressed leaves in the book
in his pocket seemed to be all about
him.
The odor Of living roses, in fact. vas
in the air. 1t came on the scarce
felt breeze. heavy calling perfume
He walked on, keeping the road by the
misty inflltrating simmer OF the
stars, with a sensation rather of glid-
ing than Of walking. 1t occurred to
him that II. as scientists say colors
emit sound-tones. scents also should
possess a music Of their own: the
honeysuckle fragrance. maybe-soft
mellow fiuting as of diminutive wind
Instruments: the far-faint sickly odor
Of lilies-the upper register of faery
violins: this spicy breath Of roses
blending. throbbing chords like elfin
echoes of an Italian harp. The fancy
pleased him; he could imagine the
perfume no In the air carried with
It an under-music. like a ghostly harp
ing.
1t came to him at the same instant
that this was no mere fancy. Some
where in the languorous night harp
was being played. He paused and lis
tened intently. then went on toward
the sound. The rose scent had grown
stronger: 1t was almost in that heavy
air. as II he were breasting an ETHEREAL
sea Of altar. He felt as IL he were