Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1914-01-13

with frantic haste dragged out a rough
cloak that fell over her soft house.
gown, covering it to the feet. 1t had
a peaked hood falling from its collar
and into this she thrust the resenIful
masses &C her hair. Every few sec
onds she caught her breath in short
gasp, ard once she paused with an
apprehensive glance over her shoulder
and shivered. She scarcely knew
what she did. nor did she ask herself
what might be the outcome of such an
absurd adventure. She neithe" knew
nor cared. She was swept off her feet
and whirled away into some outlandish
limbo of shadowy fear and crying
dread.
Slipping Off her shoes, she went
swiftly and noiselessly down the
stair. She let herself out of the door
ana. shoes on again, ran across the
clover. A hound clambered about her,
whining, but she silenced him with a
whispered word. Selim lifted his
head and she patted the snuffllns in.
quiring muzzle an instant before, with
her hand on his name, she led him
through the hedge to the stable. It
was but the work OF moment to
throw on side-saddle and buckle the
girth. Then, mounting, she turned
him into the lane.
He was thoroughbred, and her tense
excitement seemed to communicates
itself to him. He blew the breath
through his delicate f1aring nostrlls
and flung up his head at her restrain.
ing hand on the bride. Once on the
Red Road, she let him have his will
The long vacant highway reeled out
behind her to the fierce and lonely
hoof-tattoo. She was scarcely con.
scious of consecutive thought--all was
a vague tumble of chaotic impressions
threaded by that necessity that called
her like an insistent voice.
Corpse and hedge flew by. streaks
of dfstemper ON the shifting gloom
swarthy farmhouse roofs huddled like
giant Indians on the trail, and ponds
in pastures glinted back the pale glim.
lmering of stars. The faint mist, tang.
led in the branches of the trees, made
them look like ghosts gathered to see
her pass. Was this real or was she
dreaming? Was she, Shirley Dand.
ridge, really galloping down an open
road at acknowledgements of the .are.
Drained maunderings Of half-mad
old negro!
The great iron gate OF Damory
Court hung open, and scarcely slacken.
ing her pace, she rode through and lp
the long drive. The glooming house.
front was blank and silent and its
huge porch columns locker like lonely
gray monoliths in the wan light. Not
twinkle showed at chink or Granny:
the ponderous shutters were closed
There was a sense Of desertion, OF
emptiness about the place that
brought her heart into her throat
with sickly horrible feeling of Ger.
tainty.
| She jumped down from the blowing
horse and hurried around the house
The door Of the kitchens were open
and a ladder of dim reddish light fell
from It across the grass. She ran
swiftly and looked in. A huddled
figure sat there, rocking to and fro
in the limplight.
Aunt Daph," she called, what is
| the matter?"
The turbaned head turned sharply
toward her. dat yo', Miss Shirley
the old woman said huskily. "1s 70
come ter see Mars John 10 he gwine
He done gone ter de deepo TO- ter ketch
de th'oo train. En-. oh. honey, All
knows in nah ole ha'at dat Mars John
aim nevah gwine come back ter
Danny Co'ot no mo-"
CHAPTER XVIII g.:
The Song Of the Nightingale.
Along the dark turnpike John Vail.
ant rode with his chin sunk on his
breast. He was wretchedly glad of the
darkness, for it covered thousand
familiar sights he had grown to love.
Yet through the dark came drifting
sounds that caught at him with clutch
ing hands-the bay Of hound from
some far-off kennel. the whirrtng note
of frogs, the impatient high whinny
OF a horse across pasture-bars-and
his nostrils widened to the wild
braided fragrance of the fields over
which the mist was spinning its fairy
carded WOOL
The preparations for his going had
been quickly made. He was leaving
teau. Uncle Jefferson had already
taken this-with Chum-to the station.
The old man had now gone sorrow
luIiy dlCOL 10 lH6 DlOCknOuSe. nall
mile up the track. to bespeak the
stopping of the express He would go
back on the horse his master was
riding.
The lonely little depot fianked
siding beside dismal stretch of yel-
low clay-bank gouged by rains. It's
windows were dark and the weather.
beaten plank platform was Illuminated
by a single lantern that hung on a
nail beside the locked door. it's sickly
fame showing bruise-like through
smoky streakings Of lamp-b black. At
one side. in the shadow, was his bag,
and beside 1t the tethered bulldog
sole spot Of white against the melan-
choly forlornness-lying with one
splintered leg, like a. swaddled ram
rod, sticking straight out before him.
In the saddle, Valiant struck his
hand hard against his knee Surely
it was a dream! It could not be
that he was leaving Virginia, leaving
Damory Court, leaving her. But he
knew that it was not dream.
Far aWay rounding pOwhattan