The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1914-01-08

looked out on the gay flowers and the
sea and tho worn grim face of the
Cliff; then left his room and made his
way downstairs. No one was yet. ap-
parently, astlr; an hour or so must
elapse ere the time set for departure,
and, pending the turn Of the tide and
adieu to old Pierre, the young man
stepped into the garden, through the
gate, and, turning into a rocky path,
strobe out over the cliffs. The island
was small; its walks limited, and soon,
despite a number Of difficulties In the
way he had chosen, he found himself
at its end-the verge Of a great rock
that projected out over the blue, sui
len sea. For some moments he stood
there, listening to the sounds In cav
erns below, watching the snow-capped
waves, the ever-shifting spots on a
vast map, and then, shaking of his
reverie, started to return.
"A brisk wind to take us back to
France" he said to himself; but his
thoughts were not Of possible April
storms, or of his ship. His eyes,
bright, yet perplexed, as If from some
problem whose solution he had not
yet found, were bent downward, only
to be raised where the path demanded
his closer attention. AS he looked up,
he became suddenly aware of the fig
ure Of girl, who approached from
the opposite direction.
A quick CLINT sprang to the young
mans eyes, and, pausing, he waited;
watched. At that point, the way ran
over rock, almost eaten through by
the hungry sea, and she had already
started to cross when he first saw her
The path was not dangerous; nor was
1t easy; only 1t called for certainty
and assurance on the part Of the one
that elected to take 1t. My lady's
light footstep was sure; although the
wind swept rather sharply there, she
held herself with confident poise.
while from the brown eyes shone a
clear, steady light.
Il saw you leave the inn," she said,
drawing near the comparatively shell
tered spot, where he stood, "and know
ing you would soon sail, followed.
There is something l wanted to say,
and-and felt l should have no other
chance to tell you!"
Had she read what was passing in
his brain, she would not have faced
him, so confident; but, ignorant of
what he had learned, the cause of
varying lights in his dark eyes, the
tender play of emotion on his strong
features, she broached her subject
with steadfastness of purpose.
You went away so suddenly the
last time. | had no opportunity, then,
to thank you for all that you did;
and so, l do now-thank you, mean!
Also" a touch of prouder constraint
in her tone, Il appreciate your over
generous proposal through Pierre La
roche; although, of course" her fig
ure very straight, Il could MOTT was
possible-to entertain it. But am
glad you were able to prove. You will
Understandable" my lady ended
quickly, Il thank you'll"
He looked at her long. at is who
am in your debit"
"You" Her brows lifted.
YES"
"I-don't think l quite understand"
In spite Of herself and her resolution, |
the proud eyes seemed to shrink from |
a nameless something in his gaze.
Nor l! Nanette was talking with
me last night"
"Nanette!"
In words, direct, uneQuivocal. he
told her what he had learned; and al |
though my lady laughed. as at some
thing absurd, and strove to maintain
an unvarying mien, his eyes chal-
lenged evasion; demanded truth! At
that moment the space where they |
stood seemed, perhaps, too small; to
hem her very closely in-too closely
as, drawing back, she touched the hard
rocky wall!
"Why?" Still endeavoring to regard
him as If the charge could only be pre-
posterous, too unreasonable to an
swer, she was, nevertheless, conscious
of the fame on her face-tacit refuta-
ton of the denials In her eyes!
"Why?" she repeated.
That is just what was asking my
self when I saw you. my Lady"
And, of course, knowing there
could be no-that 1t was too senseless
-" The words she was searching for
failed her; she looked toward the path
over the neck Of rock, but he con-
tinued to stand between it and her.
Il have heard the story in all its de.
tails; all that passed at the Mount,