Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1915-03-03
CHAPTER XVII.
John Valiant Asks a Question.


Valiant went with them to the
outer door A painful thought was
flooding his mind. 1t hampered his
speech and it was only by a violent
effort that he found voice:
"One moment! There is question
l would like to ask"
Both gentlemen had turned upon the
steps and as they faced him he
thought swift glance passed between
them They waited courteously, the
doctor with his habitual frown, the
majors hand fumbling for the black
ribbon on his waistcoat.
Since I came here, l have heard"
his tone was uneven-"of duel in
which my father was principal.
There was such a meeting?"
There was" said the doctor after
the slightest pause of surprise. Had
you known nothing of it?'
Absolutely nothing
The major cleared his throat 1T
was something he might naturally not
have made record OF" he said. "The
two had been friends, and tit was
a fatal encounter for the other The
doctor and l were your fathers sec
onds'
There was moments silence be-
fore Valiant spoke again. When he
did his voice was steady, though drops
had sprung to his forehead. WAS
there any circumstance in that meet
ing that might be construed as re-
f1ecting on his-honOr?"
Good God, no." said the major ex-
plosively.
"On his bearing as a gentleman"
There was a hiatus this time in
which he could hear his heart beat.
In that single exclamation the major
seemed to have exhausted his vocabu-
larry He was looking at the ground
1t was the doctor who spoke at last,
in a silence that to the man in the
doorway weighed like a hundred at
mospheres.
mol" 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 shiver 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 it 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 f1redogs, 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
it all looked from the night of his
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 arr lived the day before
in huge box with his books and
knick-knacks. He had won 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 at the side-line
But the memory evoked no thrill.
Instead, the thought of her palely-cold,
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 life. Each line of
that face stood before him-the arch
ing brows, the cameo-delicacy of pro-
file, the magnolia skin and hair like
brown-gold cloud across the sun.
He stepped down to the graveled
drive and followed it to the gate, then,
bareheaded, took the Red Road.
Along this highway he had ratified in
Uncle Jeffersons 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, was
in the air. 1t came on the scarce
felt breeze, heavy calling perfume.
He walked on, keeping the road by the
misty infltrating simmer of the
stars, with a sensation rather of Gid
ing than of walking. 1t occurred to
him that if, as scientists say, colors
emit sound-tones, scents also should |
possess a music of their own: the |
honeysuckle fragrance, maybe-soft |
mellow futing as of diminutiye wind |.