Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-05-08

i
None tho less, the lady must be found,
and that without delay; the envelope,
with Its blank inclosure half crushed In
sally's hand, was an ever-pressnt re-
minder OF her duty FIRST to herself, acc
| ondly TO her employer. II she had writ
ten nothing, and but for Mrs. standlsh
would have kept her counsel till the last
minute, the latters threat of denuncia-
tlon had lent the temper OF the girl an
other complexion altogether; as Sally
saw It. she no longer had any choice
other than to hnd Mrs. Gosnold as quick
ly as possible and make complete the,
revelation of last nights doings. And
her mind was fixed TO this with a cast of
angry pertlnacity that would prove far
from easy to oppose or even to modify;
whether or not the hostess wished It, che
must suffer herself to be informed imme-
diately and completely.
threading a swift way In and out
among the masks clustered upon the
broad staircase In groups of twos and
threes, laughing ohattering, and watch
ing the restless play OF life and color in
the nail, Hhe gained the floor and then
the letter box. near the door where she
had thought to find her employer.
n distrustful scrutiny of the nearby
masks failed to single out one OF those
she mad marked and memorized IN tho
boudoir. and without detecting any evert
interest In hcr actions, she slipped her
plameless message into the box. then
turned back and steadfast to her pur-
pose, made her way forward through the
throng to the veranda.
After the glare of tho hall the dusk OF
the veranda was as grateful as It's coolth
hn rnn tiNs
purple-and-silver night pressed close and
beckOned; Its breath was sweet its pulses
throbbed with tho rhythmic passion of
violins that scbbcd and sang in hiding
somewhere In the shadows. Up and down
that broad, smooth flooring gay couples
swayed. eve to eye and breast to breast
anachronisms reConciled by the wltchery
OF the dance. And when Sally darted
across to and down tho steps she found
tho lawns, the terrace and the formal
garden. too, peopled with paired shadows
murmurous with soft voices and low
pitched laughter
And she who quartered so swiftly and
so diligently that maze of lights and
shadows found nowhere the one she
wanted but everywhere the confirmation
OF her secret thought-that there was no
place here for her, no room, no welcome
On every hand love lurked, fingered
langulshed, but not for her. Whichever
way she turned she saw some lover
searching for his mistress, but not for
| her. They crossed her path and paused
and stared, sometimes they spoke and
looked deep into her eyes and hardened
to the voice with which she answered
them, giving back jest for jest-and they
muttered excuses and hurried on she was
not for them.
1t was as If life and fate conspred to
humble her spirit and prove her ambi-
tlOuS nlnCp bnVnn6 prth tn
suade her that she was by birth, and
must resign herself to remain always
outcast.
Forlorn and haunted, she circled back
to the house, and on impulse sought
| again the boudoir door.
Marie answered. but shook her head:
no, she could not say where Mrs. Gosnold
might he found.
Impulse again took her out by the door
10 the drive. Motors were still arriving
and departing TO return Mt n designated
hour. but here, at what might be termed
the back Of Gosnold House-if that man
sion could be said to have either back or
front-here on the landward side was
little light or noise or movement. And
after an undecided moment on the steps
beneath the porte-cochere the Quakeress
stepped down and out into the blackness
of tho shadow cast by the western wing.
deep shadow, dense and wide, from the
pale wall OF the house to the edge of
the moon-white lawn.
She moved slowly on through this
pleasant space Of semidarkness, footballs
muffled by the close-trimmed turf, her
emotions calming little from tho agita-
tion which had been waxing ever more
high and strong in her with each success
sive crisis of the night. Here the breeze
was warm and bland, the music and the
laughter a remote rumor. stars glimmered
In, 81 n nj IN
be distilled of such things by the con-
templatlve mind. peace and sweet sad
sense OF the beauty and pain of life. No
place more At than this could one wish
wherein to shelter and nurse bruised
Illusions.
Insensibly she drew near the corner of
the building in abstraction so deep and
still that she was almost upon them when
she appreciated the fact that people were
talking just beyond that high, white
shoulder of stone, and was struck blythe
personal significance of a phrase that
stll echoed in ears which it had at first
found needless: -" Quaker cos
tune, gray and white, with a cloak - :"
1t never occurred to the girl to stop
and eavesdrop; but between that instant
of re-awakened consciousness and the
moment when she came around the cor
ner, three voices sealed an understand
ing:
you've simply got to make her listen
to reason"
"Oh. leave that to my well-known art"
She'll see a great light before l o'clock
or Tim"
Silence fell like a thunderclap as the
Quaker Girl confronted Harlequin. Column
bine and Sir Francis Drake
She said Coolly; You were speaking
OF me, believer
Drake stepped back, swore In his false
beard, and disappeared round the corner
in a twinkling
Columbine snapped like the shrew she
masked "You little sneak!"
And Harlequin capped that with an
easy laugh: "Oh, do keep your temper,
Adele You've less tact than any woman
that ever breathed. I verify believe. Cut
along now; I'll square matters for you
with Miss Manwaring-if it's possible"
With a stifed exclamation Columblns
caught her cloak round her and followed
Drake
The accent OF the comic was not lost
upon the girl. She could not but laugh a
little at Harlequins undisguised discom-
future.
$50 you're nominated for the ONCE of
peacemaker Mr.. Savage!"
I'm afraid So" He shuffled, nerVously
slapping his well-turned calves with Har-