Iron County record. [volume] (Cedar City, Utah) 1893-1982, 1920-11-12

Four?
"Please. I'll be waiting"
w. LoVE7
Ada Meyer was q pretty, vivacious,
fluffy little woman, thoroughly mon
dame and contented with herself. her
husband, her world. Entirely lacking
In any special aptitude for painting,
she dabbled in oils bit. partly be-
cause II afforded her an outlet for
much superfiuous energy that might
otherwise have got her into mischief
partly because she was fond of Pris-
ella, believed her by way of being a
genius, and was glad to lend the girl
the show of chaperonage without
which she must have had a difficult
time of II with Aunt Esther. But Mrs
Meyer was as apt as not to absent her
self from the studio for days at a
time; and on this afternoon Priscilla
found nothing TO indicate that the
other had been there at all.
Glad to be spared the necessity of
explaining that she wanted to be
alone with Philip Fosdick. the girl
moved alertly round the room, superin-
tending the preparation of tea by the
maid she had brought with her plac-
ing the table and the chairs the way
she wanted them-setting the stage for
"A scene which. she felt instinctively,
might affect most intimately all her
days to come. She was always pleased
when Philip was about. Consciousness
of the love he had for her was some
thing she would not willingly have
| forfeited. She was only sorry she
didn't love him in return at least. not
In the way Philip wanted and deserved
TO be loved vastly different from
such love as had thrown Leonora into
the arms of Mario
| She paused, slight frown pucker-
Ing her delicately lined brows.
Strange how the memory of that
caress had power to tug at her heart
strings! Stranger still that anything
as fantastic as that shadowy love of
shadows should seem so real, more
real than all else In the content Of
her drama, even its eliminating
tragedy more real, indeed,
than anything In this world Of reality
wherein she moved and lived and had
her being
In a long stare she comprehended
the studio as with strange eyes, per-
ceiving afresh the substantial beauty
of Its tlme-mellowed furnishings: the
well chosen pieces of DerlOd mahOg-
any shining with contented iusIer I,
the handsome draperies Of rich stuffs
matchlessly colored and toned, bro
cades, tapestries, embossed velvets,
Illuminated feathers of antique Span
ish artistry; the framed canvases on
its walls and those unframed others
that turned TO them bashful faces,
standing on the floor the fine old rugs
whose collection had been her fathers
hobby; the darkly polished floor dark
ly mirroring all things that caught the
light; the great wide fireplace with
its massive dogs of brass; the book
shelves laden with well-bound works
of art; the wide, muilioned window In
the south wall whose heavy draperies
she had thrown back to let in the sun.
She gave gesture of doubt and
anxiety. If this were not love, what
was IT. Not sanity: how could one
love phantom? She began TO
regret the weakness which had moved
her to call up Philip Fosdick. How could
she bring herself to confess this Sc
cret even TO him? How keep 1t hid
den from him? How hope TO deceive
that keen insight which had lifted him
to his present high place in the ranks
OF psychOpathologists2
She sang no more, but awaited
Philips coming with more misgivings
than she liked.
v. CONFESSION.
Philip FOsdick had way of eX