Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1922-02-09
CHAPTER iii.
EIIIIIIIIEIIIIII II ] u IlIIIIIIII
Copyright by Kathleen Morris


Royal Blondin went straight from
Nina to the tea table, which was al
most deserted now. Harriet saw him
coming, and she knew what hour had
come She stood up as he reached
her, and they measured each other
narrowly, with unsmiling eyes.
There was reason for her paleness
today, and for the faint violet shadows
about her beautiful eyes. Harriet had
lain awake deep into the night, toss
ing and feverish. She had always
thought that he must come back; for
years the fear had haunted her at
every street crossing, at every ring Of
Linda's doorbell. At first 1t had been
but shivering apprehension Of his
claims, an anticipation of what he
might expect or want from her. Then
came a saner time, when she told her
self that she was an independent hui
man being as well as he, that she
might meet his argument with argu-
ment, and his threat with threat.
But for the past year or two her
lessening thoughts of him had taken
new form. Harriet had hoped that
when they met again she might be In
a position to punish Royal Blondin, to
look down at him from heights that
even his audacity might not scale.
That time, she told herself In the
fever Of the night, had not yet come.
Her pitifuI achievements, her beauty,
her French and Spanish, her sober
book reading, and her little affecta-
lions Of fine linen and careful speech,
all seemed to crumple to nothing. She
seemed again to be the furious, help
less, seventeen-year-Old Harriet of
the WATERFOWL days, her armor inef-
fectual against that suave and self
confident presence.
She had forced herself to unblnd
the wrappings, to look at the old
wound. She had gone in spirit to that
old, shabby parlor to which Linda and
Fred had carried Josephine's crib late
every night, and where sheet music
had cascaded from the upright piano.
She saw, with the young husband and
wife, a fiery, tumble-head girl of flf-
teen or sixteen, who helped with her
sisters cooking and homework, who
adored the baby, who planned future
on the stage, or as a great painter. or
as a great writer-the means mat
tered not so much that the end was
fame and wealth and happiness for
Harriet.
Fred had brought Royal Blondin in
to supper one night, and Royal had
laughed with the others at the spirited
little waitress who delivered herself Of
tremendous decisions while she came
and went with plates, and forgot to
take off her checked blue apron when
she finally slipped into her place.
The man had been a dereliet then,
as now. But he was nine years older
than Harriet Field. He had had the
same delightful voice, the same pen
etratfng eyes. He had brought poetry,
music, art, into the sordid little parlor
OF the WATERFOWL apartment; he had
helped Harriet to tame and house
those soaring ambitions. She felt
again those kisses that had walked the
little-girl heart into passionate wom-
onhOout phS smut 4hSA Eyes chu phSSSCu
her hand tight against them. So young
so happy-so confident l-plunging
headlong into that soaring blackness.
And now Royal Blondin was back
again, and she was not ready for him.
She could not score now. But he
could hurt her irreparably If he
would. Isabelle was an indifferent
mother, and an incorrigible fiirt, but
at the first word, at the first hint-ah
there would be no arguing, no weigh
ing Of the old blame and responsible.
ityl II there was the faintest cloud
Of doubt, that would be enough
Harriet had shaken back her name