Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1931-02-05

Oh llSl llpptlS odilulA' NV SesAAnuAAiS
alone in the vast firelesS morning
room, glanced curiouSly round and
started as she saw some watching
her with an ironic smile from the
shadows. But it was only her own
reflection, i%ncongrous in its sable coat
and little felt cap as a Vogue drawing
slipped in between the yellow pages of
a keepsake book. The past! 1t was
more real than the present in this
room which she remembered dimly,
like a room in a dream. She Won
dered If it had ever been disturbed
since those faded plum brocade cur
tains were new; if the piece of needle
work lying across the arm OF a chair
had been put down by Margaret Bride
or a Bride dead two hundred years ago.
She was looking at the lovely bits of
Spode gathering dust in a C~hippendale
cabinet when there was the sound OF
dogs barking, and the old lady stood
on the threshold, peering uncertainty
from side to side.
Are you there, Sandra? My dear
| child, come and kiss me! l told them
to put you in the library-there'S a
fire there-but these girls are all a
pack of half-wits nowadays. Yes, your
hands are quite cold, in spite Of this
lovely coat"
Stroking the soft fur, she turned the
visitor toward the light and pro-
nounced triumphantly:
Exactly the same dear little Sandra!
Not a day older, child"
Sandra, returning the kiss, wondered
whether to thank Mrs. Brides eyesight
or a particularly artful new rouge and
the cunning line of the little hat. Ex-
actly the same-except for some tired
little lines round the eyes, a rather
repelling bitterness in the curves Of
the mouth, and a sense that nothing
mattered very much any more. Not
a day older-except that one had been
the round face of a girl of eighteen,
and this was the brilliant, unhappy
face of a woman of thirty-three. The
charity Of Margaret Bride!
The old woman had been a beauty
herself once; now her face was like
Bridal, it's structure still noble, but
fast crumbling into neglect and ruin.
Sandra remembered her as being more
erect, less Shrunken, and recapturlng
a sort of loneliness in the dinner can
delight, facing Nathan down the long
stretch of mahogany with diamonds
glittering in her ears and on her fine
long fingers. Those diamonds must
have gone the way of Bridall's farms;
her only jewelry was an old fashioned
gold watch pinned to her high necked
black dress.
You'll have to speak up, my DEAR"
she told Sandra cheerfully. I'm as
deaf as a post these days. Come along
~now-you'd like to go to your room, l
expect. And how is your dear grand
mother? Eth? Died six years ago?
God bless me, l forgot"
Chattering with rather pathetic gar
rulousness, she clambered painfully up
the broad staircase, under the scrutiny
of a Gainsborough Colonel John Bride,
very fine in his red coat with the Bride
nose jutting out from a lean red face)
and a fierce stuffed swan which Sandra
remembered with a smile. They climbed
from the dimly lighted well OF the hall
into a gusty darkness that was full OF
the wind, squalling like a cat down
wide chimneys and rafting loose win
dow sashes. The old lady, breathing
hard, grunted:
where's that switch? I'm a miser
about lights nowadays, Sandra-ex-
~travagant to keep 'em all burning for
one lonely old woman. Eth? Ha, that's
better!"
(To be continued