Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1931-02-05
IN THREE PARTS-PART ONE

IN THREE PARTS-PART ONE .
DUBBING her gloved finger against
n the window of the car, Sandra
Mitchell was just able to make out
two curved white shapes sailing dis
consolately across a stretch of n
mental water. They moved slowly, a
couple of sodden swans making for the
shelter of the reeds. Then the rain
ratified down with fresh vigor, as
though in a fury of desire to destroy
the ouieScent earth. and i Il a moment
the glass was streaming; swans and
lake were lost behind a dark brake OF
Scotch frs.
1t was strange to come TO Bridal
again on a day like this, when she
remembered these green slopes dane
ing with the heat and gnats Of a
searching July. The place had stayed
in her mind that way, tranced in
eternal summer, and here it was, mel
ancholy in the rain of a squally au-
tumn twilight that was flashing the
trees into fantastic shapes and pitting
the drive with puddles through which
the old car bounced and crashed. Her
dressing case lurched forward tipsily
on her feet. Setting it right, Sandra
thought a little grimly, "Idiotic, I sup
pose, to expect anything to be the
same after fifteen years. Good God!
Is it really that?"
Fifteen years! The old man had
been alive then. For a moment she
could see his red face clearly against
the darkness; its imperiouS Jutting
nose; the strong teeth that he showed
very often in a curiously expression
less laugh, the passionate wrinkles
that revealed a fierce and yet dissat-
isfied egotism. There had been no son
for Bridal. Perhaps that explained
the savage mood which sometimes de-
scended on Nathan Brides urbanity
like a cloud, although Sandra's men,
DRY showed him perpetually laughing
and good humored. If he felt the
pinch of changing times, neither he
nor his land showed it. One by n
the farms might go, but there was
always a houseful of gaiety at Bridal;
the old man still had his pack OF
hounds, and the gardens were sleek
as a well kept hand. Sandra could
remember Nathan riding beside her on
a beautiful chestnut mare, pointing
a possessive crop at grazing cattle, at
fields of rustling wheat and rich Grim
son clover.
Fifteen years had brought changes.
Although it was too dark to peer out
any longer, Sandra felt that it was
not only the rain which was giving
the park it's air of unkempt melan-
choly. There had been no lights at
the lodge; as the car swung through
the gates she had noticed that n
of the stone pillars was collapsing, and
the gravel of the drive had become
more like a bog. She was sensitive,
too, to a deep mood Of sadness pro-
ceeding from the land itself. With
drawn into the darkness, the earth
was brooding like an animal, dumb,
mourning, and patient.
Yes, fifteen years had brought
changes-to others besides Bridal. She
had gone there as an eager girl, and
Cllt Go EOAAlS DltE Sll 10 q 1RPay
disappointed woman. Sandra told her
self, as she huddled deeper into her
sables with a sudden sensation OF chill,
that it was hard TO know why she
was going back at all. In those years
of wandering she had written to Mar
garet Bride onc or twice; then a line
to say that she was settling in London
again had brought an instant invita-
ton from the old. lady to stay at
Bridal. Why had she accepted? AS
the drive broadened into a sweep and
the dark huddle of the house crouched
through the twilight, Sandra thought
grimly that the answer was probably
boredom. Boredom with her friends
and the determined brightness of her
amusing" new fiat; boredom with the
man who was trying to marry her;
stale, deadly, unbelievable boredom
with herself that had made her escape
so thankfully into the wilds of the
Hereford country.
No lights showed along the frown-
ing facade Of the house. Sandra'S
visions of a possible house party an
lSIleU as SHE StOOu LII lue puldIeu pOIIl-
CO, listening to the echoes Of the bell
vibrate into the distance as though
it were disturbing the dust of a chain
of empty rooms. After a wait the
door was opened by a strong, untidy
looking country girl who seized the
suitcases from the old chauffeur's
grasp.
"Will you step in here, please,
ma'am? Mrs. Bride will be down in a
minute"
Her footsteps tapped away down the
hall with the slatternly dragging sound