HOW FRENCH BEHAVE
ON EVEOF BATTLE
Tense Excitement, But No
Flurry Marks Hour Preced
ing an Assault.
French Front.—(by mall).—Tense ex
citement. but no flurry, reigns along
any sector of the French front Just be
fore an assault is to be delivered. The
men stand to arms coolly as though
they were going on to the parade
ground. They look to the breaches of
their rifles, load their magazines, loosen
their bayonets in their scabbards, fix
the straps of their steel helmets or
tighten their belts. Some of them sit
down with their backs supported by the
side of the trench writing what may be
their last message to their relatives
while waiting for the word to "go over.”
There is no hesitation when this comes.
The men, with every confidence In
their leaders, all their nerves and
muscles taut, clamber out and spring
forward and In the recent offensive
have always achieved the objective set
them by their commanders.
The Associated ITess correspondent
had an opportunity to be in the midst i
of one of these movements of prepara
tion at a certain point of the French
line somewhere south of the Somme at
a time when the allied offensive was
pushing forward with great vigor.
In the sector visited by the Associ
ated Press representatives the French
and German first line trenches are sep
arated by a distance of from 800 to 300
yards. In between arc wide barbed wire
entanglements, erected at nighttime
after the French had driven the Ger
mans from a village and a wood by
surprise. With modern arms the cov
ering of such a distance across open I
ground by attacking Infantry would j
mean a terrible casualty list. The
French, however, were determined to j
advance. To do so they excavated with j
great rapidity approach trenches zig
zagging forward some BO to 80 yards, j
where they were Joined up by a paral
lel trench known as the "taking off
parallel." From this running still fur
ther out satis were cut leading towards
the German linos and these were oc
cupied by listening patrols and armored
machine gun emplacements. From the
bottom of the taking off parallel steps
cut in the earth led up to the level
ground. Up these the companies chos- j
en for the assault were to spring on
the signal for the departure and Bpread
out In open formation, dashing forward
In sections towards the Germany
works, previously almost battered out
of existence by the French a' tillery.
The sector was not at all "healthy”
when the correwpmidents visited it.
German areoplanes cruised about over
head evidently scenting that some
thing was about to take place. Their
activities were not to the liking of the
infantrymen below, who, while not im
pressed by the dangers of artillery and
machine gun lire, object strongly to the
appearance on the scene of these aerial
intruders. i
Artillery cu'rtaln fire had been
started by the Germans to prevent the
arrival of French reinforcements, but
lts effect on the French troops was al
most nil.
division, who had been promoted only
recently for brilliant service on the
Somme, had spokofi with the corres
pondents before their departure for the
front line. They had invaded his post
of command on a particularly lively
sector of the French line for the time.
The general occupies a dugout exca
vated for a German batnllion com
mander, who had remained in posses
sion for the better part of two years.
It was dug deep down beneath the1
earth, nearly six solid yards of which
guarded it from shell of ordinary cali
ber, and it was fitted up in a style
which assured a considerable degree of
comfort to its inmntes. This caused the
general to excuse himself to the cor
respondents who, he thought, might
draw comparisons with his quarters
and those of the soldiers. He said: "If
I had had this made for myself It
would in ail probability have meant my
being put on the retired list.”
As the correspondents left the gen
eral remarked: “You may go wherever ,
you like, but I cannot guarantee you ]
Immunity from shells or torpedoes. I i
wish you good luck. See that you ,
come back here and have tea with me." i
Shells ranging from two-inch pom- ,
poms to the big missiles from eight- j
lnck howitzers fell intermittently all i
around at the time. A well kept, wide i
and deep communication trench with a i
floor of earth In most places trodden
hard by thousands of feet led towards ,
the front line some 4,000 yards away. ,
To go through Its Intricate twistings ■
and twlnings meant a march of 10 ,
miles. The officer appointed as guide
however, decided that for some distance
at least it would be comparatively safe
for the party to proceed across the
open, as a slight haze in the atmos- 1
phere hindered the Germans seeing dis
tinctly any movements in the French
lines.
This progress, however, did not last
long. Shells began to fall with great
er frequency and It was decided to
adopt the more prudent course of en
tering the communication trench A
couple of miles’ march in Indian nie
led through a destroyed village con
Btantly under fire and breaches in the
trench parapet, especially in the vicin
ity of batteries, caused the party to
make sudden dashes with Intervals of
15 yards between each two men. Mean
while artillery fire became more in
tense and it was necessary to crouch
or lie down very frequently to avoid
the splinters of bursting shells.
In this way the front line wits
reached. The majors in command of
the two battalions holding the. ad
vanced positions themselves came out
of their dugouts to act as guides and
led the way to the parallel of assault
from which it was intended to start the
attack from the allied line. Only a few
men were on duty at the lookout posts
the others ail having taken shelter in
their “funkholes" while the artillery
was firing heavily. In the most ad- i
vanced sap, whence every detail of the i
opposing German trenches could be i
seen, the young lieutenant in charge :
kept constant watch and reported to a
telephone operator nearby the results -
of the French artillery fire. Just at the
moment the French trench mortars i
were busy and their great missiles, 1
weighing 600 pounds, could be watched
during their slow flight from the muz- '
zle of the gun to their destination. Each
one fell directly in the German trenches ,
some 200 yards from where the corre- '
•pendents stood, and the enormous !
black clouds of earth thrown up by the
explosions indicated that at least great
material damage was being done.
The return march was made for half
a mile along the parallel and was ren- 1
dered very interefting from the fact
that the occupants of a German aero- '
plane had noticed the movement in the 1
trench. They immediately began to
display an unfriendly spirit by drop
ping several' bombs, which, however,
did no damage. Meanwhile several
French flyers approached and a lively j
exchange of machine gun fire ensued
until the Germans returned to their i
own lines.
In the interval the correspondents!
FORMER N. Y. GIRL
IN LONDON SOCIETY
Lady Acheson.
Lady Acheson, a prominent fijsrure
(n Ixmdon society, was formerly Miss
Mildred Carter of New York. Like
so many other members of her set,
sho is enlisted in work for war suf
ferers,
ness of the firing to take refuge in tho
major's dugout. While there they could
hear much more plainly than In the
open the terrific bombardment by sev
eral hundred batteries then In progress
lri preparation for an attack by tho
British north of the Bomme, the earth
seemingly acting as a more delicate
conductor than the air. It was after
ward learned when the party returned
under cover of night to the general's
quarters that the British had taken 1,
000 prisoners and had made a further
advance.
Bragging Wee Wee.
Once upon a time five little rabbits
lived with their mother in a nice clean
pen. Wee Wee, tho smallest one,
thought himself very smart, much
smarter than any other rabbit that had
aver lived.
One day be said to bis brothers: "I
tan-fly Just like the birds if I wunt to.”
“Oh, no, you can't." said the oldest
me. “You can't fly any more than we
.an."
Wee Wee thought he could and said
bat the next day, when their mother
vent away, he would show them how
llgh ho could fly. The next morning
Mrs. Rabbit started out with her bas
tet for market and told the children
o be very good and not to get into
nlschlef while she was gone. Wee Wee
vinked to the other and said he would
ook out for them, for he was smarter
hun they were.
When Mrs. Rabbit was out of sight
IVee Wee said: “Now I will show you
hat I can fly.” He managed to climb
JP to the top of a fence and sat there
lust as ho had seen the birds do be
'ore they spread their wings for
'light.
Then he took one leap, and of course
ventlsprawllng down on the ground all
n a neap. He hit Ills head on a stone
ind cut it very badly, so badly, in fact,
hat It was all of a minute before be
ould stand on his feet again. All of
lis brothers laughed as hard as they
ould and would not help him to get
ip. This made Woe Woo so angry
hat ho said ho was going to try ic
tgain. His brdthers tried to stop i.'/n,
or they knew that their mother would
•cold them all if little Wee Wee was
mrt, but the bad rabbit climbed the
enee and again stretched out his neck
o try to fly.
Down he came, bump, bump, bump,
in the edge of the fence and caught
lis foot between the rails where be
lung. It tore a big piece of his skin
ind It began to bleed very badly. Just
hen his mother turned the corner and
aw poor Wee Wee all sore and bleed
ng. She helped him down and gave
ilm a sound spanking and sent him to
ied, for being such a foolish little rab
ilt as to think he could fly.
Wee Wee never tried to fly again,
md now. if he begins to tell what he
:an do, one of his brothers will say:
Don’t forget how you tried to fly,"
ind Wre© Wee stops bragging at once.
Slump in Reading.
We haven't time for magazines, nor
>atience with romances, for touring
ars and limousines have altered clr
umstances. We used to sit before the
ire, and read the story tellers, the
rents who punish sounding lyres, and
dl that bunch of fellers. We read up
Jomer, Milton, Bill—old Bill, the bard
if Avon, and strained our intellects
intil we had to rub some salve on.
Pile bookstores got our extra change,
vhen we went forth a-shopplng; but
low, alas—'tls sad and strange—old
ustoms we are dropping. Ere I went
laft on gasoline, and tires and clutch
md starter, I bought the works of
Vnna Green and Bertha Clay and Car
er. I read all kinds of helpful tomes,
ndorsed by church and college, I read
he tales of Sherlock Holmes, and
itored my mind with knowledge. But
low my books have vanished clean,
vith all their buckram facings; they
iad to go for gasoline and inner tubes
md casings. I gave John Milton for a
ire, and Pope to fix a puncture; I go
o soak my priceless lyre, to buy gas,
it this juncture.
Dull Campaign.
I wonder what's the matter! The
itatesmen rant and chatter, and yell
md scream and toot; but no one seems
UTrighted, and no one gets excited, and
10 one cares a hoot. We poor, down
rodden voters are busy with our mot
>rs, for now the roads are grand; we
laven't time to hurken to statesmen
md their barkin’ of perils In this land.
1'he weather’s most enchanting, so we
;o gallivanting, in "sixes, “eights” or
‘fours;” oh, who would list to yawping,
vhen autumn leaves are dropping, and
mnshine's out of door? Let statesmen
iprain the tissues of larynx, lung and
hroat; we will not linger near them,
ve will not pause to hear them, for
lere’s our choochoo boat. Who cares a
u-une or a prism for this or t'other ism,
since autumn zephyrs blow? Our prob
otn8 may be deeper—but gasoline Is
iheaper than 'twas a month ago. Tha
itatesmen talk and twitter, but where
s there a critter who’ll list 11 what
-hey say? The roads are ft no and
Isindy, the good tin car is handy, and
so we drive away.
What For.
Mrs. Bacon—I understand that Mra
Styles took her baby to the opera.
Mr. Bacon—What for, 1 wonder? The
ittie thing can't talk yet.
r
THE BEST MAN
Br
Grace Livingston Hill Lutz
Author of “Marcia Schuyler," "Dawn of the Morning,"
“Lc, Michael!” etc.
Philadelphia & London.
J. B. Lippincott Company.
1914. I
CHAPTER VIII—(Continued.)
Softly, reverently, he stooped and
brought his face close to the opening in
the curtains. Celia felt his eyes upon
her. Her own were closed, and by a
Huperhuir.in effort she controlled her
breathing, slowly, gently, as if she
were asleep.
He looked for a long moment, thrilled
by the delicate beauty of her sleeping
face, filled with an intoxicating joy to
see that her lips were no longer white;
then, turning reverently away, ho un
locked (Tie cfoor and stepped forth.
The other occupants of the car were
still wrapped in slumber. Rond snores
of various kinds and qualities testified
to that. A dim light at the further end
contended luridly, and losingiy, with the
daylight now flooding the outside world
and creeping mischievously into the
transoms.
Gordon closed the door of the com
partment noiselessly and went down
the aisle to the end of the car.
A door was open, and he could hear
vole’s outside. The conductor stood
talking with l wo brakemen. He heard
the words: “Three-quarters of an hour
at least," and then the men walked off
toward the engine.
Gordon looked across the country,
and for the first time since lie started
on his Journey let himself remember
that it was springtime and May.
There had been a bitter wind the
night before, with a hint of rain in the
air. In fact, it had rained quite smartly
during the ride to the hospital with the
hurt chilli, hut he had been so perturbed
that he had taken little notice of the
weather. Iiut this was a radiant morn
ing.
The sun was in one of its most
charming moods, when it touches
everything with a sort of unnatural
glory after the long winter of darkness
and cold. Every tree trunk in the dis
tance seemed to stand out clearly, every
little grass-blade was set with a glow
ing Jewel, and the winding stream
across a narrow valley fairly blazed
with brightness. The very road with its
deep, clean wheel-grooves seemed like
a well taken photograph.
The air had an alluring softness
mingled with its tang of winter that
marie one long to take a walk anywhere
out Into the world. Just for the joy of
being and doing. A meadow lark shot
up from somewhere to a telegraph pole,
let go its blithe note, and hurried on. It
was glorious. The exhilaration filled
Gordon's blood.
And here was the chance he craved to
slip away from the train before_ it
reached a place where he could be dis
covered. If he had but thought to bring
his suitcase! He could slip back now
without being noticed and get it! He
could even go without it! But—he could
not leave vlier that way—could he?
Ought he? Perhaps he ought— Tlut it
would not do to leave his suit-case
with her, for it contained letters ad
dressed to his real name. An explana
tion would of course be demanded, and
ho could not satisfy a loving mother
and brother for having left a helpless
girl In such a situation—even If he
could satisfy his own conscience, which
he knew he never could. Ho simply
could not leave her, and yet he must get
away from that train as soon us pos
sible. Perhaps this was the only op
portunity he would have before reach
ing Buffalo, and it was very risky, in
deed dangerous, to dare enter Buffalo.
It was a foregone conclusion that there
would be private detectives ready to
meet the train in Buffalo with full des
criptions and particulars and only too
vo.wlir in WO V with hi HI if thf»V
8
doors. Oh, if she but dared to run
away from him! But that she might
not do, for all his threats would then
probably be made good by him upon
her dear mother and brother. No, she
must be patient and bear to the end all
that was set down for her. But she
would get out and breathe a little be
fore he returned. He had very likely
gone into the smoker. She remem
bered that the George of old had been
an inveterate smoker of cigarets. She
would have time for a taste of the
morning while he had his smoke. And
if he returned and found her gone
what mattered it? The inevitable be
ginning of conversations which she so
dreaded would be put off for a time.
She never thought to come upon him
standing- thus alone, looking off at the
beauty of the morning as if he en
joyed it. The sight of him held her
still, watching, as his sleeping face
had held her gaze earlier in the morn
ing. How different he was from what
she had expected! How the 10 years
had changed him! One could almost
fancy it might have changed his spirit
also—but for those letters—those terri
ble letters! The writer of those let
ters could not change, except for the
worse!
And yet, he was handsome, intellec
tual looking, kindly in his bearing, ap
preciative of the beauty about him—
she could not deny it. It was most as
tonishing. He had lost that baggy look
under his eyes, and the weak, selfish,
cruel pout of lip she remembered so
keenly.
Then he turned, and a smile of de
light and welcome lit up his face. In
spite- of herself, she could not keep an
answering smile from glimmering
faintly in her own.
"What! You up and out here?” he
said, hastening closer to the step. "How
are you feeling this morning? Better,
I'm sure, or you would not be here so
early."
“Oh, I had to get out to the air,” she
said. “I couldn't stand the car another
minute. I wish we could walk the rest
of the way.”
“Do you?” he said, with a quick, sur
prised appreciation in his coice. “I was
just wishing something like that my
self. Do you see that beautiful straight
road down there? I was longing to
slide down this bank and walk over to
that little village for breakfast. Then
we could get an auto, perhaps, or a
carriage, to take us on to another
train. If you hadn’t been so ill last
night, I might have proposed it."
“Could we?” she asked earnestly. “I
should like it so much;” and there was
eagerness in her voice. “What a lovely
morning!” Her eyes were wistful, like
the eyes of those who weep and won
der why they may not laugh, since sun
shine is still yellow.
"Of course we could,” he said, “if
you were only able.”
“Oh, I’m able enough. I should much
much rather do that than to go back
into that stuffy car. But wouldn’t they
think it awfully queer of us to run
away from the train this way?”
"They needn’t know anything about
it,” he declared, like a boy about to
play truant. “I’ll slip back in the car
and get our suit cases. Is there any
thing of yours I might be in danger of
leaving behind?”
"No, I put everything in my suit case
before I came out," she said, listlessly,
as though she had already lost her de
sire to go.
“I’m afraid you are not able," ho
said, pausing solicitously as he scaled
the steps.
Phe was surprised at his interest in
her welfare.
“Why, of course I am,” she said, in
sistently. "I have often taken longer
walks than that looks to be, and I shall
feel much better for being out. I real
ly feel as if I couldn't stand it any
longer in there."
“Good! Then we’ll try it!"
Ho hurried in for the baggage and
left her standing on the cinder roadbed
beside the train looking off at the
opening morning.
could do 80 without being found out.
He looked nervously back at the door
of the car. Dared he attempt to waken
her and say that they had made a mis
take and must change cars? Was she
well enough? And where could they go?
He looked off toward the landscape
for answer to his question.
They were decidedly in the country.
The train stood at the top of a high
embankment of cinders, below which
was a smooth country road running
parallel to the railroad for some dis
tance till it met another road at right
angles to it, which stretched away
between thrifty meadow-lands to a
nestling village. The glorified stream
he had first noticed far up the valley
glinted narrower here in the morn
ing light, with a suggestion of water
cress and forget-nie-nots in its fringes
as it veered away under a bridge to
ward the village and hid itself in a
tangle of willows and cat-tails.
How easy It would be to slide down
that embankment, and walk out that
road over the bridge to the village,
where of course a conveyance of some
sort could be hired to bear him to
another railroad town and thence to
—Pittsburgh, perhaps, where he could
easily get a train to Washington. How
easily if only he were not held by some
invisible hands to care for the sweet
sleeper inside the car! And yet, for
her sake as well as his own, he must
do something, and that right speedily.
He was standing thus In deep medi
tation, looking off at the little village
which seemed so near and yet would
be so far for her to walk, when he was
pervaded with that strange sense of
Borne one near. For an instant he re
sisted the desire to lift his eyes and
prove to himself that no one was pres
ent in a doorway which a moment be
fore he knew had been unoccupied.
Then, frowning at his own nervousness,
he turned.
She stood there in all the beauty of
her fresh young girlhood, a delicate
pallor on her cheeks, and a deen sad
ness in her great dark eyes, which were
fixed upon him intently, in a sort of
puzzled study. She was fully dressed,
even to her hat and gloves. livery
wave of her golden hair lay exquisitely
in place under the purple hat, as though
she might have taken an hour or two
at her toilet; yet she had made it with
excited haste, and with trembling fin
gers, determined to have it accomplish
ed before the return of her dreaded
liege lord.
She had sprung from her berth the
instant he closed the door upon her.
and fastened the little catch to bar
him out. She had dashed cold water
Into her face, fastened her garments
hurriedly, and tossed the glory of her
hair Into place with a few touches and
what hairpins she could find on the
floor. Then putting on her hat, coat,
and gloves, she had followed him into
the outer air. She had a feeling that
■he must have air to breathe or she
would suffocate. A wild desire filled
her to go alone Into the great out-of
CHAPTER IX.
It was just at that Instant that the
thick set man In his berth not 10 feet
away became broadly conscious of the
unwonted stillness of the train and
the cessation of motion that had lulled
him to such sound repose. So does a
tiny, sharp sound strike upon our
senses and bring them Into life again
from sleep, making us aware of a state
of things that has been going on for
some time perhaps without our reali
zation. The sound that roused him
may have been the click of the state
room latch as Gordon opened the door.
The shades were down in the man’s
berth and the curtains drawn close.
The daylight had not as yet penetrated
through their thickness. But once
awake his senses were immediately on
the alert. Ho yawned, stretched and
suddenly arrested another yawn to an
alyze the utter stillness all about him.
A sonorous snore suddenly emphasized
the quiet of the car, and made him
aware of all the occupants of all those
curtained apartments. His mind went
over a quick resume of the night be
fore. and detailed him at once to duty.
Another soft clicking of the latch set
him to listening and his bristly
shocked head was stuck instantly out
between the curtains into the aisle,
eyes toward the stateroom door, just in
time to see that a man was stealing
quietly down the passageway out of
the end door, carrying two suit cases
and an umbrella. It was his man. He
was sure Instantly, and his mind grew
frantic with the thought. Almost he
had outdone himself through foolish
sleep.
He half sprang from his berth, then
remembered that he was but partly
dressed, and jerked back quickly to
grab his clothes, stopping In the oper
ation of putting them on to yank up
his window shade with an impatient
click and flatten his face against the
window pane!
Yes. there they were down on the
grornd outside the train, both of them:
man. woman, baggage and all slipping i
away from him while he slept peace- I
fully and let them go! The language
of his mind at that point was hot with
invectives.
Gordon had made hta way back to
i the girl's side without meeting any
norters or wakeful fellow passengers.
I But a distant rumbling greeted his
I cars. The watted for express was com
! Ing. If they were to get away, it must
be done at once or their flight would
be discovered, and perhaps even pre
vented. It certainly was better not to
have it known where they got off. He
had taken the precaution to close the
stateroom door behind ,him, and so it
might be some time before their ab
sence would be discovered. Perhaps
there would be other stops before the
train reached Buffalo, in which case
their track would not easily be fol
lowed. He had no idea that the evil
eye of his pursuer was even then upon
• him.
Celia was already on the ground,
looking off toward the little village
wistfully. Just how It was to make
her lot any brighter to get out of the
train and run away to a strange little
village she did not quite explain to
herself, but it seemed to be a relief to
her pent up feelings. She was half
afraid that George might raise some
new objection when he returned.
Gordon swung himself down on the
cinder path, scanning the track either
way. The conductor and brakemen
were not in sight. Far in the distance
a black speck was rushing down upon
them. Gordon could hear the vibration
of the rail of the second track, upon
which he placed his foot as he helped
Celia across. In a moment more the
train would pass. It was important
that they should he down the embank
ment, out of sight. Would the delicate
girl not be afraid of the steep incline?
She hesitated for just an in
stant at the top, for it was very
steep. Then, looking up at him, she
saw that lie expected her lo go down
with him. She gave a little frightened
gasp, set her lips and started.
He held her as well as he could with
two suitcases and an umbrella clutched
in his other hand, and finally, as the
grade grew steeper, he let go the bag
gage altogether, and it slid briskly
down by itself, while he devoted him
self to steadying the girl’s now inevita
ble and swift descent.
It certainly was not an ideal way of
traveling, this new style of “gravity”
road, but it landed them without delay,
though much shaken and scratched and
divested of every vestige of dignity. It
was impossible not to laugli and Celia’s
voice rang out merrily, showing that
she had not always wept and looked
sorrowful.
gvi JKJU null. «.6>tt.CU UUIUUI1 Ulix
iously, holding her hands asd looking
down at her tenderly.
Before she could reply, the express
train roared above them, drowning
their voices and laughter; and when
it was past they saw their own train
take up its interrupted way grumbling
iy, and rapidly move off. if the pas
sengers on those two trains had not
been deeply wrapped in slumber, they
might have been surprised to see two
fashionably attired young persons, with
hats awry and clasped hands, laugh
ing in a country road at 6 o’clock of a
May morning. But only one was awake,
and by the time the two in the road
below remembered to look up and take
notice, the trains were rapidly disap
pearing.
The girl had been deeply Impressed
with Gordon's solicitude for her. It
was so out. of keeping with his letters.
He had never seemed to care whether
she suffered or not. In all the arrange
ments, he had said what he wanted, in
deed what he would have, with an im
plied threat in the framing of his sen
tence in case she dared demur. Never
had there been the least expression of
desire for her happiness. Therefore it
was something of a surprise to find
him so gentle and thoughtful of her.
Perhaps, after all, he would not prove
so terrible to live with as she had
feared. And yet—how could anyone
who wrote those letters have any al
leviating qualities? It could not be.
She must harden herself against him.
Still, if he would be outwardly decent
to her, it would make her lot easier, of
course.
But her course of mental reasoning
was broken in upon by his stout de
nunciations of himself.
"I ought not to have allowed you to
slide down there,” he declared. “It was'
terrible, after what you went through
last night. I didn't realize how steep
and rough it was. Indeed I didn’t. I
don't see how you ever can forgive me.”
“Why, I’m not hurt,” she said gently,
astonished at his solicitation. There
was a strange lump in her throat
brought by his kindness, which threat
ened tears. Just why should kindness
from an unexpected quarter bring
tears ?
“I’m only a little shaken up,” she
went on as she saw a real anxiety In
his brown eyes, “and I don’t mind it
in the least. I think it was rather fun,
don’t you?”
A faint glimmer of a smile wavered
over the corners of her mouth, and
Gordon experienced a sudden desire to
take her in his arms and kiss her. It
was a strange new feeling. He had
never had any such thought about Julia
Bentley.
"Why, I—why, yes. I guess so, If you
are sure you’re not hurt.”
"Not a bit," she said, and then, for
some unexplained reason, they both be
gan to laugh. After that they felt bet
ter.
miserable cinders as mine are, they
need emptying,” declared Gordon, shak
ing first one well shod foot and then
the other, and looking ruefully at the
little velvet boots of the lady.
‘‘Suppose you sit down"—he looked
about for a seat, but the dewy grass
was the only resting place visible. He
pitched upon the suitcases and im
provised a chair. "Now, sit down and
let me take them off for you.”
He knelt In the road at her feet as
she obeyed, protesting that she could
do it for herself. But he overruled her,
and began clumsily to unbutton the
tiny buttons, holding the timid little
foot firmly, almost reverently, against
his knee.
He drew the velvet shoe softly off.
and, turning it upside down, shook out
the intruding cinders, put a clumsy
finger in to make sure they were all
gone; then shyly, tenderly, passed his
hand over the sole of the fine, silk
stockinged foot that rested so lightly
on his knee, to make sure no cinders
clung to it. The sight and touch of
that little foot stirred him deeply. He
had never before been called upon to
render service so intimate to any wem
and, and he did it now with half avert
ed gaze and the utmost respect In his
manner. As he did It he tried to speak
about the morning, the departing train,
the annoying cinders, anything to make
their unusual position seem natural and
unstrained. He felt deeply embar
rassed, the more so because of his own
double part In this queer masquerade.
Gella sat watching him, strangely
stirred. Her wonder over his kindness
grew with each moment, and her prej
udices almost dissolved. She could not
understand it. There must be some
thing more he wanted of her, for
George Hayne had never been kind in
the past unless he wanted something of
her.
She dreaded lest she should soon find It
out. Yet he did not look like a man who
was deceiving her. She drew a deep
sigh. If only it were true, and he were ;
good and kind, and had never written
those awful letters! How good and dear
it would be to be tenderly cared for
this way! Her lips dropped at the cor
ners, and her eyelids drooped in com
pany with the sigh: then Gordon looked
up in great distress.
“You are tired!” he declared, pausing
in his attempt to fasten the little pearl
buttons, "I have been cruel to let you
get off the train!"
“Indeed Fm not,” said the girl,
brightening with sudden effort. At
r
least, she would not spoil vhe kindness
while it lasted. It was surely better
than what she had feared.
“You never can button those shoes
with your fingers,” she laughed, as ha
redoubled his efforts to capture a^tiny
disc of pearl and set it into its small
velvet socket. "Heret I have a button
hook in my hand-bag. Try this.”
She produced a small silver Instru
ment from a gold-link bag on her arm
and handed it to him. He took it help
lessly, trying first one end and then
the other, and succeeding with neither.
"Here, let me show you,” she laughed,
pulling off one glove. Her white fingers
grasped the silver button hook, and
j flashed in and out of the velvet holes,
| knitting the little shoe to the foot in no
I time. He watched the process in humble
| wonder, and she would not have been a
human girl not to have been flattered
with his interest and admiration. For
the minute she forgot who and jvhat
he was, and let her laugh ring out mer
rily; and so with shy audacity he as
sayed to take off the other shoe.
They really felt quite well acquainted
and as if they were going on a day’s
picnic, when they finally gathered up
their belongings and started down the
road. Gordon summoned ail his ready
wit and intellect to brighten the walk
for her, though he found himself again
and again on the brink of referring to
his Washington life, dr some other per
sonal matter that would have brought
a wondering question to her lips. He
had decided that he must, not tell her
who he was until he could put her in an
independent position, where she could
get away from him at once if she
chose. He was bound to look after her
until he could place her in good hands,
or at least where she could look after
herself, and it was better to carry it out
leaving her to think what she pleased
until he could tell her everything. If all.
went well, they might be able to catch
a Pittsburgh train that night, and be in
Washington the next day. Then, his
message delivered, he would tell her
the whole story. Until then he must
hold his peace.
They went gaily down the road, the
girl’s pale cheeks beginning to flush
with the morning and the exercise. She
was not naturally delicate, and her
faint the night before had been the
result of a series of heavy strains on
a heart burdened with terrible fear.
The morning and his kindness had
made her forget for the time that*she
was supposed to be walking into a
world of dread and sacrifice.
“The year’s at the spring,
The day’s at the morn,”
“Morning's at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled—”
He waved an umbrella off to where a
hill flashed back a thousand lights from
its Jeweled grass-blades thickly set.
“The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn,”
went on Celia suddenly catching his
spirit, and pointing to a lark that dart
ed up into the blue with a trill of the
morning In his throat.
Gordon turned appreciative eyes upon
her. It was good to have her take up his
favorite poet in that tone of voice—a
tone that showed she too knew and
loved Browning.
"God in His heaven,
All’s right with the world,”
finished Gordon in a quieter voice, look
ing straight into her eyes. “That seems
very true, today, doesn’t it?”
The blue eyes wavered with a hint of
shadow in them as they looked back
into the brown ones.
"Almost—perhaps,” she faltered
wistfully.
The young man wished he dared go
behind that “almost—perhaps” and find
out what she meant, but concluded it
were better to bring back the smile and
help lier to forget for a little while at
least.
Down by the brook they paused to
rest, under a weeping willow, whose
green-tinged plumes were dabbling in
the brook. Gordon arranged the suit
cases for her to sit upon, then climbed
down to the brookside and gathered a
bunch of forget-me-nots, blue as her
eyes, and brought them to her.
She looked at them in wonder, to
think they grew out here, wild, untend
ed. She had never seen them before, ex
cept in pots in the florist's windows.
She touched them delicately with the
tips of her fingers, as if they -were too
ethereal for earth; then fastened them
in the breast of her gown.
"They exactly match your eyes!” he
exclaimed involuntarily, and then
wished he had not spoken, for she flush
ed and paled under his glance, until
he felt he had been unduly bold. He
wondered why he had said that. He
never had been in the habit of say-ng
pretty things to girls, but this g.rl
somehow called it from, him. It wes
genuine. He sat a moment abashed,
not knowing what to say next, as if he
were a shy boy, and she did not help
him, for her eyelashes dropped in a
long becoming sweep over her cheeks,
and she seemed for the moment not to
be able to carry off the situation. He
was not sure if she were displeased or
not.
Her heart had thrilled strangely as
he spoke, and she was vexed with her
self that it should be so. A man who
had bullied and threatened her for three
terrible months and forced her to mar
ry him had no right to a thrill of her
heart nor a look from her eyes, be he
ever so kind for the moment. He cer
tainly was nice and pleasant when he
chose to be; she must watch herself, for
never, never, must she yield weakly to
his smooth overtures. Well did she
know him. He had some reason for all
this pleasantness. It would surely be
revealed soon.
She stiffened her lips and tried to
look away from him to the purply green
hills; but the echo of his words came
upon her again, and again her heart
thrilled at them. What if—oh what 1f
he were all right, and she might accept
the admiration in his voice? And yet
how could that be possible? The sweet
color came into her cheeks again, and
the tears flew quickly to her eyes, till
they looked all sky and dew, and she
dared not turn back to him.
The silence remained unbroken, un
til a lark in the willow copse behind
them burst forth into song and broke
the spell that was upon them.
"Are you offended at what I said?”
he asked earnestly. "I am sorry if you
did not like it. The words said them
selves without my stopping to think
whether you might not like it. Will
you forgive me?”
“Oh,” she said, lifting her forget-me
not eyes to his, "I am not offended.
There Is nothing to forgive. It was—
beautiful!”
Then his eyes spoke the compliment
over again, and the thrill started anew
In her heart, till her cheeks grew quite
rosy, and she buried her face In the
coolness of the tiny flowers to hide her
confusion.
"It was very true,” he said in a low,
lover like voice that sounded like a
caress.
’’Oughtn't we to hurry on to catch
our train?” said Cello, suddenly
springing to her feet. “I'm quite rested
now.” She felt If she stayed'there an
other moment she would yield to ths
spell he had cast upon her.
With a dull thud of consciousness ths
man got himself to his feet and re
minded himself that this was another
man's promised wife to whom he had
been letting his soul go out.
(Continued next week.)
Since the beginning of the war ths
output of Swiss asphalt mines lias de
. ti eased. 1
