THE WEST SHORE.
" I'.ut who in the woman? Where is she from?"
I irrrtijM nnw more, in a fctate of mystification
difficult to (I'ncril.
M IWd I yxihi Mn you who she vaa I don'd
know? I'lid tore ihe gomes from, py golly I don'd
iuk hr."
" Hut ht doe he want with me? Surely, she
mnut have given you &orno hint aa to the nature of
lor Imninn with me," I peraihted, desperately.
" D4 -znw ihe don'd dalk alx)ud, und Mees-t'-r
l'Ule, I am a yentleman, und I don'd shtick my
rum init dot lWa vooraan's jtfezneBs."
" Oh, certainly, I know you are a gentleman, Mr.
(JrarLt; I only thought ihe might have given you
mm hint a to the naturo of her business with me,"
I hanU iiod to answer.
M No, fcho gif me no hint; she yust say 1 Dell Mees
ter I'lako a lady vrom a var gountry haf gome many
rnilci U ieo him "
M Many mile," I mused, trying to imagine what
!ly would come many miles to see me. Surely it
ftuM not U Laura, my affianced wife, for only the
wk previous I had received a letter from her, guilt-1-m
of any hint of such a move on her part Besides,
I.wa wm U) sensible, modest and thoroughly lady
hU U have Un guilty of planning such a surprise
fur me. She never did anything in questionable
tUv Still, who could it lw I
M What is ,1m Jik,, Mr. Oracht?" I asked. " Is
he small and slender, with rosy cheeks and bright,
UujLing, brown eyes?"
" Yah," rinded Mr. Oracht, but I imagined
Wc, was a doubtful Win his eye. "Yah.dotees
tZ'ilnT rWhigndshlim,und
h Uf lolly cy,s, bud nM brown, I dink, und not in
d'ia innch laugh. She look in doso eyes liko sho haf
ll' dot grow in der Fal,rlamL"
A UjtlinK ; thought came to me-could Laura be
Z v I T ,UKht UrtKvl ,uo action. In
V ? ht rl V l-or, distal Dame!
fl U invn remanded tj Lis .ui, , i i
ratr to get acre the
mountains at all. No, surely it could not be my
Laura; but then, on the other hand, who could it be 1
So persistently did this problem present itself to
my mind, unattended by any shadow of solution, that
by the time I reached the little hotel in Yum Yum I
felt as though my brain were rapidly resolving itself
into a huge interrogation point
Without any delay mine host ushered me into his
. diminutive parlor, and went away to " pring dot lee
dle vooman."
Scarcely three minutes elapsed ere the door open
ed, and a lady entered. I use the word "lady " in its
finest sense, for in that first instant, the very way in
which she entered the room and closed the door con
veyed that intangible something which bespeaks a
creature born and bred within the magic circles of
refinement
One or two other convictions were borne in upon
me in that brief instant, while she closed the door.
First, that she was not Laura; and second, that I had
never seen her before.
I arose and bowed, as she came forward with her
eyes fixed earnestly on my face.
"Are you Mr. Charles Blake?"
Her voice was low and melodious as the tinkle of
bells softened by distance, yet there was an under
tone of intensity that told of strong feeling held in
restraint by an effort of the will.
" That is my name, madam," I replied, adding
quickly, as I saw the soft eyes fill with tears, "In
what way can I serve you?"
For reply, she drew a letter from her pocket,
which she unfolded and tremulously held toward me.
" Bid you send me this, Mr. Blake?"
I took the sheet in my hand, wonderingly, and
held it up that the light from the one window might
jail upon it With one glance I recognized the let
terthe one I had written at Roy Mason's dictation
a year before.
I staggered, and leaned on my chair for support,
while everything in the little room seemed swaying
and swimming about me in confusion.
" Yu are-you I stammered, my lips re
losing to frame the name.
" I am Edith Mason," 8he answered, in the same
1 Ded tone' "and y are the writer of this
ba iVr 5',U nt? You ere "h my-my-hus-baDd
in his last hours?"
I 1 could not speak.
to hJl aQ tdI me where he you can take me
grave, can you not, Mr. Blake?"
of mo ir?8' appealiDe ord tad been drops
uuiu?n iron tlioir a u . . . . ,
more
keenly.