Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 154, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 June 1911 — HAL O' TIE HIGHWAY [ARTICLE]

HAL O' TIE HIGHWAY

By George Bronson-Howard.

Copyright, The Frank A. Munsey Co. CHAPTER VII. The Majesty of the Law. What happened for some time after that was but a mystic dase to Mistress Anne. She remembered vagnely that her mother was laughing and “lalalng” at a great many things which Hal was .saying to her, and that Hal’s even white teeth Showed in many a merry Bmilo when he had made Mistress Alice Calvert giggle again. Whatever Hal Eager might be, it was certain that at some time not very tar distant he ha 1 been at the court of His Majesty and knew the ways, manners and customs of those who thronged about the tipsy Hanoverian and his scapegrace son, the Prince of Wales. Although Hal plainly wished to confine his conversation to Anne, this was not apparent to the others, and between listening to what Sir John Arundel bad to say about his acquaintances at the court, and the light badinage of Lady Mary and Alice Calvert, there was little chance of privacy between the highwayman and the girl he bad risked so much to see. Anne was divided between a feeling that she was very happy and a fearful premonition that some great sorrow was drawing nearer and nearer until she and Hal Eager should be enveloped in its folds. Proud she was certainly of a lover who made good his words to the degree of holding his life lightly, and coming into the very dragon’s maw as cheerily as though he traversed the forest heath.

So occupied was Anne with her thoughts that she could hear little of what was happening about her, and when all arose to get into their wraps for the ball she was the last to move. “I have bidden Mr. Counters escort you,” said Sir John pompously. “For I have certain matters to which I must attend immediately and which will somewhat delay my arrival at the scene of festivities.” He waved his hand to the door, and called out for the footman to summon the ladies’ maid, that their cloaks and dominoes might be brought them. Hal fell back in line with Anne. “Y ou wiir give me your hand for the first dance,” he begged. “I have much to say to you.” —- “Yes,” replied Anne faintly. And in a lower tone: “What danger you run! I fear for you!” “Am I not then fitly rewarded?” he replied gallantly. The ball was to he held in the mansion of the governor himself, Lord Baltimore, to whom Sir John was lieutenant and chief executive. Lord Baltimore, one of the Calverts, the first of whom had been originally granted the entire colony as a patent from King Charles the First, was a man of, easy habits and lovable ways, who left the affairs of the colony entirely in the hands of Sir John and who was alternately bullied and cajoled by that personage. . But in matters of entertainment, Lord Baltimore shone at his best, and his stately house was the scene of many festivities as gorgeous as any that might have happened over the water. The house was ablaze with a thousand candleß when the Arundel coach stopped before it, and long lines of coaches and carriages, saddle-horses and grooms, servants and torch-bear-ers, were drawn up before the imposing entrance. At the head of the steps the guests passed many footmen in livery, the white servants at one side, the negro slaves at the other; but servants of both colors in equally gorgeous attire. As the ball was a masked one, there was no announcement of names, it having been left to the servants' discrimination to detect others than ladies and gentlemen by their attire.

As the attire of the upper classes was most expensive and difficult to procure, the matter of dress went much more to distinguish rank than it does in n day of inexpensive tailoring. Many gaily dressed folk were pouring out of the equipages and ascending the steps; the three ladles escorted by the supposed Cecil Conniers mingled with this throng. Passing the servants into the long, hlgh-ceilinged hall, banked with flowers and heavy with the perfumes of the women, one debouched into a magnificent drawing-room in pale-blue upholstery, where those .remained who were not dancing or who had jnat arrived. Having surrendered thettftouter apparel to the servants la charo of that work, the four passed into t|e drawing room amid the many gailyg&Ured gallants and dames who brushed to and fro toward and from the ballroom opening off on the left It was a riot Of privilege, restrained only by the good breeding of the guests, for, being masked, none might know whom their neighbors were. A portly gentleman in plum color advanced and asked for the privilege of

the minuet from body Mary. and, having acceded, that lad; went her way toward the ballroom., Alice Calvert was likewise approached by a very dashing youth in crimson, had was not loath to accept his advances. Anne, too, several times had been .asked tor the dance, bat she had felt the restraining pressure of Hal Eager’s hand, and she bowed toward him as a hint to her solicitors. Alone together, Hal led her toward a portion of the drawing-room left in shadow by the candles, and hung over her chair while be looked down at her fair skin and her maddeningly bewitching hair. For some time he said nothing, and Anne broke the si- s lence nervously. “There comes another gentleman to night to whom I have promised some time,’’ she said. “He has ridden from Baltimore at my behest, and I may net say him nay.” Hal Eager unconsciously straightened. “Do I then intrude upon the grcnn-l of another?” he asked, and his vote? was maybe a little hard. “I know not," replied Anne, her coquetry to the foreground. Full well Anne knew that she cared liltte for Pulvey Littleton in the way he would have her care. This man had overshadowed all others in her estimation, and she was inward l v measuring the somewhat effeminate Pulvey with this fellow who dared so much and dared so debonnairly. “I know not,” reiterated Anne, then remembering that he was in danger, her voice grew very low. “Listen,” she said. “You have come here because I bade you come, and I fear for you. My uncle, Sir John, is much incensed at the trick you played him. He swears that he will have, you hanged as soon as he lays hands Upon you. You are in much danger.” Hal laughed musically: “Fear not for me. I have the >ld gentleman muzzled.. .He would be lieve nought of evil of the friend of Lord Winton. Remember that I was masked when I made him my victim.” His voice became a trifle apologetic.* “I knew not his relationship to you, Anne. Had I known, he would have escaped.”

“I care .not for that,” said Anne. “Uncle John is e’en such a tyrant that I fancy a little blood-letting would do him no harm. Come, let us danco.” They made their way into the bailroom and Joined the stately bowing throng in the minuet The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers jsnd women. The music was light, and the dance rhythmical. The poetry of it all permeated as one became a part of. the mass of gaily dressed men and charming women, all hidden in mystery by their masks, but withal conscious that liberty was not license and that breeding overtopped all. The dance ended, they went from the ballroom into a little receptionroom on the right, where many flowers lent an air of May-day to the affair. Alone they were with the hyacinths and the pinks and the roses—for none others had come within. “I know not that this Is proper,” said Anne with maidenly timidity. "Listen,” he said, and he caught her hand. “I am a man who has lived many lives in a few short years, and what I may feel comes more quickly to me than to others who lead dull, plodding lives and think ever of the morrow. I have come here for a glance of you. I ask not that you love me, far that were too much; nor that you marry me, for I am disgraced and an outlaw—” “Sir—” began Anne, but he continued, and drowned her words in the torrent of his speech. “Love has come to me. It is e’en too precious for me to disguise it with meaningless words. I love you, Anne, and that is the purest, sweetest thing that has ever come into my life. Think you not that I am a thief by choice. A year ago in England I killed a man who defamed a woman—my sister. .But he stood high with that debauchee, the Crown Prince, and ray life was worth not a copper ha’penny. I escaped here to the colonies, bat only to find that u warrant followed me and that danger stood me here. I might not go about without the fear of arrest And so, lurking in the highways and byways, I became what you know me to be—a highwayman, a petty robber, a thief, and not lit to touch the hand of Anne Arundel.” His impassioned speech had carried away her reserve. “Nay,” she said, and gave him her hand. He carried it to his lips, and his kiss burned, so fervent it was. “Listen, Anne -I ask you for no promise, bat 1 have made appeal for pardon. Perchance such a pardon may come to me. lam of good Mrtn. 1 have estates in England. When that time comes, is there a hope for me, Anne? TeH me!” He did not wait for 'a reply, hut 'went on: “The man whom I killed hath been disgraced at court and his on Tower Us crimes & Km% draw dp A request for pardon for myj

crimes and sent the same by the post to the king’s secretary, who was a friend of my father’s, and who will stand me well. Then Anne —” He bent over her, and her hot breath was on her cheek as she panted and gasped, her heart beating, her eyes round and expectant. He might have won what be wished had| he taken her into his arms and kissed her cherry lips. She waited, but the touch of his lips to be his, but he in his blundering masculine way—clumsy as are' all men truly in love—knew not that he had won his own cause and had but to take the prize. For he loved and respected the girl too much to do aught that was venturesome and which might perhaps lose him favor in her sight. She had taken him on honor when she came hither alone save for him, and he did not ~'dare to violate the confidence which she reposed in him. Nor was he able to read the signs aright Man-like, he expected a return of his love in spoken words if it came at all, not knowing that women, ever the pursued, care never to voice the love that they feel for the first time: or perhaps it is that they know not how they may do it and still retain their modesty. For a woman deals with a game that is new to her when she loves truly, and though a coquette skilled in the arts of flirtation and matters of like kind, Anne had never truly felt the divine passion before. “I love you, Anne, and I can say no more. If you will give me a hope, I will not rest until my pardon has

been secured or lam dead. Give me hope—say that you will wait a year - and-—” '• With- a sudden gasp, she caught hie hand. “Beware!” she said. “Others come within.” Quickly Hal straightened and plucked a rose from a near-by bush which bloomed from a pot of porcelain, and as the newcomers entered he was holding the rose toward .her. “A rose for a rose,” he said, and Jds tones were the light ones of ordinary converse. “Mine for yours—” Several gallants with fair girls on their arms sallied into the room and seated themselves, casting glances toward the two.

“Nay,” said Anne, rousing herself. “Not yet—that gentleman who cornea to the ball to seek me, I have told him that I shall be in pink and wear a pink rose; your rose is red, and be would not know me.” She had meant it not as a slight nor as a snub. She had hut thought it unfair to Pulvey Littleton to mislead him by wearing aught save what she had described to him. It was on her Ups to add, “When he has come, the rose is yours,” but at the sight of Hal tossing the rose to the ground and putting his heel upon it, her anger flamed up, and the words remained unsaid. She arose. “Come,” she said; “let us seek for him of whom I spoke. He would not know I am within—’’ Hal gave her his arm, and his heart was very heavy. \ mad jealousy for the of whom she spoke flamed out within him, and he gritted his teeth Ha was quite silent and went through the figures of the dance without a word to his partner. His high hopes had been dashed to the ground. He had been played with. (To be continued.)