Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 224, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 September 1912 — AS SEEN UNDER A TARNISHED MOON [ARTICLE]

AS SEEN UNDER A TARNISHED MOON

Neither Water Sprite Nor Spirit of Lake.

By KATHERINE HOPSON.

Wh en\K en n eth Maldon, tennisgarbed and carrying a racket, passed down the sandy, pine-bordered road leading from Sandoon hotel to the tenis court, he saw, instead of the athletic figure of Jean McNarth, who had agreed to join him there in a game,' a sunny-haired, organdy-clad vision seated on the bench in an attitude of strained expectancy. At his approach she rose and began to spell rapidly on her fingers and to motion across the lake. “Deaf and. dumb!” he ejaculated, and mentally called down - maledlctions on the faculty for not including the mute alphabet in his college course. “Where are your friends?, May I not see you to the hotel?” he began confusedly, and motioned in that direction. Her blue eyes watched' his hands, and she shook her head, again pointing toward the lake. He motioned inquiringly in the direction of Glen Echo, a small summer nodded a relieved smile breaking over her face. r~ “If I could only find out who she Is, and why she happens to be here alone!” he exclaimed, and vainly searched his pockets for pencil and paper. “Of course those articles are missing when I most need them. Well, anyway, it’s evident she wants to go across the lake.” By the water’s edge was tied a small rowboat and he led the way thither, pointed toward it, then again motioned questionlngly toward Glen Echo. She nodded, so he helped her into the boat, untied it, took the oars, and they started in that direction. The boat was supplied with cushions, and she leaned back like a confiding child. Though hatless, she carried a pale green parasol which brbught out the exquisite shell tint of her cheeks. Occasionally she glanced up with a smile, but for the most part kept her blue gaze downcast and watched the water, aB she trailed one little hand among the lily pads. After Maldon had guided the boat into the current, he put down the oars, rested against the cushions, and took out his pipe which he held up inquiringly. She shook her head, so he lighted it, and watched her through .the smoke. - “I don’t care to stare her out of countenance Just because she cannot speak or hear, but the temptation is jgreat,” he breathed. Perhaps her ‘fluffy femininity made a stronger appeal because of the fact that khaki and camping outfits were the rule, among the girls at the mountain resort where he was spending his vacation. ' “Such loveliness, and such an affliction!” he said. Every once in awhile, forgetful of the fact that she could not hear, Maldon broke out with a remark; but she paid no heed, unless she happened to be glancing that way, then she would give a . brave, pathetic little smile. Drooping, silver-leaved poplars bent over the water’s .edge, and the two seemed alone together on the heart of the lake. Over all was that peculiar silence, which, in lonely places, precedes the sunset All too soon for Maldon, they gained the opposite shore, and regretfully he helped her to alight He started to lead the way in the direction of the settlement of Glen Echo, but she shook her head and started down a winding path leading among the pines. When she had gone several rods she paused, and, standing on tiptoes with, a butterfly motion, placed one hand on his arm, the other against his broad chest, and touched his forehead with a soft, light . kiss. Then she gathered up her fluffy skirts and ran like some wild creature of the forest, and disappeared among the trees before the surprised man realized what had happened. In a moment he plunged after her, but all his eager, earnest search proved fruitless. The girl seemed gone from the face of the earth. Forgetful that she could not hear, he called and implored her to come back. Until darkness fell he searched, then retraced his steps back to Glen Echo, but nothing had been seen or heard of a girl who answered his description, and he was obliged to recross the lake with the mystery unsolved. Next day he returned, and for several succeeding days he made himself a nuisance with his attempts to find some trace of her. With a young man’s usual fear of ridicule, be said not a word about it to the other boarders at the hotel where he was staying. Jean McNarth, a lifelong chum, alone was taken into his confidence. Though sympathetic and interested to a satisfying degree, she could offer no solution. “Maybe she was a water sprite, or spirit of tbs lake,” she laughingly suggested; but promised to lend him her aid. JL ws»... .gaL-ftS^ l the days had lengthened into a week that a trace of her wan found. £ I—l . “The first of the week there was a bunch of college girls having a house party at the old Clemmons place, on the other side of-the hotel.” remarked Bam Clovis, the Sandoon postmaster "They’re aQ like# lookin'; and the’ young woman you describe may oe in

ter they mak« when they come tor their mail, they ain’t none of 'em deaf and dumb.” “You say they were here the first of the week; are they gone now?” demanded Maldon. < “Gone for awhile. Another girl on the other Side of the mountain invited them to finish out the week with her on the ranch. But I understand the whole bunch are cornin’ back ’Saturday night to attend the hop at the hotel where you’re stoppin’.” No further news was to be obtained from the old man; so Maldon was obliged to possess his soul in patience till the night of the dance. “Her affliction makes no difference to me; her eyes and her Bmile make up for all.” -—. / Saturday night he was on the hotel veranda when a large car drove up and six girls alighted. They made a pleasing picture, but with their long coats and enveloping veilß he could not distinguish one from the other. He stationed himself where he could see them come from the dressing room, and as he waited he felt the reaction from his keyed-up hopes. "Probably I am mistaken, and she isn’t in this crowd. It Is unlikely that I shall ever see her again. Oh, why., did I meet her, only to lose her so soon?”. He glanced out at the happy couples strolling up and down In the soft summer night, then, up at the moon which, to him, looked tranished and dull. “The light seems to have gone out," he said. ~ ~ So preoccupied was he that he looked up with a start at the sound of Jean McNarth’s voice saying: “Miss Lander, let me present Mr. Maldon.” He found himself looking into the blue eyes of a lady-idyl girl. "I’ll let Lillian do her own explaining," mischievously added Jean, and left them alone together. “I think I do owe you an explanation, Mr. Maldon,” laughed Miss Lander. For a moment he stared at her in blank amazement. “You —you speak?” he bluntly asked. “Quite fluently, I’ve been told," she gayly responded. His dazed faculties awoke with fervor. “We cannot talk here without interruption. Let us go where it is more quiet,” he suggested, and led tho way to a cozy corner of the veranda. ' - ■* * ■ “Really, Mr. Maldon, I owe you a big apology," she began when seated. “It all must seem like a dreadful mystery." “A delightful mystery—but perplexing.” “Walt till I tell you all,” she dimpled. “You see it is part of our seliority initiation to pose in some unknown place as being deaf and dumb, and trust to the first person we meet to guide us back in safety.” “But the disappearance act! How did you elude me?” “Just behind that big clump oP pines near where-we were standing is a hole among the rocks leading to a natural cave. There the other sorority girls were waiting for me. You kept us in captivity a long time that day while you scoured the woods.” “I couldn’t find a single trace of you and at last would have sworn it was all a dream if it hadn't been for—the end.” At the mention of that, she flushed a little. “We are obliged to thank our guides that way," she shyly explained. “In that case, I should like to be your guide—always,” he laughingly declared, but his keen eyes were very earnest. This time it was Maldon who took the initiative, and it was she who was surprised. And the old yellow moon, which a short time before had seemed to him so dull and tarnished, now shone brightly. (Copyright, 1912, by Associated Literary Pres's.)