LT 
Cowardice 
Cor urt 
By 
GEORGE BARR M’CUTCHEON 
Copyright. 1906. Dodd Mead & Co. 
(CONTINUED. ] 
Her head grew light with the thought 
of those moments when their horses 
stood with muzzles together as if kiss- 
ing by proxy—the flush grew deeper, 
though her blood went cold and she 
trembled. 
A pitiful confusion seized her, an 
inexplicable timidity crept into her 
heart, replacing the bold assurance 
that had been recklessly carrying her 
on to him. It was as though some 
one had whispered the truth into her 
ear and she was beginning to believe. 
From that moment her courage be- 
gan to fail. The glow from her lan- 
tern was a menace instead of a help. 
A sweet timorousness enveloped her 
and something tingled—she knew not 
what. 
Spattering raindrops whizzed in her 
face, ominous forerunners from the 
inky skv The wind was whistling 
with shrill glee tn the treetops and 
the treetops tried to flee before it. A 
mile and a half lay between her and 
the big cottage on the hillside—the 
most arduous part of the journey by 
far. She walked and ran as though 
pursued, scudding over the road with 
a swiftness that would have amazed 
another, but which seemed the essence 
of slowness to her. Thoughts of rob- 
bers, tramps and wild beasts assailed 
ber with intermittent terrors, but all 
served to diminish the feeling of shy- 
ness that had been interfering with 
her determination. 
Past Renwood’s cottage she sped, 
shuddering as she recognized the stone 
steps and path that ran up the hillside 
to the haunted house. Ghosts, witches 
and hobgoblins fell into the procession 
of pursuers, cheered on by the shriek- 
ing wind that grew more noisome as 
her teet carried her higher up the 
mountain Now she was on new 
ground. She had never before explor- 
ed so far as this. The hill was steep 
and the road had black abysses out 
beyond its eedgs. 
She was breathless, half dead from 
fatigue and terror, when at last her 
feet stumbled up the broad steps lead- 
ing to his poureh Trembling, she sank 
into the rustic bench that stood against 
the wall ‘The tantern clattered to her 
feet, and the bag with her jewels, her 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
letter of credit and her curling irons 
slid to the floor behind the bench. Here 
was his home! What cared she for the 
storm? 
Even as she lay there gasping for 
breath, her eyes on the shadowy moon 
that was breaking its way through the 
clouds, three men raced from the sta- 
bles at Bazelhurst Villa. bent on find- 
ing the mad young person who had fied 
the place Scarcely knowing what di- 
rection he took, Lord Bazelhurst led 
the way, followed by the duke and the 
count, all of them supplied with car- 
riage lamps. which at any other time 
would have been sickening in their 
obtrusiveness. Except for Lady Eve- 
lyn the rest of the house slept the sleep 
of ease. 
Gradually Penelope recovered from 
the effects of the mad race up the hill 
The sputtering flame in the lantern 
ealled her into action. Clutching ir 
from the floor of the porch, she softly 
began a tour of inspection, first look 
ing at ber watch to find that it was 
the unholy nour of 2. Had some one 
yelled “Boo!” she would have swoon- 
ed, so tense was every nerve Now 
that she was here, what was she to do? 
Her heart came to her mouth, her 
hand shook, but not witb fear; a nerv- 
ous smile tried to wreak disaster to 
the concern in her eyes. 
The house was dark and still. No 
one was stirring. The porch was lit- 
tered with rugs and cushions, while 
on a small table near the end stood a 
decanter, a siphon and two glasses. 
Two? He had said he was alone ex- 
cept for the housekeeper and the serv- 
ants. A visitor, then. This was not 
what she had expected. Her heart 
sank. It would be hard to face the 
master of the house, but—a stranger? 
Cigarette stubs met her bewildered, 
troubled gaze-many of them. Deduc- 
tion was easy out there in the lonely 
night.. It was easy to see that Shaw 
and his companion sat up so late that 
the servants had gone to bed. 
Distractedly she looked about for 
means of shelter on the porch until 
daylight could abet her in the flight to 
the village beyond. The storm was 
sure to come at no far distant time. 
She knew and feared the violence of 
the mountain rains. 
“By all that’s holy,” came in a man’s 
voice, low toned and uncertain, “it 
isn’t a dream, after all!” 
She turned like a flash, with a star- 
tled exclamation and an _ instinctive 
movement as if to shield herself from 
unbidden gaze. Her lips parted, and 
her heart pounded like a hammer. 
Standing in the doorway was Randolph 
Shaw, his figure looming up like a 
monstrous, wavering genie in the un- 
certain light from the shaking lantern. 
His right hand was to his brow, and 
his eyes were wide with incredulous 
joy. She noticed that the left sleeve 
of his dinner jacket hung limp and that 
the arm was in a white sling beneath. 
“Is it really you?" he cried, his hand 
Ey 
going instinctively to his watch pocket 
as if doubting that it was night instead 
of morning. 
“T’ve—I’ve run away from them!” 
she stammered. “It’s 2 o’clock. Don’t 
look. Oh, I’m so sorry now! Why 
did I’— 
“You ran away?’ he exclaimed, com- 
ing toward her. “Oh, it can’t be a 
dream! You are there, aren’t you?” 
She was a pitiable object as she stood 
there, powerless to retreat, shaking 
like a leaf. He took her by the shoul- 
der. “Yes, itis you. Good Lord, what 
does it mean? What has happened? 
How did you come here? Are you 
alone?” 
“Utterly, miserably alone! Oh, Mr. 
Bhaw!” she cried despairingly. “You 
will understand, won’t you?” 
“Never! Never as long as I live. It 
ls beyond comprehension. The won- 
derful part of it all is that I was sit- 
ting there dreaming of you—yes, I was. 
I heard some one out here, investigated 
and found you—you, of all people in 
the world. And I was dreaming that 
I held you in my arms. Yes, I was. 
I was dreaming it”— 
“Mr. Shaw! You shouldn’t’— 
“And I awoke to find you—not in 
my arms, not in Bazelhurst Villa, but 
here—here on my porch.” 
“Like a thief in the night,” she mur- 
mured. “What do you think of me?” 
“Shall I tell you—really?” he cried. 
The light in his eyes drove her back 
a step or two, panic in her heart. 
“| suppose you think I’m perfectly 
crazy.” 
