NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
under the porch, her knees giving way 
after the supreme effort. The great 
storm broke as she crouched far back 
against the wall, her hands over her 
a 
cS\= 
5 — 
Shaw Swung the Ax Vigorously. 
ears, her eyes tightly closed. She was 
safe from wind and rain, but not from 
the sounds of that awfui conflict. The 
lantern jay at her feet, sending its ray 
out into the storm with the senseless 
fidelity of a beacon light. 
“Penelope” came a voice through 
the storm, and a second later a man 
plunged into the recess, crashing 
against the wall beside ber. Something 
told ber who it was even before he 
dropped beside her and threw his 
strong arm about her shoulders. 
He was crying something into her 
ear—wild, incoherent words that seem- 
ed to have the power to quiet the 
storm. And she was responding—she 
knew that eager words were falling 
from her lips, but she never knew 
what they were—responding with a 
fervor that was overwhelming her with 
joy. Lips met again and again, and 
there was no thought of the night, of 
the feud. the escupade, the Renwood 
ghost, or of aught save the two warm 
living human bodies that had found 
each other. 
The storm, swerving with the capri- 
cious mountain winds. suddenly swept 
their refuge with sheets of water. Ran- 
dolph Shaw threw the raincoats over 
his companion and both laughed hys- 
terically at their plight, suddenly re 
membered. 
LLL AC NL 
“We can’t stay here!” he shouted. 
“We can't go out into it,” she cried. 
“Where are we?” 
“Renwood’s,”’ he called back. Their 
position was uutenable He was 
drenched; the raincoats protected her 
as she crouched back into the most re 
mote corner. Looking about, he dis- 
covered a small door leading to the cel 
lar. It opened the instant he touched 
the latch. “Come, quick,” be cried, lift 
ing her to her feet. “In here—stoop! I 
have the light. This is the cellar. Ill 
have to break down a door leading to 
the upper part of the house, but that 
will not be difficult. Here’s ap ax or 
two. Good Lord. I’m soaked!” 
“Whe-where are we going?” she 
gasped as he drew her across the 
earthen floor 
“Upstairs. It’s comfortable up there.” 
They were at the foot of the narrow 
stairway. She held back. 
“Never! It’s the—-the haunted house! 
1 ean’t—Randolph.” 
“Pooh! Don’t be afraid. I’m with 
you, dearest.” 
“Il know,” she gulped. “But you 
have only one arm. Oh. 1 can’t!” 
“It’s all nonsense about ghosts. [ve 
slept here twenty times, Penelope. 
People have seen my light and my 
shadow, that’s all. I’m a pretty sub- 
stantia! ghost.” 
“Oh, dear, what a disappointment! 
And there are no spooks, not even 
Mrs. Renwood?” 
“Of course she may come back, dear, 
but you’d hardly expect a respectable 
lady spook to visit the place with me 
stopping here. Even ghosts have 
regard for conventionalities. She 
couldn’t”’ - 
“How much more respectable than 
1,” Penelope murmured plaintively. 
“Forgive me,” he implored. 
“] would, only you are so wet.” 
The door above was locked, but 
Shaw swung the ax so vigorously that 
any but a very strong nerved ghost 
must have been frightened to death 
once more. 
“It’s my house, you know,” he ex- 
plained from the top step. “There we 
are! Come up, Penelope. The fort is 
yours.” 
She followed him into the hall 
above. In silence they walked along 
the bare floors through empty rooms 
until at last he opened a door in what 
proved to be the left wing. To her 
surprise this room was comfortably 
furnished. There were ashes in the 
big fireplace, and there were lamps 
which bad been used recently, for 
they were filled with oil. 
“Here’s where I read sometimes,” 
he explained “I have slept on that 
couch. Last winter I came up here 
to hunt. My cottage wasn’t finished 
so 1 stayed here. I'll confess I’ve 
heard strange sounds—now, don’t shiv- 
er! Once or twice I’ve been a bit 
nervous, but I’m still alive, you see.” 
‘He lighted the wicks in the two big 
lamps while she looked on with chills 
creeping up and down her back. ‘Tl 
II 
have a buiiy fire in the fireplace in just 
a minute ™ 
“Let me help you.” she suggested, 
coming quite close to him with uneasy 
glances over her shoulders. 
Ten minutes later they were sitting 
before a roaring fire, quite content even . 
though there was a suggestion of 
amazed ghosts lurkiog in the hallway 
behind them. No doubt old mab 
Grimes and his wife, if they awoke in 
the course of the night, groaned deep 
prayers in response to the bright light 
from the windows of the haunted 
house. Shaw and Penelope siniled se- 
curely as they listened to the howling 
storm outside. 
“Well, this is trespassing,” she said, 
beaming a happy smile upon him, 
“I shall be obliged to drive you out, 
alas,” be said refiectively. “Do you 
recall my vow? AS long as you are 
a Bazelhurst, | must perforce eject 
you.” 
“Not tonight!’” she cried in mock dis- 
may. 
“But, as an alternative, you'll 
be a Bazelburst jong,’’ he 
eagerly, suddenly taking her bands 
into his, forgetful of the wounded 
left. “I’m going to try trespassing 
myself. Tomorrow i'm going to see 
your brother. It’s regular, you know. 
I’m going to tell the head of your 
not 
went on 
clan that you are coming over to 
Shaw, heart and hand” 
“Oh!” she exclaimed. ‘You--you— 
no, no! You must not do that!” 
“But. my dear, you are going to 
marry me.” 
“Yes—d—suppose so,” she murmured 
helplessly. “That isn’t what ! meant, 
I mean it isn’t necessary to ask Cecil. 
Ask me; Ili consent for him.” 
Half an hour passed. Then he went 
to the window and looked out into the 
storm. 
“You must lie down and get some 
sleep.” he insisted, coming back to her. 
“The storm’s tetting up, but we can’t 
leave here for quite a while. [ll sit up 
and watch. I’m too happy to sleep.” 
She protested, but her heavy eyes were © 
his allies. Soon he sat alone before the 
fire; she slept sound on the broad 
couch in the corner, a steamer rug 
across her knees. A contented smile 
curved his lips as he gazed reflectivel~ 
into the flames. He was not thinking 
of Mrs. Renwood’s amiable ghost. 
How long she had been asleep Pene- 
lope did not know. She awoke with a 
start, ber flesh creeping. A nameless 
dread came over her; she felt that she 
was utterly alone and surrounded by 
horrors. It was a full minute—a sick- 
ening hour, it seemed—before she real- 
ized that she was ip the room with the 
man she loved. Her frightened eyes 
caught sight of him lying back in the 
chair before the dying fire in the chim- 
ney place. The lights were low, the 
shadows gaunt and chill. 
[To BE CONTINUED.] 
Ce a nnn Inne ences 
