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"Think of her loving him, and actually being jealous of me! And, man-like, of course, he's never noticed it. For her sake, I hope he won't." She waited to gather a spray or two of wild crab-apple blossoms, then went home. She did not see Alden, but stopped to exchange a few words with Madame, then went on up-stairs. The long walk had wearied her, but it had also made her more lovely.
She turned quickly, saw that Madame was asleep, and stopped playing. "Go on," said Alden, in a low tone. "Please do." "I mustn't," she whispered, with her finger on her lips. "Your mother is asleep and I don't want to disturb her." "Evidently you haven't," he laughed. "Hush!" Edith's full, deep contralto took on an affected sternness. "You mustn't talk." "But I've got to," he returned.
"I intend to work my will, but I am a man of reason. You are entitled to a hearing state your objection, sir. Speak up!" The captain's answer was to raise his right hand and to loosen the cords securing the celluloid mask. As the Master watched, steadying his nerves against the shock of what he felt must be a nameless horror underneath, Alden tore away the mask and threw it upon the table.
"Please sing again, Miss Alden," said the gentleman who had first asked her. "I am an old man, and can't hope for many more such rich pleasures. I am not an amateur, and know only the music that reaches my heart." "Sing something from 'Lohengrin, Madge," said Henry Muir, quietly. She glanced at him, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes.
Very reluctantly Alden turned and moved toward them. "Did you speak, Mistress Mary?" inquired he as the party approached. "I I," stammered Mary blushing vividly. "It was I who bade her do so," interposed Priscilla with an impatient glance at the English girl whose honesty had spoiled her little finesse.
But forward they drove, and broke into a ragged, sliding charge up the breast of the dunes. "Hold your fire, men! Hold it then give 'em Hell!" the Master shouted. He was in the first wave of the assault. Close by came Rrisa, his brown face contracted with fanatic hate of the Beni Harb, despoilers of the Haram sanctuary. There, too, was "Captain Alden," grim with masked face.
The quick cry from the audience frightened Madge, whose face was turned away from the wreck. She swung around without discovering her rescuer. Some one had fallen on the stage. Phyllis Alden had reached her friend's side, not in time to save her, but to receive, herself, a heavy blow from the great bell that was suspended from the arch.
Sweet Madge Alden, hiding your infinite treasure, deceiving all and yet so true, may you have time! Miss Wildmere had promised to drive with Graydon on the following morning, but Madge felt as if heaven had interfered in her behalf, for the skies were clouded, and the rain fell unceasingly. People were at a loss to beguile the hours. Graydon, Miss Wildmere, and Mr.
"We shall miss his subtle wit in these delicate affairs of state." "Yes, and if it comes to blows we shall miss no less Stephen Hopkins's doughty arm," replied Bradford. "But sith both are gone, we had better leave the Elder in charge of the settlement along with Master Allerton, John Howland, who is a stout man-at-arms, John Alden, Gilbert Winslow, Dotey, and Cooke." "Seven men in all."
Mr. Alden P. Ricks, known in Pacific Coast wholesale lumber and shipping circles as Cappy Ricks, had more troubles than a hen with ducklings. He remarked as much to Mr.
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