LITMIR.BIZ

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he said some people had been killed yesterday on that very road.

      “He said you would have to drive like the—the very devil if you got here in twenty minutes.”

      “We did, Uncle Caspar,” interrupted Miss Guggenslocker, naively. “Our driver followed Mr. Lorry’s instructions.”

      Mr. Grenfall Lorry blushed and laughed awkwardly. He had been admiring her eager face and expressive eyes during Uncle Caspar’s recital. How sweet her voice when it pronounced his name, how charming the foreign flavor to the words.

      “He would not have understood if I had said other things,” he explained, hastily.

      “When your aunt and I returned to the train we saw the conductor holding his watch. He said to me: ‘In just three minutes we pull out. If they are not here by that time they can get on the best they know how. I’ve done all I can: I did not say a word, but went to my section and had Hedrick get out my pistols. If the train left before you arrived it would be without its conductor. In the meantime, your Aunt Yvonne was pleading with the wretch. I hastened back to his side with my pistols in my pocket. It was then that I told him to start his train if he dared. That man will never know how close he was to death. One minute passed, and he coolly announced that but one minute was left. I had made up my mind to give him one of my pistols when the time was up, and to tell him to defend himself. It was not to be a duel, for there was nothing regular about it. It was only a question as to whether the train should move. Then came the sound of carriage wheels and galloping horses. Almost before we knew it you were with us. I am so happy that you were not a minute later.”

      There was something so cool and grim in the quiet voice, something so determined in those brilliant eyes, that Grenfall felt like looking up the conductor to congratulate him. The dinner was served, and while it was being discussed his fair companion of the drive graphically described the experience of twenty strange minutes in a shackle-down mountain coach. He was surprised to find that she omitted no part, not even the hand clasp or the manner in which she clung to him. His ears burned as he listened to this frank confession, for he expected to hear words of disapproval from the uncle and aunt. His astonishment was increased by their utter disregard of these rather peculiar details. It was then that he realized how trusting she had been, how serenely unconscious of his tender and sudden passion. And had she told her relatives that she had kissed him, he firmly believed they would have smiled approvingly. Somehow the real flavor of romance was stricken from the ride by her candid admissions. What he had considered a romantic treasure was being calmly robbed of its glitter, leaving for his memory the blurr of an adventure in which he had played the part of a gallant gentleman and she a grateful lady. He was beginning to feel ashamed of the conceit that had misled him. Down in his heart he was saying: “I might have known it. I did know it. She is not like other women.” The perfect confidence that dwelt in the rapt faces of the others forced into his wondering mind the impression that this girl could do no wrong.

      “And, Aunt Yvonne,” she said, in conclusion, “the luck which you say is mine as birthright asserted itself. I escaped unhurt, while Mr. Lorry alone possesses the pain and unpleasantness of our ride.”

      “I possess neither,” he objected. “The pain that you refer to is a pleasure.”

      “The pain that a man endures for a woman should always be a pleasure,” said Uncle Caspar smilingly.

      “But it could not be a pleasure to him unless the woman considered it a pain,” reasoned Miss Guggenslocker. “He could not feel happy if she did not respect the pain.”

      “And encourage it,” supplemented Lorry, drily. “If you do not remind me occasionally that I am hurt, Miss Guggenslocker, I am liable to forget it.” To himself he added: “I’ll never learn how to say it in one breath.”

      “If I were not so soon to part from you I should be your physician, and, like all physicians, prolong your ailment interminably,” she said, prettily.

      “To my deepest satisfaction,” he said, warmly, not lightly. There was nothing further from his mind than servile flattery, as his rejoinder might imply. “Alas!” he went on, “we no sooner meet than we part. May I ask when you are to sail?”

      “On Thursday,” replied Mr. Guggenslocker.

      “On the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse,” added his niece, a faraway look coming into her eyes.

      “We are to stop off one day, tomorrow, in Washington,” said Aunt Yvonne, and the jump that Lorry’s heart gave was so mighty that he was afraid they could see it in his face.

      “My uncle has some business to transact in your city, Mr. Lorry. We are to spend tomorrow there and Wednesday in New York. Then we sail. Ach, how I long for Thursday!” His heart sank like lead to the depths from which it had sprung. It required no effort on his part to see that he was alone in his infatuation. Thursday was more to her than his existence; she could forget him and think of Thursday, and when she thought of Thursday, the future, he was but a thing of the past, not even of the present.

      “Have you always lived in Washington, Mr. Lorry?” asked Mrs. Guggenslocker.

      “All my life,” he replied wishing at that moment that he was homeless and free to choose for himself.

      “You Americans live in one city and then in another,” she said. “Now, in our country generation after generation lives and dies in one town. We are not migratory.”

      “Mr. Lorry has offended us by not knowing where Graustark is located on the map,” cried the young lady, and he could see the flash of resentment in her eyes.

      “Why, my dear sir, Graustark is in—” began Uncle Caspar, but she checked him instantly.

      “Uncle Caspar, you are not to tell him. I have recommended that he study geography and discover us for himself. He should be ashamed of his ignorance.”

      He was not ashamed, but he mentally vowed that before he was a day older he would find Graustark on the map and would stock his negligent brain with all that history and the encyclopedia had to say of the unknown land. Her uncle laughed, and, to Lorry’s disappointment, obeyed the young lady’s command.

      “Shall I study the map of Europe, Asia or Africa?” asked he, and they laughed.

      “Study the map of the world,” said Miss Guggenslocker, proudly.

      “Edelweiss is the capital?”

      “Yes, our home city,—the queen of the crags,” cried she. “You should see Edelweiss, Mr. Lorry. It is of the mountain, the plain and the sky. There are homes in the valley, homes on the mountain side and homes in the clouds.”

      “And yours? From what you say it must be above the clouds—in heaven.”

      “We are farthest from the clouds, for we live in the green valley, shaded by the white topped mountains. We may, in Edelweiss, have what climate we will. Doctors do not send us on long journeys for our health. They tell us to move up or down the mountain. We have balmy spring, glorious summer, refreshing autumn and chilly winter, just as we like.”

      “Ideal! I think you must be pretty well toward the south. You could not have July and January if you were far north.”

      “True; yet we have January in July. Study your map. We are discernible to the naked eye,” she said, half ironically.

      “I care not if there are but three inhabitants Graustark, all told, it is certainly worthy of a position on any map,” said Lorry, gallantly; and his listeners applauded with patriotic appreciation. “By the way, Mr. Gug—Guggenslocker, you say the conductor asked you for my name and you did not know it. May I ask how you learned it later on?” His curiosity got the better of him, and his courage was increased by the champagne the old gentleman had ordered.

      “I did not know your name until my niece told it to me after your arrival in the carriage,” said Uncle Caspar.

      “I don’t remember giving it to Miss Guggenslocker at any time,” said Lorry.

      “You

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