Way Down East | Page 4

of heavy white cloth, that hung in rich folds about her
exquisite figure, that might have seemed over-developed in a girl of
eighteen, were it not for the long slender throat and tapering waist of
more than usual slenderness.
The dark hair was coiled high on top of the shapely head, and a few
tendrils strayed about her neck and brow. She wore no ornaments--not
even the simplest pin.
She was curled up in a great leather chair, in front of the open fire,
playing with a white angora kitten, who climbed upon her shoulder and
generally conducted himself like a white ball of animated yarn. It was
too bad that there was no painter at hand to transfer to canvas so lovely
a picture as this girl in her white frock made, sitting by the firelight in
this mellow old room, playing with a white imp of a kitten. It would
have made an ideal study in white and scarlet.
How comfortable it all was; the book-lined walls, the repose and
dignity of this beautiful home, with its corps of well-trained servants
waiting to minister to one's lightest wants. The secure and sheltered
feeling that it gave appealed strongly to the girl, who but a little while
ago had enjoyed similar surroundings in her father's house.
And then, there had been that awful day when her father's wealth had
vanished into air like a burst bubble, and he had come home with a
white drawn face and gone to bed, never again to rise from it.

Anna did not mind the privations that followed on her own account, but
they were pitifully hard on her invalid mother, who had been used to
every comfort all her life.
After they had left New York, they had taken a little cottage in
Waltham, Mass., and it was here that Mrs. Standish Tremont had come
to call on her relatives in their grief and do what she could toward
lightening their burdens. Anna was worn out with the constant care of
her mother, and would only consent to go away for a rest, because the
doctor told her that her health was surely breaking under the strain, and
that if she did not go, there would be two invalids instead of one.
It was at Mrs. Tremont's that she had met Lennox Sanderson, and from
the first, both seemed to be under the influence of some subtle spell that
drew them together blindly, and without the consent of their wills. Mrs.
Tremont, who viewed the growing attraction of these two young people
with well-concealed alarm, watched every opportunity to prevent their
enjoying each other's society. It irritated her that one of the wealthiest
and most influential men in Harvard should take such a fancy to her
penniless young relative, instead of to Grace Tremont, whom she had
selected for his wife.
There were few things that Mrs. Tremont enjoyed so much as arranging
romances in everyday life.
"Pardon me, Miss Moore," said the butler, standing at her elbow, "but
there has been a telephone message from Mrs. Tremont, saying that she
and Mrs. Endicott have been detained, and will you be kind enough to
explain this to Mr. Sanderson." Anna never knew what the message
cost Mrs. Tremont.
A moment later, Sanderson's card was sent up; Anna rose to meet him
with swiftly beating heart.
"What perfect luck," he said. "How do I happen to find you alone?
Usually you have a regiment of people about you."
"Cousin Frances has just telephoned that she has been detained, and I

suppose I am to entertain you till her return."
"I shall be sufficiently entertained if I may have the pleasure of looking
at you."
"Till dinner time? You could never stand it." She laughed.
"It would be a pleasure till eternity."
"At any rate," said Anna, "I am not going to put you to the test. If you
will be good enough to ring for tea, I will give you a cup."
The butler brought in the tea. Anna lighted the spirit lamp with pretty
deftness, and proceeded to make tea.
"I could not have taken this, even from your hands last week,
Anna--pardon me, Miss Moore."
"And why not? Had you been taking pledges not to drink tea?"
"It seems to me as if I've been living on rare beef and whole wheat
bread ever since I can remember----"
"Oh, yes, I forgot about your being in training for the game, but you did
so magnificently, you ought not to mind it. Why, you made Harvard
win the game. We were all so proud of you."
"All! I don't care about 'all.' Were you proud of me?"
"Of course I was," she answered with the loveliest blush.
"Then it is amply repaid."
"Let me