The banner-enterprise. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1883-18??, 1883-10-27
the WHEELWRIGHT OF SEN.
NEVILLE.
A TALE OF NORMANDY.

lage of Senneville upon a certain autumn
afternoon. The sky was cloudy, the
wind cold, and drizzling rain beat in my
face. The road to Senneville, ascending
almost lmperceptibly all the way, takes
zigzag direction among the hills, varying
the scenery at every step. At one mo-
ment you are locking at steep wooded
slope, which you imagine will have to be
climbed, but around which you gradually
pass; at another moment deep valley
meets the eye, with many valleys and
hills beyond. Then suddenly, without
turning the head, you find yourself star
Ing at the distant port Of FecaTp far be-
low; and then away out among the hills
and the valleys once more.
The hills on this autumn afternoon
were thlnly yelled with white mist,
drifting inland before a strong sea breeze.
It was mysterious sort of mist, which
moved at fixed level, never descending
into the valleys, but sweeping always
over them, and touching only the higher
points of the land like passing shroud.
The rediening leaves upon the trees
shivcred and dripped and shivered again
with sound which seemed 10 melancholy
that was fan to quicken my step and
look about for house or some human
being along the road, in order to remove
the feeling of sadness which crept over
me. But there are no houses to be seen
along this route, only chalet here and
there half hidden in a grove of fir trees;
and not single person did meet COM
ing or going.
1t was therefore with sense of con-
siderable relief that | presently came
upon the broad highway, stretching
straight as dart across fiat extent of
country, where isolated farms, surrounded
snugly with trees, we're to be seen looking
like groves planted in well-defined
squares. Some PAGES back from the road
close at hand, was the old village inn for
which | was bound. Beside this auberge
at Senncville there are two or three cot
tages, and there is, between them and
the inn, wheelwright's house and shed.
This group of buildings stand alone on
the main road. The village, which is
composed Of scattered we'lngs opposite
to the inn across the fields, extends in
the direction Of the sea, but is partly
concealed behind trees, where the church
steeple rises up, the only prominent object
on this misty afternoon.
As approached the inn and was pass.
ing the wheclwright's | heard angry
voices, as though in dispute, and as |
came nearer | saw two figures standing
within the shed-a young man whom |
recognized as the wheelwright and girl,
the daughter of the aubergiste next door.
The man had forbidding face, and at
this moment, when his small black eyes
were flashing with anger and his thick
Jaw firmly set, it was the face of an IMP
of darkness. He was short, almost
dwarfsh, and in his hand, with his pow
eriul arm uplilted, he held large ham,
mer jealous said he, striking
heavy blow on the iron hoop at which he
was working, "Havc not good reason
to be jealous2 lie is. always coming
here
''That is not true, Faubert, said the
girl, quickly; che seldom comes near
Senneyille. She cast at the man an
indignant glance, and her large eyes filled
with tears.
"Ah," said Faubert, with another
heavy blow, II don't know that You
meet hlm-that's evident. saw you at
Fccamp, in the market place together
last Saturday. Is not that true, Ma
REF"
Marie folded her arms, and, raising her
handsome face, replied: what thenY
There is no harm in that.
The wheelwright answered in pas
sionatc tone, though too low for the
words to reach me. AT the same time
he struck heavy blows upon the iron hoop
one after another, in manner which
bore significance in every stroke. Then,
looking up, he caught sight OF me, and
his angry expression softcned as he
slightly raised his cap.
The girl turned and welcomed me with
a smile struggling through her tears.
Good evening, Monsiur Parker, said
she. She led the way as she spoke to-
wards the aubcrge. followed, the sound
of the wheelwright's hammer still ringing
in my ears as stepped into the inn,
On the left hand side Of the entrance
there was a cafe, with wooden tables and
chairs ranged round the walls, where |
saw through the glass door some work
men, talking loudly, drinking, and play
ing dominos. The room on the opposite
side, which | now entered, was half cafe,
half kitchen. A long table stood under
the windows; and at the end OF this table,
nearest to the fire, was seated, with a cup
of coffee and glass of cognac at his ell
bow, youth in fur overcoat, with his
legs stretched out towards the fire smok'
ing cigar. =, -,
"Stili raining, Marie?' said he, touch.
ing his small pointed moustache. =.
"Yes. NJ. Leonard, said Marie, still
raining.
He blew cloud of smoke gracefully
from his lps. Accountable u said he,
with gesture OF impatienee. us it not,
Monsiur2"
seated myself near him at the table.
"Do YOU return to Fecamp tonight p
Inquired.
Marie, who was stooplng over the fire
to serve me with coffee from an earthen
pot upon the hearth, looked up into his
face anxiously for the reply.
"Yes," said he. "The fact is, | must
be back in Fecamp before o'clock. We
have some old friends coming TO dine
with us; and" he added, "The worst of
it is. must walk.
"Not pleasant" said |. 'The night
will be dark. The road is dangerous. "
UDanoerons 9f said he with surnr,se.