Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1886-09-30
PHILIP ANNERSLEY'S PRIDE,
BY r. ROCHON.
CHAPTER l.

Brightly the sun shone, sweetly the birds
carolled that balmy May afternoon, and
there was nothing fairer in nature than the
face of Maude Hammer, the young school
mistress, as, her duties over, she fingered
on her way homeward, TO enjoy the beauti-
full day-now plucking n violet from its
mossy bed, listening 10 the merry tinkle of
the little brook, then softly humming to
herself snatches of an old song.
A girls face still; for Maude's seventeen
years, although they had given her knowl-
edge enough to teach the little school of
Acton, had not fully nodded her form,
filled out the outlines, or given a womanly
character to the sweet young face. Her
chestnut hair, with here and there a golden
CLEAN in it (reminding one of Titian's
women), clustered in thick, short rings over
the we'll shaped head, half revealing, half
concealing, the little ears. The eyes were
clear, blue, and frank as a child's-a faint
rose-tint on her cheek, dainty hand and
foot-she was sight to gladden. the eye.
So thought Philip Annersley, as he rode
slowly by, fatigued by his long ride, and
reins h-nging carelessly on his horses
neck: and Maude, lifting her eyes with a
look of curiosity, encountered those Of the
handsome stranger.
Raising his hat, he inquired, courteously,
Can you direct me to the house OF the late
Mr.. MorantP"
Easily" she replied. at is the large
house upon the hill. You catch o glimpse
of it through the trees"
Thanking her, he passed on; and Maude
blushed as she recalled the evident admira-
tlun cApI.ssS'1 a. 49, -i,,-----,- .
Philip Annersley was the only son OF a
rich widow. His father died when he was
but an infant, leaving him and sister, a
Nouy hto uaninr to tha Ou1a rdIanEhln Of
Mrs. Annersley. Imperious to others, yet
always indulgent to Philip, she had graf
fled his slightest wish, yet never allowed
him, for an instant, to forget that the old
Annersley pride and blood must not be
shamed by word or deed Of his. And, as
the result of her judicious training, more
than any one in the world, Philip loved
and reverenced his mother.
With much that was noble in his nature
that had never been called forth, naughty
to strangers, gentle as q woman to those he
loved, it was not strange that women Hat
tered him, or that his talents and social
position made him favorite with his own
sex.
Tired of home scenes, he had wandered
in foreign lands, and seen all that the con-
tinent holds wonderful. Pleasure held al
ways foaming cup for him to drink yet he
had returned to his mother "heart- whole
and fancy Free"
The death of an uncle had left him heiI
to his estates; and il was to examine his
new possession that he now visited Acton.
He found all as it had been during his
uncle life; even the old servants seemed
not day older than when he had spent the
vacations of his boyhood with his fathers
| only brother.
After his solitary dinner, as he reclined
| at ease upon the luxurious sofa, the house
keeper entered 10 ask which room should
be prepared for him. The desired infor-
nation being given, as she was leaving the
| room
"By the way, Mrs. Lyle, who are my
nearest neiehbors?" he asked, apparently
intent upon watching the blue smoke of hi;
cigar curl lazily upward.
"The Monsons, sir, live in the white
house yonder, during the summer; Squire
Bruce in the brick one close by"
"Are these the only families of note il
the neighborhood?" he next asked, in tn,
same careless tone.
| "Thcre are none others you would carC
to associate WITH" returned the house
keeper.
How know you that?" said Philil
Annersley, and q smile played over hi
handsome face.
"I knew your mother; and 1 well remem
ber how particular she was not to mix IL
society beneath her."
"Then you imagine, as a matter o.
course" replied the young man, "that
must share in her prejudices."
IL have been led 10 believe SO, returned
the housekeeper, evidently not at her eas'
at the turn the conversation had taken.
"Huml" and Philip Annerslcy muse'
with himself for few moments. Present
ly he asked, "Who lives in tho brown cot
tage, at the foot of the hill2"
"Farmer Grant, SIR" she answered.
81 inquired the way there this afternoon
my memory not serving me correctly.
young lady informed me. Mr.. Grant
daughter?"
"Law, no! that must have been Mis-
Hammer. the schoolmistress. John Gran
has no girls"
"Ahl / shall want breakfast at sever
Mrs. Lyle, as l can remain here but fe'
days"
But n pair Of blue eyes peeped ont froI
the smoke cloud over his head, and In hi
dreams that night they looked at him wit
q childish, wistful look.
/