The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, 1886-08-31

The resolution once taken was acted upon
with almost feverish zeal. Now that
he had again shaken Halls hand, had sat-
isied himself that the slim lad of nine
teen was still somewhere lurking behind
the veil of adipose matter surrounding
the man Of twenty-ninc, Barksdale
breathed IL long sigh OF relief. AS for
the squire, he was one of those guilcless
natures content to take things as they
find them. Barksdale's foreign airs ex-
cited in him wonder not unmixed with
amusement. He fell to specializing over
what the women would say to the coming
of this importation of fastidious elegance
into their impoverished household. In
old times Cherrycote had never specu-
lated; secure in homely plenty, it had
simply flung wide open its doors and bid
den the stranger IN.
"Suppose we walk the rest OF the way
Barksdale said, springing with alacrity
from his mouse-trap equipage. II have
so much to say to you, Hal, I don't know
where to begin"
"I don't walk much nowadays; but
STILL said the squire, getting down
in rather q breathless fashion, and
leading the mule. followed by Poss and
his snavined steed. along q road %carpeted
with pine tags and bordered with wild
honeysuckles.
II haven't asked you about your
wife," Lanceiot said, when it appeared
that the question could no longer in com
mon courtesy be deferred.
"Kitty2 Why, she's splendid" said
the squire, heartily. "And if you'll be-
lieve me, Lance, I've six young ones, all
girls. The old house is as full as ever,
but you'll find things down at the heel,
l reckon. The same story everywhere
~hereabout: no money, poor labor, no re-
pairs the lwomen struggling with in
efficient servants. worn out furniture,
worn-out clothes. But Kitty's temper
don't wear out, thank Godl You've not
forgotten what a splendid girl she was,
Lancet"
II have not forgotten her in the least -
his brother answered, in a tone of slight
constraint.
Launcelot thought of the time when
he had last seen Kitty Morris, then a
youthful cousin of Mrs. Barkdale's, on u
summer visit to Cherrycote. She was
standing in the deep grass of the old
orchard, under the cherry blossoms, in
the spring of 81. She was a mere slip
of a girl then, with large dark eyes, and
a weight of dusky hair upon her small,
proud head. He remembered the gown
she WORE, a sort of ~full-bodied, thin
white stuff. with;a sash of crimson, and
the trick she had. of intcrlacing her small
brown Southern fingers while She talked.
Never! ncver!" she had cried out, in
an ilnpetuous treble, the sound of which
still echoed in his cars. what 7 prom
ised was not to IN enemy of my country.
I would rather die than marry YOU"
She had faced him bravely, dctiantly,
two red spots flaming in her ordinarily
clear pale checks, but there was a trem-
bic IN her voice, us ii she would have
been glad to cry instead Of speaking.
Thus they had parted, and now Lance
lot was again to meet her as the wife Of
his halI-brother, the mother OF Halls six
girls. For a moment he felt | Ike turn
ing back upon the threshold of his visit.
but after poor littl. vagabond Poss had
been sent to the servants quarters in
quest of rcfreshmcnt for mar and beast,
the two walkers struck into a well re.
membcrcd path across the orchard lead
ing to the house. The berry blossoms
were again in bloom, and there, under a
green arcade of snow-laden boughs, was
seen a merry group of ladies and children
picking violets in the grass.
Lancclot caught n glimpse of Kitty,
recognizing her instantly. From the
girl of seventeen she had expanded into
a splendid beauty of twenty-seven, 1.-the
and brown as ever, with a rich color in
her cheeks, not in the least suggesting q
matron oppressed by many cares OF mater
nifty and housekeeping. Swarming
over her were a number of affectionate
small girls, and Mt a little distance sat
Mrs. Barksdale, the elder, looking thin
and care-worn, engaged in conversation
with n lady whom he dimly recalled as
another cousin of the by-gone days, then
II coquettiSh parsonage with dimples, and
wonderful plaits OF hair worn in a crown
around her head. The dimples were
still evident, though the checks had
faded, but the abundant braids were per-
ceptibly thinner. Barksdale took in all
these details, although he wondered ut
himself for observing them in face of the
immediate powerful impression made on
him by the first view Of his sister-in-law.
The color had receded from his face.
leaving him deathly pale. The trial had
been to the full as painful as he had ex-
pected. Often as it had presented itself
to his imagination, the reality of suffering
was not surpassed. Her face had shone
upon him like a star from Alpine heights,
across wintery seas, in desert reaches, at
the opera, in his dreams, on the pages of
his books, everywhere, anywhere, during
ten long years of absolute non-intcrcourse.
1t twas not until she had been his brothers
wife for several years that he heard at
all Of this marriage, seeming to him SO
extraordinarily incongruous and insult
able. He could not reconcile it with her
appearance, her manner, her p~retenslons,
now that he had seen her once again in
the splendor of young womanhood.
He felt as if he could not bear to see
husband and wife together, to hear Halls
rirlo cIoir hor n, thar ronk1,or H,&