Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-12-27
C0LQNELQUARITCH,V
By H. RIDER HAGGARD.
CHAPTER I.
HAROLD ouARrrcH MEpITATEs

 on sensitive plate and there remain unal- | terably fixed. To take the case of face we may never see 1t again, or it may become 1 the companion of our life; but there the pict- l ure is just as we first knew 1t, the same smile 1 the same look, unaltering and unalterable, l reminding us in the midst of change of the absolutely indestructible nature of every ex- perfence, act and aspect of our life. For that which has been is, since the past knows no change and no corruption, but lives eternally in its frozen and completed self
 These are somewhat large words to be born of a small matter, but they rose up sponta- neously in the miRd of @ soldierly looking man who was leaning, on the particular evening when this history opens, over gate in an eastern country lane, staring vacantly at ripe field of corn.
 He was a peculiar and rather battered look ing individual. apparently over 40 years of age, and yet bearing upon him that unmis- takable stamp of dignity and self respect which, if it does not exclusively belong to, is yet one of the distinguishing attributes of the English gentleman In face he was ugly; no other word can express it Here were not the long mustaches, the almond eyes. the aristocrattc air of the colonel of fction-for our dreamer was a colonel These were alasl that the truth should be so plain-repre- sented by somewhat scrubby, sandy colored whiskers, small but kindly blue eyes, low, broad forehead, with a deep line running across it from side to side, something like that to be seen upon the bust of Julius Cesar, and long, thin nose. One good feature, however, he did possess, mouth of such sweetness and beauty that, set as it was above & very square and manly looking chin, 1t had the air of being ludicrously out of place. "Umph," said his old aunt, Mrs. Massey (who had just died and left him what she had), on the occasion of her first introduction to him five-and-thirty years before, ''umphl Nature meant to make a pretty girl of you, and changed her mind after she had finished the mouth. We'll, never mind, better be plain man than pretty woman. There, go along, boy, like your ugly face"
 Nor was the old lady peculiar in this re- spect, for plain as the countenance of Col. Harold Quaritch undoubtedly was, people found something very taking about it when once they got used to its rugged air ard soern, regulated expression. What that some thing was it would be hard to define, but perhaps the nearest approach to the truth would be to describe 1t as light of purity which, notwithstanding the popular idea to the contrary, is to be found quite as often upon the faces of men as upon those of wo- men. Any person of discernment in looking at Col Quaritch must have felt that he was in the presence of good man, not a prig or milksop, but a man who had attained to vir- tue by thought and struggle that had left their mark upon his face, a man whom 1t would not be well to tamper with and one to be respected by all, and feared of evil doers. Men felt this, and he was popular among those who knew him in his service, though not in any hail-fellow-well-met kind of way. But among women he was not popular. As I , -. Y.I-- His presence jared upon the frivolity of the lighter members of their sex, who dinly realized that his nature was antagonistic and the more solid ones could not understand him. Perhaps this was the reason why Col Quaritch had never married, had never even | had love affair since he was f1ve-and-twenty.
 And yet it was of a woman's face that he was thinking as he leaned over the gate and looked at the field of yellowing corn, undu- lating like golden sea beneath the pressure | of the wind.
 Col Quaritch had twice in his life been at Honham before the present time, when he had come to abide there for good and all, once ten and once four years ago. His old aunt, Mrs Massey, had place in the village "a very small place-called Honham cot taRe, or Molehill, and he had on these two occasions been down to stay with her. Now Mira Massey was dead and buried, and had left him the property, and be had given up his profession, in which he had no further prospects, and come to live at Honham. This
 was his first evening in the place, for he had arrived by the last train on the previous night. All day he had been busy trying to get the house little straight, and now, thoroughly tired of the task, he was refresh ing himself by leaning over gate. It is,
 though great many people will not believe
 if ono oS fha roost deliChtf,,l refreshments iu the world
 And then it was, as he leaned over the gate, that the image of a woman's face rose
 before bis mind as it had been continually
 rising for the last five years. It was Ave . years since he had seen it, and those five
 years he had spent in India and Egypt. It
 seemed but the other day that he had beer
 leaning over this very gate, and had turned
 to see young girl dressed in black, with (
 spray Of honeysuckle stuck in her girdle, and
 a stick in her hand, walking leisurely dowr
 the lane. There was something about tht a girls air that had struck him while she wa!
 yet long way off-a dignity and a grace
 and set of the shoulders, and then as sh,
 came nearer he saw the soft dark eyes ans
 the waving brown hair that contrasted &
 strangely and effectively with the pale anG
 striking face. It was not beautiful face for the mouth was too large, and the nos was not as straight as it might have been but there was power about the broad brew and force and solid nobility stamped upol the features which had impressed hin r strangely. Just as she arrived opposite t. where he was standing gust of wind, fo ) there was stiff breeze, had blown the lady j hat of, taking it right over the hedge, an' he, as in duty bound, had scrambled into tn ! field and fetched 1t for her, and she ha'
 thanked him with quick smile and light l ing up of the brown eyes, and then passe' 3 on with a bow.
 , Yes, with little bow she had passed ou . and he had watched her departing down tn S long level drift, till she melted into tn 2 stormy sunset light, and was gone. Whe
 he returned to the cottage he had describe l. her to his old aunt, and asked who she migh
 be, to learn that her name was Ida de s Molle, which sounded like a name out of
 novel, the only daughter of the old squir t who lived at Honham castle. And the y- next day he had left for India, and saw Mi e de la Molle no more.
 d And now he wondered what had become (
 hes. Probably she was married; so strikin s- l a person would be almost sure to attract th e notice of men, And after all, what could t matter to himi He was not amarrying mal
 and women as class had little attraction fc