Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1891-07-12

that she was an orphan, s.S -. -
Iouisiapa planter who had died some years
nrcviousiy. leaving her TO the care OF her
maternal relatives, the Hancocks, ana tnnt
she had but recently como to virginia 70
TT"ns lis.ened TO the story Of q quiet life
a. interestedlv a. II IL had been 2 SIX.
teenth-century romance--for MS oreain
had become reality.
CHAPTER III.
nurinp tho week after the evening when
Tent walked home with Miss Willis and
Mr. Hancock lost bis tomper-strange
things happened In the house at TENTS
Hill The young gentleman OF the house
no longer passed the morning hours IN
the western porch, nor dreamed in the
broad daylight: he had awakened from tne
dream life into which ne haa tnougn. ~
sink. and in the awakening he had cast
aside many Of his old habits. The brown
meercbaufn that had been his most con-
slant companion for the past eight or nine
wears now Law neglected on the mantel In
the library. no moist fingers filed Its
gaping mouth now with black Latakia, no
sensitive BRAN fed upon fragrant smoke
drawn through the sweetest OF ng-steIns,
and the bowl had grown cold and foul nom
disuse. II nothing more strange than this
had happened, il alone would have been
sufficient to cause remark-for when a
smoker gives up his pipe one may be sure
that something has gone wrong-but
other and stranger things had occurred
Trent POSSIBLY as the result OF habit
contracted in his days OF journal Ism) had
| been uncommonly fond of his bed, and
| would rarely come down 70 his breakfast
before Q, but now by the time the first faint
lights Of dawn were breaking though the
| sober darkness of the May nights he was
| up and out Of doors, in the GOODNESS OF the
| beginning day. Of through the country
| side he would go, stretching his legs with
almost boylsh enjoyment. and whistling or
| singing as he went. No one knew the d.
rection of these early morning. tramps..
| whether they led him to the reedy sides OF
| the river, or to the damp recesses of the
hills to the south--but they were evidently
| not purposeless. for he would always re-
| turn with large and rather rudely-arranged
| punches of wild flowers and spring grasses.
| After breakfast. hastily partaken Of now.
| Trent would usually disappear for the rest
Of the forenoon, taking his flowers with
him, and as these flowers generally found
| their way. in some unaccountable fashion,
to Miss Willis's parlor. it was to be pre-
sumed that this young lady enjoyed much
| of Trent's society.
| Now, when a young gentleman who has
| been accustomed TO late rising suddenly
develops a passion tor early hours, and
| evnces in addition mania for wild flower
hunting. 1t Is apt to occasion remark In q
quiet family: and Mrs. Trent, who had
only seen the commonplace side OF her
sons character heretofore, now began to
| get glimpse of the other side. She was
not a woman of great brain, but neither
| was she simpleton, and she was not long
in discovering the true state of the case.
She remembered a time in the bygone past
when Trent's father had been just such an.
| other young man, and she remembered
Just how he had compOrted himself In the
days when he was persuading her 10 be-
| come Mrs. Trent. and she thought that
Jack was growing strangely like what his
father had been in those early days. She
| smiled TO herself rs she made this COM
parson and wondered if there was soon to
be a young Mrs. Trent TINS last thought
gave her no MISUNDERSTANDING wills was
| a very sweet young woman, she reflected.
and would suit her. Anyway, if Jack loved
her that settled it. Perhaps any one Jack
/ loved would have suited her Just a. well.
Jack Trent was in love. and no one was
better aware of this fact than he. twenty
four hours of the society of Madge Willis
had convinced him OF it. He knew now
why he had remembered her lace Tor SO
many wears, and he was glad that 1t had
come to happen. He was quite certain OF
the extent of his affection Tor her, but he
was very uncertain Of the extent of her af-
lection for him, though he hoped-as lovers
ALWAYS hope. He had known her lust eight
DAYS. and he reasoned that she could have
hardly lost her heart to him in that short
space of time. Perhaps q man with less
vanity than Jack might have jumped at
in love with him, but Jack, being mode
ratey vain, reflected that 1t would take
| her at least month TO fully appreciate ais
| many good qualities. But had the young
gentleman been less in love, he would not,
in all probability, have accused the young
lady of insensibility to the charms OF his
| person and mind.
The very ill-kept house which the Han
cocks inhabitated grew much accustomed
| Mr.. Bob Hancock's face grew darker
therea.. He, as well as others, saw the DRIFT
| of the communion of the two young peo-
pie. and it did not please him. But the
only apparent result of his frowns was to
drive the two from the house into the quiet
| lanes thereabout.
Perhaps they preferred the lanes to the
| house, for, like most people who have
something upon their minds. they rather
| disiked the compromising of others. At
all events the hours went by quickly
| enough for them, and they were quite con-
| tent to let the days drift by them as they
| idled beneath the pines.
| A favorite way for them was the path
| that led down the side of bill near
Trent's house. to the rivers side. This
path they frequented often. There was
nothing more charming about the place
| than about Others near by, and yet every
| day their steps turned that way as If by
| instinct.
| One Wednesday afternoon they were
standing where the path lost itself in the
brambles at the foot of the hill. 1t had
been deliciously idle day, and they had
come here partly to see the sunset and
| partly because there was nowhere else to
| go. The sun was setting now, purpling
the hills above them and filling the waves
| OF the turbid stream with strange flashes
of red and gold. Nature was fast sinking
| into slumber. the sparrows were twittering
| Goodnight" and the great bronze To-
Gusts in the oaks of Trents Hill were
| droning lazily.
Both the man and the woman had been
| silent for some minutes and the silence
had impressed Trent with q strange con-
strant. He was looking fxedly at his
companion. whose eyes were turned aside.
He was asking himself the question he
had 80 often asked docs she love me!"
She, evidently unconscious of his gaze,
was looking towards the far SUBMITS
of the hills to the west where the sun was
sinking out of sight.
Il wish that this day might last Ior-
ever" said Trent softly, only half con-
scious that he was speaking,
The girl started and her face sprang into
flame-perhaps she had been wishing this
herself.
1T would be so delightful to 60 on in
this way forever" said Trent, continuing,
lone day like another. in its quletness."
MIR. Trent. l think you are talking nom
sense" said Madge. who had recovered her
self-possession.
Perhaps / am talking nonsense-but it
is very delightful nonsense-and do wish
it," said Trent. slowly.
The girl looked at him steadily for mo-
ment, her cheeks flaming again, and then
her face became sober, and she replied
quietly "You are getting poetical. MIR.
| Trent. Perhaps We had better go home"
Trent moved step closer to her:
"Madge," he said-he had never called
her Madge" before. and she gave little
start" Madge, / mean every word OF 1t.
There's no use in my trying to keep
silent-I have tried, and l can't do 1T
| love YOU"
His voice had sunk into whisper, and
he leaned toward her with look that told
more than his simple words and he
| o..otoboI -,,t ~, hap1o ~ har Tho GIRL