The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-10-19

lands letter, however, accompanied Dy
neat note of his own, stating that he was
unexpectedly recalled to New York, but
tn he should soon return. and would do
himself the honor of paying his respects
at the earliest opportunity.
He then fastened to the city, after Civ.
ing out that he should take up his resi-
dence at the farm, as soon as the house
could be made habitable; and on reaching
New York, sent up an architect and
| whole army of workmen 10 make the
| necessary alterations and repairs.
At length their work was completed and
| Leland was informed that his country
house was ready for his occupation.
! He decided to take possession imme-
diate'y, and on the very day that Cora
| Ellistou bad the talk with Oscar Slyme,
started for Roxbury. :.
He reached the village in safety, and
| found Seth Gridley, the man who had
charge of the farm, in waiting at the sta
tion, with very decent country turnout.
Leland at once took his seat in the car
riage. Seth followed, and the horses
heads were turned toward the center.
Passing through the village they struck
| q long and solemn avenue. shaded by
elms, interlacing their thick branches,
and Leading directly to the Sedlev farm.
Presently they reached the house. The
front door was open. Leland entered,
and received hearty welcome from Mrs.
| Seth Gridley, the housekeeper.
Seth then showed him to his own cham
Der, and when he declared himself ready,
conducted him to the dining-room.
Mrs. Gridley had passed half the pre-
vious night in slaughtering various dwell
ers in the poultry yard, and the results
of the massacre now successlVely ap-
| peared swimming in butter. The young
man managed to get through the meal at
| last, however, and even found himself In
good spirits after it.
He sought for Seth. found him in the
great kitchen assisting his wife, and
strove to CLEAN from him some informa-
tion Of the Metcalfs. But the farmer,
like every genuine Yankee, held it as
tenet of faith that he who gave plain
answer to any question was dlshonored
man.
With all possible respect he let the
| Young gentleman understand plainly that
he was not to be deceived by his affected
ignorance into any belief that Warren
Leland did not know a great deal better
than he who and what Nathan Metcaf
was, where he lived, and what he did;
that Warren Leland was his employs and
as such was entitled to his respect; but
that he was New Yorker, and-as Nathan
Metcalf said-all New orkers were friv-
olous testers.
Leland, who had taken an oath never to
get angry, kept it now, drew from cigar
fresh supply of patience, picked up his
hat and left the room.
For few moments he leaned over the
balustrade of the veranda and looked
around.
The night, clear and beautiful, envel-
oped in it's shadowy veil the wide
stretching fields, and a solemn stiffness,
strange to New Yorker's ears, reigned
around him, broken only at intervals by
the distant bay of hound, rising sud-
denly, and anon dying into peace again.
His eyes becoming used to the darkness,
Leland descended the veranda steps and
passed into the broad avenue, which was
darker and more solemn than cathe-
dral aisle at midnight, and thence into
another road into which it led him by
chance.
Strictly, speak ng, Leland had never.
until now, been out of the city, for wher-
ever he bad previously gone, he had car
1ied its hustle, worldly and artificial life,
play, and the races with him; and the
watering places and the seaside had never
shown him true country life.
It gave him a sensation for the first
time, but the sensation was not an agree
able one.
AS he advanced up this silent road,
without residences, without lights, 1t
seemed to him he was wandering among
the desolate sites of some lunar region.
This part of New England recalled to him
the worst cultivated parts o. Germany.
1t wore q rustic and savage character, with
its dense shrubbery. tufted grass. dark
valleys and rough roads.
Wandering on 10 an eminence, his eyes
swept but fresh horizon of apple trees
and wheat fields, and he was about to turn
back when q strange sound suddenly
arrested his steps. 1t was concert OF
voice and instruments, which il this lost
solitude seemed to him only dream or
miracle.
The music was good-even excellent
He recognized Prelude of Bach, arraug.
ed by Gunod. He could not have been
more astonished if he had suddenly seen
the Grand Opera House set down in front
of him.
Filled with curiosity and led by the
melody he heard. he descended cautiously
the little hill, like kings son in search
of the enchanted princess. The palace
he found in the middle Of the path, in
the shape of the back wall of & dwelling,
which fronted on another road. One OF
the upper windows on this side, however,
was open: bright light streamed from
it, and thence he doubted not the sweet
sounds came.
With the accompaniment Of the piano
ana stringed Instruments rose fresh,
flexible woman's voice, chapting the mys-
tic words of the young master with such
expression and power as would have given
even him delight. Leland, himself a
musician, was capable of apPreci sting
the mastery execution Of the piece, and
was SO much struck by it he felt an IRE
si>tibe desire to see the performers, es-
pecially the singer.
With this impulse he climbed the little
hedge bordering the road, placed himself
on the top, and found himself several
feet above the level of the lighted win
dow He did not hestu TO use his skill
! as gymnast, acquired at Y"le, to raise
himself to one Of the branches OF an old
oak stretching across the lawn: but dur
| ing the ascent he could not disguise from
| himself that his was scarcely di2nifed
| position for the futule member of Con-
gress from the district.
He almost laughed aloud at the idea of
being surprised in this position by the
| terrible Metcalf, or his daughter.
He established himself on large, leafy
branch, directly in front of the open win
dow, snd notwithstanding that he was at
respectful distan"e. his glance could
readily Den citrate into tho chant er where