The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1893-12-01

W\WNM anything in the
y FNM ghostly eve n n g
light So the tall sunburnt young fell
low, dressed in gray homespun, Scotch
cap and tall top boots, walking up and
down with his hands in his coat pock-
cts, thought as he watched the dark
ening of the dreary day into still more
dreary night and listened to the wild
melancholy moaning of the mysterious
pine woods.
With an unearthly shrek, such as
only an Indian or locomotive can give,
the train steamed in and stopped to
let the passengers for Ashfeld get out.
Half dozen countrymen, two old
women, a baby, young lady and gen.
tleman, and little white lap-dog-
that was what the car disgorged, and
then the bell rang, and it went steam
ing off like a fiery meteor back to the
city. The countrymen, the old women
and the baby went away, and only the
young lady and gentleman and lap-dog
remained, with Mr.. John Ward in the
background accommodating. The
young lady threw back her veil, dis
closing pair of particularly bright
brown eyes, hair to match, wavy and
glossy, q rosy little mouth, and an in
tensely anxious expression of counte-
nance generally.
'Dear me! it's very oddl I told
Kitty was coming to-day, and she
assured me her brother or some one
would be in waiting. It'sgetting dark,
and don't see whatever we are going
to do in this wilderness.
perhaps that fellow over there in
the gray homespun may know how to
direct us, suggested the young gem
tleman, who was very stylishly got-up
young gentleman, indeed, with cloak
and mustache, and pale and inter
esting countenance, Illuminated by a
pair of large, dark, melancholy eyes.
''Shall l ask him?"
John Ward, in his distant corner,
saw the bright brown eyes turn his
way and become painfully conscious
of his gray homespun and coarse
boots, took his hands out of his peck
cts and blushed, Celestial, rosy red, +"
under favor of the darkness. Resist
ing a delirious desire to knock the
owner of the stylish cloak and mourn.
fully dark eyes down, there and then,
he advanced and touched his hat with
an awkward grace of his own, to the
brown-eyed young lady.
''Beg your pardon-is your name
Miss Grant?"
eyes, sir; and you are"
''John Ward, Kitty's brother; and
the gigs right out here, waiting. Is
this your luggage?"
He was lifting huge trunk and
huger bandbox, still red to the roots
of his hair, when little hand, daintily
kidded, was held out, and the pretty
face was looking up at him with the
prettiest smile in the world.
81 am very glad to see you, Mr..
Ward. l have heard so much of you
from Kitty that l don't feel as if We
were strangers at all"
''You are very good to remember
mel" John stammered, dropping tn,
lavender glove as if it burned him
'Will you get into the gig? it's colo
here"
Certainly; but first let me max,
you acquainted with Mr.. Duval- Mr.
Ward, Mr.. Duval"
Mr.. Duval lifted his excessively be
coming cap an inch from his ebo1
locks and replaced it again, staring q
John all the while as if he we're liv,
kangaroo; and John seized the trunl
as if it were work box and carried i
in his strong arms to the gig. Mr.
Duval followed with the young lady
the lap-dog and the bandbox, and tool
his seat quite as matter Of course be
side her while John drove through tn,
lonely road whistling Speed tn
Plow," and trying to appear yer,
much at ease and quite unconscious o
the animated conversation going OF
behind him. Now and then little Mis-
Grant would lean over and ask him
question, but Johns answers were no
elaborate and talk all on one side sooI
Tags.
He had been silently whistling fol
upward OF a quarter of an hour, whel
they drove through wooden gate, nj
an avenue of orange hemlocks AM
stOpped before q tall, old-fsshione