Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1893-02-18
A SoUIRE'S ROMANCE.


A S0UIRE'S ROMANCE.
Hop picking was always gala time
at Pendexter farm.
Far away tho golden haze hung over
tho hills like q Quiverins veil; the bland
air was full of soft, subtle fragrance OF
wild grapes ripening in the woods, and
wherever dead tree or rude stone wall
afforded it vantage ground, the silvely
tansles of clematis wove q lovely gar
land, and the masses Of goldenrod and
purple fringed asters held up their clus-
ters of dazzling bloom. And in the hop
field merry voices echoed from morning
until night.
Will Pendcxter, walking up and down
the aisles of silver green LEAKAGE with
his hands behind his back, might have
reminded one of Boaz i'll the ancient
Scripture story-princely Doaz Standing
in his harvest fields and giving kind
glance and pleasant word to every one.
Isn't he handsome" said little Fanny
Dix to Miss Morgan, the rector's daugh-
ter Fanny was pale little dress
maker. with an incipient cough, who
had been recommended by her doctor to
spend fortnight in the hophelds, and
Miss Morgan, whose mother had died of
consumption, picked hops every year on
principle, just as Judge Marier's daugh-
tiers visited Long Branch. And all the
handsomer since he has turned gray! /
do wonder why he never married"
Don't you know" said Miss Morgan
sagely.
NO.
II can tell you, then, said the rector's
daughter, who dearly loved morsel of
genuine romance. because his first
love Tilted him.
LAS If any one would jilt VIII Pen
dexter!' said incredulous Fanny.
"Oh, but he wasn't Squire Pendexter
thcn-and all this happened 20 years
ago." averrcd Miss Morgan, her flying
fingers never leaving off among the clus-
tiers Of pale green hops. THAT was be-
fore he inherited Pendexter farm. He
was only poor young farmer then, with
his own living to make, and this was a
beautiful girl whowas spending the sum-
mer here. And they were engaged and
all-and the very night before the we'd
ding she ran way with an Italian, one
Count Caprivi, who was singing on the
New York stage"
Fanny drew a long breath.
"And what became of them% said she.
.Oh, they went to Italy, where the
count expected to succeed to large es-
tates, and suppose they are therenow "
Fanny looked with secret awe at tho
rudy face and magnificent height OF
Will Pendexter as he sauntered down
the green aisles of waving tendrils and
tremulous leaves, and almost wondered
to hear him ask N1ahala Bently about
her baby in the offhard, ordinary Ian
guage of everyday life, and give lame
Billy Bartlett Good day" just as if
there had been no Countess Caprivi in
the world.
But Fanny Dix was but q girl yet.
She did not know how 20 years will
bridge over tho darkest gulf in human
life. There is no scar that will not heal
in 90 years There is not a grave on
which grass will not grow-ayc. and
daisies blooln-in 90 years.
81 do not know that we can take an
other hand, Simpson" said Squire Pen
dexter meditAtively. "The field is crowd
ed already" :.
what ! thought, exactly, sir" said
the oversccr respectfully. "But this
ere is pretty young slip of girl, with
feeble mother dragging along on her
arm. And man don't like to say no
to such! So ! thought I'd just speak to
you before
"Whero arc they" said the squire,
rubbing the gold knob of his walking
cane against his nose, and Simpson knew
that the case of the forlorn strangers was
safe enough.
Mother, don't fret. Here comes the
gentleman now" said a clear, soft toned
voice, and Squire Pcndexter found him
self looking into pair Of wistful, deep
blue orbs-orbs that belonged to slight,
beautiful girl dressed in faded fabric and
worn shoes, who was leaning against
the we'll curb. For while Simpson had
been gone on his GRAND of inquiry she
had drawn bucket Of clear, cold water
out of the sparkling depths of the well
and given her mother drink out Of the
silver bound gourd which always hung
there
Sir" without q moments hesitation,
might have job Of work in your hop
fields? We have como from the city
mother and there's nothing to be
picked up there. and my mother is ail-
Ing, and we thought the smell Of the
hops might do hcr good. Please, sir,
we'd work cheap i; only we might sleep
in the barn and have o bit Of something
to eat between whiles!"
II don't want you to work cheap,
said the squire, assuming an aspect OF
unwonted grufTness to cover the sy,npa-
thetic thrill in his voice II never
grudged moneys worth for good. honest
work. AS for the barn, my housekeeper
can put you up In one Of the vacant back
chambers over the kitchen, and there's
always enough to eat Mt Pcndextcr farm. {"
"Pendexter farm
The woman, who had been sitting on
the messy cattle trough, slowly lifted
her head here and pushed back her worn
sunbonnet.
"Where are we, Isora? Whittier have
we come? l knew man named Pcndex-
ter once, who"-
Eyes" said the squire, who had given
o little start at the first sound of that
low contralto voice. cit was I, Clara
Capriyi! To think that fate should have
brought us together again after all these
years.
The pale woman struggled to her feet
and clutched at her daughters slim,
strong arm.