The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1895-01-23

giving VI u6fSSll anu hOA NaeAooA1S~i N-
begged to have their savior's name.
''Fenella Marstou," came the shy an
swer, and Richard, full of discontinue
and speechlessness as he was, had VIII
enough left to admire in secret such a
pretty name as Fenella. 1t appeared that
Fenella lived with her father in lone
house among the hills between Port Erin
and Peel, and she ''must go at once" she
said, when the poor fluttering Kestrel had
once more reached the shelter of the quay
wall.
A year passed, and Richard was again
yachting at Port Erin, this time alone
Mrs. Markheim had graciously asked him
to join herself and Dolly at Fecanp, but
for some inexplainable reason he had de-
clined the invitation, much to every ones
surprise for every one, including Dolly,
imagined that he was in love with Dolly.
For his own part, he was not quite certain
on that point, and he determined to spend
q week or two in solitude at Port Erin
with his darling Kestrel, which, by the
way, he could now handle with some
skill, in order that he might commune
with himself and explore the deep recesses
of his feelings toward the adorable Dolly.
One day he had sailed the Kestrel to
Peel. Tide and wind initiated against
him getting her back before nightfall,
and he determined to walk home to Port
Erin, ten miles over the mountains, and
return for the yacht on the morrow. The
route from Peel, provided one avoids the
carriage roads, is as wild and weird as a
person could wish. After leaving the
quaint old town and the quaint old
towns new vast hotel one begins to climb
almost Immediately, and all the way the
cloud wrapped top of South Barrule ap-
pears and disappears like revolving light.
1t was late in the afternoon when Rich
ard started, and he found the hill paths,
at no time congested with traffic, now
quite deserted. Four miles from Peel one
of those drifting, binding mists for which
the isle of Man is famous suddenly oblit-
Grated the landscape, and when it happily
cleared away after about quarter OF an
hour Richard was well lost. He sat down
on bowlder to study small pocket map,
but to no purpose Then he jumped up,
for he heard man whistling. Presently
the whistler appeared in sight, but she
was woman-a woman in a serge frock
and Tam O'Shanter hat and carrying
bag. She was walking rapidly, and when
she caught sight of Richard she suddenly
ceased making music and involuntarily
slackened her steps. Richard emitted an
ejaculation of surprise.
Now the experienced reader will have
guessed that this woman in the blue serge
and Tam O'Shanter hat was just Fenel-
la herself. Everything points to it, and
such was indeed the fact.
Richard greeted her, blushing furiously.
Fortunately he was spared the necessity
of confessing that for the second time she
had found him in a fix. He said boldly
that he was walking to Port Erin.
but this is not quite the nearest way
to Port Erin, she said. 'tYou should
have turned off toward Daily about half
q mile back"
eyes, 1 know" was the mendacious
reply. "But wanted long walk"
Miss Marston refrained from referring
to the yacht, no doubt out of delicacy, he
thought. But she was willing to chatter
about tbs scenery and the people, and
Richard said that more delightful chatter
he had never heard Dolly could not talk
like that And Dolly could not walk like
that. 1t took Richard all his time to keep
by her side.
81 have never properly thanked you,
Miss Marston, for your valuable assistance
last year. Let me do SO now. And you
may be interested to know that since then
I have acquired little more maritime
skill"
ooh, to girl used to the sea all her
life it was really nothing, Mr.. Lacy
''You know my name them" he blurted
out, for he remembered that his aunt had
introduced only herself to Fenella last
year.
"Oh, yes" returned his companion.
81 just asked one of the fishermen. I
wanted to find out"
what delightful righteousness" he
unused. "What absolute freedom from
conventionalityi Now if she only knew
as much as Dolly" Poor Dolly was very
conventional in spite of certain advanced
views.
"By the way, Mr.. Lacy" she went on,
IT have often thought about you and Won
dered whether you were any relation to
the short story WRITER of the same name"
II ana sort of distant connection"
said Richard 'tBut surely you don't adj
mire that fellows work?''
Indeed I do. Did you see that tale of
his in the last Yellow Book? I thought
it was equal to De Maupassant's best"
The Yellow Book! De Maupassant!
He was not much moved at hearing him
self compared to De Maupassant. The
thing had occurred before. But that the
comparison should be made by girl such
as he had taken Fenella to be was certain
ly surprising He confessed to being Rich
ard Lacy, the short story writer. She
laughed with naive pleasure. They began
to talk books with great gusto. What
did she think of Henry James, of Flaubert,
of Prosper Merimee? And what did he
think of George Egerton and the other
revoltees? The air was thick with ''views."
Richard was enchanted. Poor Dolly!
She was nice girl, but Fenella-Fenel-
la was a revelation. How lucky he had
not gone to Normandy!
"That house there" Fenella said after
long argument upon w. d. Howells,
pointing to an old farmlike structure
which stood near a tiny hamlet in the val
ley below them, lis where I have lived
all my life. 1t has fine library-my IA
theirs. He's the local 'littery' gent.
Really said Richard. "And that
suppose pointing to an active figure in
clerical attire which was rapidly coming
toward them up the steep path, "is the
Ioool o,,-,+oo,,