The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1901-12-06
CHAPTER /.

highlands of England were lively with
the romance of travel than the Star
and Garter at Kirkstall.
To this day 1t challenges admiration
for its picturesque site, its handsome
bay windows, its pleasant smoking
room, and its old-fashioned bowling
green, which is still frequented by low
ers of a ime-honored game.
From the bright windows of the old
inn one still looks out upon the ruins
of the, famous Abbey, and though the
river Aire is no longer clear and full
of fish, it flows through green meadows
and reflects such local beauties Of
landscape as the needs of the busy
town of Leeds have not yet annexed.
In these days the river is begrlmed
with dust, and clogged with the refuse
of mills and dye-works. When Mary
Lockwood was the belle of the field and
river thereabouts, and the bright par
ticular star of the bar-parlor of the
lorll inn, 1t was mirror in which
Venus herself might have been salts.
fled to cast the reflected image of her
beauty.
England was a merry England them
in spite Of the severity of her laws, and
the constant drain which continental
wars made upon the manhood Of the
nation. Troops were continually on
the march. Highwaymen on fleet
chargers dashed along the roads and
levied toll with pistol and an cpl
gram. Judges of assize entered the
great towns in state, and left behind
them vague snatches of tragic stories,
and in the name Of Justice, an occa-
sional grim sign-post as warning to
evil-doers. On dark nights the clink-
ing chains of the gibbet made the
chimney corners seem more than usu-
ally snug, and gave an additional spice
of fear to the story of the local TRACE
dy as the gossips loved to tell it,
while the wind whistled down the
chimney, and the rain ratified at the
easement.
With all their drawbacks, these were
merry days Men loved the country,
lived country lives, and ate plain but
wholesome fare. And what superb
women delighted the eye. You might,
nevertheless, have travelled all over
England and never have seen a more
lovely woman than Mary Lockwood,
who has been immortalized by the poet
Southey as Mary, the Maid of the
Inn"
She was tall and straight as Nor
mandy poplar. She walked from the
hips, as an athlete does. Her figure
had all the graces of woman's curry
ing outlines, with suggestions of great
strength Her arms were white as II
they knew none of the labor of house
hold work. Her head rested upon her
shoulders with the easy pose that sug-
gests the head and neck of the race
horse. She was fair, though her hair
was of a rich brown. Her complexion
was healthful rather than ruddy, her
eyes a deep blue; her mouth firm, but
with a tendency as if it were to curl
into smile. She wore a pleasant,
fearless, innocent expression.
There was no self-consciousness in
her manner. She would rather be COM
plimented upon her strength and cour-
age than her beauty. She was five and
twenty, and had the strength of man
and the courage of an army. She had
been brought up to rough it on farm,
a wild girl Of the meadows, until her
uncle, Joseph Morley, the landlord of
the Star and Garter, losing his wife,
took it into his wise old head that
Mary would be a useful girl in the
house, and would we'll repay the cost
OF keeping her.
The girl won upon the old man, not
only on account of her usefulness, but
for the reason that Morley, being nat
urally weak and timorous, admired in
Mary an exactly opposite physical and
moral capacity She was to him pos
session of which he boosted. She could
beat any of his customers at bowls |
There was not man in the neighbor
hood who could fling quot as deity. !
There was no kind of a horse she could |
not ride. She had broken in dozen or |
two of the colts up at Master Taylor's |
farm; and Master Taylor had often
Sdlu IL WAS SOUu lIllB lOT MARY ne |
was not young man, for in his early |
days he had been "a devil among the
women" and boosted Of it.
But Mary had no fear Of men. There
was not one of her acquaintances who
had ever thought of Offering her an in
suit, or who would have dared to do
it; and none of them ever made the
slightest impression on her heart.
1t is true honest Jack Meadows had
hung about her skirts for a matter of
four years, but he was looked upon
both by Mary and her uncle, only in
the light of neighbor and friend.
Jack had never ventured to speak of
love to Mary, but he had insinuated
himself into her good graces by many
acts Of consideration and thoughtful
ness.
He was about her own age. and we'll
to-do His father had died and left
him a comfortable little farm a few
miles beyond the abbey: the only in
cumbrance being his mother, whom
Jack found a solace rather than an in