Omaha daily bee., 1903-02-22
CHAPTER I,

u hARKNh1 III - hAha
July heats. All Flanders and Picardy were
true Fields Of the Cloth Of Gold, in which
blue blouses swung and swayed. and scythes
flashed circlewise in the high, bold sun
shine.
II was thus that he first saw her, blue
and white among the gold, and ever after
In his heart OF hearts ne called her like
the others, characterization. Common
folk in England call the gay, laughing,
defiant bloom "C~ornfower." In France lit
tie children leap up and shout aloud.
"Bluet! Bluet!" when they catch sight OF
It. For 1t is a precious thing to them.
And Maurice Raith, who, in answering my
lords letters. had a genius for finding the
right word, knew at once that for this girl
whom he met among the broom there was
no other name possible but Just Flower
o~'-the-Corn." So Flower-o'-the-Corn she
was till time grew old.
Flower-o'-the-Corn stood up. her hands
clasped lightly behind her. There was a
bunch Of blossoms between them which she
had just gathered, and she stopped short
in the song she was singing-as a bird
sends out the ~gladness Of its heart and the
vivid brevity Of life. Maurice thought that
he had never seen SO fair a thiDg-no, not
in the dreams of the night.
let nOlnluR was less III tue III "
Maurice Raith than maidens fair or maid
ems Flemish, as he strolled out into the
cornfelds to cool his brain after toiling
all the morning writing the dukes letters
and listening with one ear to the great
captains advice. For my Lord MaTlbor-
ough had taken a fancy to the young man
and SO for the most part kept him hard at
| work. while he permitted the gold-bsrred
ornamentals Of his staff to disport them
selves in Brussels. along the shady side
Of the Grande Place. or to ogle the maids
Of the city under the lacework turrets OF
the town hall.
So 1t CHANGED that, in a field a mile or
two beyond the limits Of the camp, Maurice
Raith, sauntering heart free, suddenly
heard as it were the ~caroling Of a bird.
The road in which he stood was sunk a
little below the surrounding fields. as is the
wont OF the provinces of Ardennes. Here
It was that he heard the sweet Tilt Of a
girls voice singing as II to herself.
AND at the sound Maurice sprang at the
steep face Of the bank as he would have
lone at an intrenchment. With one i'm
petuous movement he burst through the
broom, and 10! he stood stone-stricken In
sudden amazement. for Flower-o'-the-Corn
had com into his life, and he could never
be the same man any more.
For indeed she was livc q flower. She
had the dewy freshness. the lissome side
sway, the dash OF vivid color (which was
her mouth) Of some tall poppy or pome-
granate flower seen under a bright sky.
Yet there was nothing coQuettish about
Flower-o'-the-Corn-a serene sweetness and
simplicity rather. eminently virginia.. She
had eyes varied from dark hazel to sap
phire blue, and from azure back again to q
mysterious sea-violet, according to the sky
that shone above them and the mood that
moved behind them. But her mouth was
her greatest beauty. Not at all a reposeful
mouth, II was rather one constantly fitting
from expression to expression, pleading,
petulant, disdainful. forgiving-all in the
compass Of twenty seconds.
And when she smiled (which upon the
present occasion she did at his discom-
hture) It was like the sun breaking through
an April cloud. She wore a rough country
hat Of naturally colored straw on her head
set a triie s~aucily, and her hair beneath
It was Of the color of the rudy parts Of
Indian corn. with quick wilful lights Of
red gold and darker shadows of nut-browT
running through 1t. Flower-o'-the-CorT
was not tall, but she gave the impression
u OAShhCAB BAoNNAhAt NoAANSt 9
willow by the water courses, a lissome.
stemmed white lily that had somehow
blushed rose red.
No pen could write down, no tongue
could express the peculiar and invincibl'
charm Of Mistress Frances Wildwood, sol,
daughter Of Mr.. Patrick Wildwood. chap
lain to Ardmillan's regiment, in the sery
ice Of the queen Of Great Britain. France
and ireland.
What is your name?"
"Frances! And %yours?"
"Maurice!"
There was a pause as they looked at eacl
other, blushing with beautiful unanimity
Surnames were not asked for. somehow
F1ower-o'-the-Corn fingered a sacron-and
purple marguerite, pulling the petals slowl,
from their center pincushion. The two hA
turned instinctively and we're walking dow
the slope away from the camp. France
could not tell why, nor indeed she did no
know of 1t till afterward. Maurice RAFT
switched the broom with his cane. an
= searched his empty brain for something I
. say. His easy, usual volubility had strangel
deserted him. He felt that a complimen
would seem incredibly empty even before
4 was uttered.
. Yet at last he found words.
2 "Is 1t SAFE" he said. softly, that 20
: should wander thus far from the camp, an
alone?'
He seemed to have the right to inquire
A certain brotherly instinct stirred With
him, mixed with something else-the in
tuitively superior attitude OF the untram
meled male whenever 1t becomes protec
tive.
THE camp is dangerous" he went o
with some eagerness, 1.-THE new levies-th
1 Hadeners-the wild tribesmen from tn
! edge of Syria
She cut him short.
do yor know Ardmillan's regiment!
she asked sweetly enough.
Know it?" he smiled back at her, 'am
: a Scot and not know Ardmillan's reg
ment?"
! Then you will understand this also,
she said. God pity him that NEEDLES wit
Frances Wildwood to her hurt"
That may be true he persisted, "br
the evil might be done-done quickly, an
vengeance afterward is but a poor thin.
You must take care-I pray you bide near'
home. In these stormy times"
Then we had better turn now" 81
interrupted. for we are walking avn
= from the camp"
But you are under my escort-I am Il
generals aide-a fellow-countryman-
fact, Maurice Raithi"
S The young man was at that age when h