The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1904-07-26

ply siologist. enables woman, with
her eyes fixed on the horizon to seq
clearly, aye, theorize, upon every smali-
est intermediate detail Of the pictures
HE has sketch-book must De ac-
compIished- his thrown bis cigar
away-is Of gentle breeding. has
hands do not embarrass him, his eyes
do not embarrass me-
Only giving her as long glance az
the eyes of five-and-twenty can give
of the b1ushing face Of q pretty wo-
man, this side Of offensel Then the
stranger steps aside into the deep bar
ley for Mrs. Chester to pass, half
raises his hat, sends one quick glance
in pursuit Of the girlish, graceful fig
ure when it has passed. and continues
his way.
Thus the adventure is over; ia life
sequestered as Daphne Chester's to
come across a well-looking stranger on
a summer afternoon may, aided by
meditation, become an adventure.
Thus these two people have met; with
issues literally Of life and death de-
pendent upon their speaking have kept
silence. But now appears the Deus
e.: machina, the first visible link in
that dark chain that binds rs and
which it is our pleasure to call Fate.
The stranger, absorbed 10 ms
thoughts, or by his cigar, has dropped
letter, and Daphne has barely passed
him by half a dozen steps before she
discovers 1t. lying in the path.
she stoops down, Eve-like. specula-
tive. She reads the address.
iris written in a womaa's hand, up-
on an envelope Of blue rep; square
shaped envelope at least three times
larger than the old-fashioned letters to
which Mrs. Chester's eyes are accus-
toned at ief-de.la-Reine.
'sSir John Severne, Royal Engineers,
Poste Restante, Jersey"
BY this time Daphne holds the let
ter between her fingers. The situa-
ton begins TO involve questions OF
conscience rather than Of curiosity
1.-THE affair is none Of yours says
Pride. Leave the letter where you
found 1t, and pass on. Flattering in
deed to a mans vanity think what
that Isl mans insatiate vanity
were you to pursue this youth and ac-
cost him seek his acquaintance, un-
solicited"
But the loss Of that letter may
prove the spelling Of his life" pleads
Daphne's soft heart. 1T may be from
his wife, poor boyr' The thought
makes her heave a sigh of pity. "Or
from his sweetheart. If I were
young-if belonged to the world still
what might not the loss of letter
cost me! 1t is a question Of right, Of
duty to my neighbor. no matter wheth-
G. my neighbor be a man Of fifty or
of twenty-five"
Having scared into the region of
abstract and lofty morals, Mrs: Chester
wavers no more. I'll believe this
letter must belong to you, sir
She has been forced to run at full
speed to overtake him; her face is
overspread with damasl-; she pants q
little for breath; curt, reserved in her
manner; cold, most unsmiiilng are her
lips.
Sir John Severne's eyes. habituated
Of late to Anglo-Indian charms
charms whose idiosyEcracy is scarcely
that Of coldness or reserve-rest upon
Daphne Chester with an admiration
which she is, fortunately, too breath
less or too bashful to notice.
IT am extremely sorry that you
have taken so much trouble on my ac-
count" he begins, mechanically trans
ferring the restored letter to his pocket.
cit may have been from his wife. It
was not from his sweetheart" she
thinks, with prompt decision. mo boy
of his age ever got back possession Of
love letter with such an air of indif-
ference as that')
Under this broiling sun. too! Real
", shall never be able to thank you
enough"
"There is nothing to thank me for
at all, sir. am used to the SUM-.
Cutting him short without smile.
without the relaxation of a muscle OF
her face, then preparing to turn away.
Ell suppose / am at no great dis
lance from the sea here?" he begins
desperately, not rejecting upon the
wisdom of his question, wanting only
one look from the hazel eyes that, as
yet, have SO studiously refused to en-
counter his.
"Well, no. In an island the size OF
Jersey you can hardly get very far dis
tant from the sea-"
Cruelty laconic is Mrs. Chester's an
swer. yet do her footsteps linger.
How strong the pulses of the lusty
year are beatingl They stir the earth
as with a new creation; they make
themselves felt, even in her own frozen
heart. How the cuckoo murmurs, how
the thrushes call aloud for joy
To be Continued.