The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1904-11-30

have got wet through. Are expeditions
OF this barbarous description got up
with an Interior view Of pleasure, ]
wonder?"
Miss Hardcastle's tone is acrimon-
ious-so acrimonious that Felix Brough-
ton allows her hand to slip away
from beneath his arm, and putting up
Lis eycglass, looks rlacidly around him
in the moonlight.
1t is evident that they have wandered
tolerably far from the track in which
they were directed TO keep. Low, sea-
weed covered rocks, interspersed with
pools, hem them in on three sides.
while to regain the firm, white sands Of
Querncc Bay a current Of fresh water,
twenty feet wide, at least, and more
than ankle deep in shalloWest part,
must be forded.
81 shall not turn back, If you mean
that? I am wearied to death already"
says Clementina-it must be allowed
with more unreason than she ordinari-
" displays in the conduct of life. "And
I will not wade through any more wa
ter. I am wet through rs it is. So
much for the delights Of the country"
To these observations Mr.. Broughton
for q minute d. more offers 10 re-
spouse. Then, letting fall his eyeglass
and folding his arms with the resigna-
ton Of q man prepared for every exig-
ency Of feminine caprice: GAS you re-
fuse decisively to turn back, my dear
C~lementina," he remarks, "three other
courses remain open to you. Either
you will wade through the water that
lies before us, or you will let me carry
you across it, or you will remain where
you are and be drowned by the rising
tide. This much is certain"
"Let you carry me across! AS il you
would be guilty Of such an eXertion for
any n but the pretty, gentle woman
who adores you, the paragon who is to
convert you from Monte Carlo to NUT
ton chops-Daphne! 1 am sure if I did
what was wisest," she adds, petulantly,
II should just wait quietly where I am
for the tide to drown me, Is Victor
Hugo's man did in the novel,"
"Had Victor Hugo's man to carry
any one?" asks Cousin Felix, with in
terest. "You know I never read novels
at first hand. Had Victor Hugo's man
to carry any one, and was she heavy?'
"You had better get ashore with as
little Inconvenience to yourself as you
an, Mr. Broughton. Mrs. Chester will
probably have reached home by this
time, and may be feeling anxious about
you. And perhaps you would kindly
desire Sir John Severne to come down
to my a~ssistance?"
II lifted you once, I remember, at the
Geological, to see the bears, and you
were no weight to speak of. But that
was q great many years ago. However,
if I find you beyond my strength I can
but set you down again half way
across. Come, child"
Miss Hardcastle's statue is calcu-
lated at five feet. He lifts her with
about as much ease as a child would
lift a kitten, and ere she can remon-
strate walks manfully forward. When
they have reached the middle Of the
stream Mr.. Broughton stops.
81 had no idea it would be so pleas
ant" he remarks, looking somewhat
earnestly at the delicate pale face so
close to his in the moonlight.
"What is PLEASANT" she asks, ungra.
ciously. "Walking through muddy wa
ter in thin boots"
"No, carrying people, mean carry
ing you! Glen, that time I spoke of, at
the Geological, you put your arms
around my neck. Do you recollect"
II recollect nothing at all about 1t,
sir; I believe the whole story to be a
fiction"
"And when I gave you q shilling's
worth Of buns for the bears you kissed
Neon my honor you did! I wish
there were bears to get buns for "eie'
Clementina."
81 wish YOU would .aTe the goodness
to set me do- at once, Mr.. Brough-
tom"
sCl the stream?"
"Upon the other side, Of course. And
would you please not look at me so
hard, if you a help it? 1t makes me
nervous"
"If we could imagine, just for the
time being, and until we catch up with
Daphne and Sir John, that it was the
Geological and ten years ago, Cousin
Felix you would say, 4 love you a
thousand times better than any other
person in the world"
Miss Hardcastle turns her face away
sharply. She knows that the blood
must have forsaken it; that, though
her voice may be under command,
still her lips are trembling at every idle
word Felix Broughton utters.
IT. L. Nz-