Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1904-09-27
The Hearts S
Highway 11,;.i; 14Si ! /;
MARY E..
WILkIN S
Copyright. 1900. by DOUBLEDAY. PAGE a c,


istSm3Y
Tie road was miry in places, and
then would fall behind her farther
still that the water and red mud
splashing from beneath my horses
hoofs might not reach her. Then, final
ly. after ! had done thus some few
times. she reined in her Merry Roger
and looked over her shoulder with a
flash of her blue eyes which compelled
mine.
why do you ride so far away
Master Wingfeld?" said she.
lifted my hat and bent so low in
my saddle that the feather on it graZei
the red mud.
"Because l fear to splash your fine
tabby petticoat. madam" answered.
Il care not for my fine petticoat,"
said she in petulant way, like that OF
a spoiled child who is forbidden sweets
and the moon and questions love in
consequence. yet still there was some
little fear and hesitation in her tone
Mistress Mary was most doclle pupil
seeming to have great respect for my
years and my learning, and was as
gentle under my hand as was her Mer
ry Roger under hers, and yet with the
same sort of gentleness, which Is as
the pupil and not as the master de-
cides and let's the pull Of the other will
be felt.
answered not, yet kept at my dis.
tance, but ut the next miry place she
held in Merry Roger until was forced
to come up, and then she spoke again,
and as she spoke a mockbird was sing
ing somewhere over on the bank Of the
river.
did you ever hear a sweeter birds
song than that, Master Wingfield!'
said she, and answered that it was
very sweet, as indeed it was.
What do you think the bird Is mock.
ing, Master Wingield?" she said, and
then | answered like fool, for the
man who meets sweetness with his
own bitterness and keeps it not locked
in his own soul is fool.
Il hope not" said l, but he may be
mocking the hope of the spring and he
may he mocking the hope in the heart
of man. The song seems too sweet fol
a mock of any bird which has no
thought beyond this years nest"
Mistress Mary's blue eyes. as help
less of comprehension as flower, lCOk'
ed in mine.
But there will be another spring,
Master Wingfield." she said somewhat
timidly, and then she added, and l
knew that she was blushing under her
mask mt her own tenderness, land
sometimes the hopes of the heart come
true"
She rode on with her head bent as
one who considers deeply. but l. know
ing her well. knew that the mood
would soon pass. as it did. Suddenly
she tossed her head and flung out her
curls to the breeze and swung Merry
Rogers bride rein and was away at a
gallop, ana | after her. measuring the
ground with wide PAGES on my tall
thoroughbred. In this fashion we soon
left the plodding blacks so far behind
that they became part of the distance
shadows.
Then all at once Mistress Mary
swerved off from the main road and
was riding down the track leading to
the plantation wharf. whence all the
tobacco was shipped for England and
all the merchandise imported for house
hold use unladen There the way was
very wet. and the mire was splashed
high up on Mistress Mary's fine tabby
skirt. but she rode on at reckless
pace, and | also. much at loss to
know what had come to her, yet not
venturing, or rather. perhaps. deiGning.
to inquire. And then l saw what she
had doubtless seen before, the mast
Df ship rising straightly among the
trees.
When I saw the mast I knew that
The ship belonging to Madam Caven'
dish, which was called the Golden
Horn and had upon the bow the like
ness Of gilt horn. running over with
fruit and flowers, had arrived. 1t was
by this ship that Madam Cavendish
sent the tobacco raised upon the plan
tation of Drake Hill to England.
But even then knew not what had
so stirred Mistress Mary that she had
left her sober churchward road upon
the Sabbath day. and judged that II
must be the desire to see the Golden
Horn, fresh from her voyage; nor did !
dream what she proposed doing.
AS we came up to the ship lying In
her dock we SAW sailors OIL deck group
ed around cask of that same wine
which they had taken the freedom tG
broach in order to celebrate their safe
arrival in port, though it was none OF
theirs. The sight aroused my anger
but Mary Cayendish did not seem tc
see any occasion for wrath. She sal
her prancing horse, her head up and
her curls streaming like flag of gold
and there was blue flash in her eyes
of which l knew the meaning. The
blood of her great ancestor, the sea
king, Thomas Cavendish, who was Sec
ond only to Sir Francis Drake, was
astir within her.
She sat there with the salt sea wind
In her nostrils and her hair flung upon
it like Il pennant Of victory and looked
at the ship wet with the ocean surges,
the sails stiff with the rime of salt and
the group of English sailors Oh the
deck. and those old ancestral instincts
which constitute the memory of the
blood awOke.
Then as suddenly that mood left her
as she sat there. the sailors having ris-
Ell and standing staring with shame
faced respect and covertly wipins, With
the hairy backs Of hands. their mouths
red with wine. But the captain, one
Calvin Tabor. stood before them with
more assurance. as II he had some war
rant for allowing such license among
his men. He himself seemed not to-