The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1904-08-31
II.

CHAPTER II.
Science.
The tide closes around little Paul,
and his mother, without a misgiVlng
at her heart, walks onward through
the verdant, summer-smelling lanes
the blue sky smiling overhead, the
voices of the haymakers ringing mer-
nv through the fields; earth and heaV-
en-, n would say, keeping holiday;
no place for danger, and loss, n
swift %irrevocable despair in a world
so harmonized to JOY as this!
Throughout every season OF the year
the Jersey lanes have some unique
charm, some duodecimo beauty OF
their own that We miss amid the wide
horizons of statelier countries. Now
in mid-June they are at their zenith.
The flower Of the hawthorne has
passed, and still, in come few sheltered
positions, a flush Of hectic serves to
remind you Of east winds and OF May.
The foam-like, drowsy-scented alders
are in fullest blossom. The dwarf-rose
fills every sandy bank or bit OF common
with it's wax-like petals and lemon
favored odor. Great balls of honey
suckle, here budding crimson, there
over-blown pink and buff, hang pro-
fusely from the hedges Of acacia, sy-
camore and wild cherry, which, to the
horror of scientific farmers and the
satisfaction Of the remainder of man
kind, form the boundaries of the helds.
Daphne saunters On. now IN sun,
now in shadow, amidst all this wealth
of color and Of fragrance; herself not
the least fair accessory Of the picture,
but unwittingly as any flower along
the path of her OWN fairness.
A book Of extracts might be filed by
some diligent extract cutler with the
pretty fancies INDUCED in by the poets
about unconscious beauty. I would
make bold to say that no healthy girls
| heart of two-and-twenty was ever CAL
lous on the score of personal attraction.
| Daphne Chester's state Of feeling is
| morbid, cher account with the world
| closed;" there is the secret Of her self
| Indifference. Dress itself, that sure
barometer as to a woman's heart, in
life gives her scanty pleasure. With
the very country girls in the hayfelds
| disporting tunics, paniers, and the like,
| she wears q skirt fashioned upon the
| model Of q dozen years ago; wears a
| straw hat that shades her face and
| plainly braided hair, when every farm
| er's daughter holds her head up in hon.
orable consciousness of a Pamela or a
Rubens! N~inety-nine men out Of hun
dred, in short, would pass Mrs. Chester
by without q second glance-so well
has the g educated mems eyes to
msretricious charms-and to escape
second glances is precisely the result
at which she aims. But the hun
dredth.
The hundredth, a s%ketchbook under
his arm, q cigar between his lips,
breaks upon Daphne's disconnected
sight just as she has reached the one
absolutely lonely bit Of all her walk,
a footpath leading through fields OF
ripening barley, with thickly -boughed
apple orchards on either side; not the
echo Of q voice to be heard, not SO
much as the outbuilding Of a farm
house in sight.
IAN excursionist," she thinks, and
the carnation nantes holly over her
face and neck.
Il should explain that, TO the inhabi-
tants of this district the word "excur-
~sionist' is a generic term of reproach
for all male human creatures, strang-
ers, who may be seen abroad among
the lanes or fields between the months
OF May and October. 1t comprehends
cockney gallantry toward women;
disregard Of garden fences; a five
pound return ticket to Victoria Sta.
ton! loud tweed suits; rainbow-col-
ored h~at-scarfs, and vile tobacco.
What shall Daphne Chester do? She
has no choice but to set her features
into the most %forbidding expression
those soft features are capable of
wearing, fix her eyes to whatever mu-
sic hall compliment the stranger may
think ftto bestow upon her, and brush
by. Literally brush" by, for the path,
at no time broad, is now scarce pas
sable by reason of the barley that
sways across it in f%eathery, encroach-
ing waves from either side.
The %carnation deepens on the girls
cheeks, but she holds her head up
bravely and proceeds.
The stranger is within a dozen yards
of her-a well-knit young fellow of
| FIVE or siX-and-twenty, bronzed, hardy
looking, a soldier you could hardly fail
to prognosticate by profession, with an
| air Of boyhood. a lingering look Of
Harrow or of Rugby giving pleasant
brightness to his face and bearing.
And not-not an excursionist,"
thinks Daphne on the instant.
] What subtle sense. unclassifed by