The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1904-09-07
BY Miss ANNIE EDWARDS,
CHAPTER II.
rontinrol

JdAf En- l1a
Continued.
Jast for a moment Daphne realizes,
as she has not done these three years
past, that June means love; just for a
moment acknowledges that to speak
to a man younger than the parish rec
tor, more cultivated than a peasant
farmer, is not absolutely and finally
disagreeable.
Sir John Severne is quick to follow
up whatever enthusiastically SINAI!
progress he may have made.
~As far as my present experience
goes, the Jersey lanes seem construct
ed on the fundamental principle Of
leading back unwary strangers to the
point from which they start. The
Hampton Court maze on a larger scale.
Now, this path we are on is there
the slightest chance Of it landing ne
anywhere if 7 follow it with persis-
tence? I want to take q sketch at high
water of Quernec Bay" he goes on,
and by this time Daphne's eyes are
shyly giving him back glance for
glance. "a sketch OF Quernec into
which / can bring the coast Of France,
and perhaps get one of those old Mar
tello towers for a foreground. You
could direct me, I am sure, to such a
spot?"
The question touches her at a vul-
nerable point. On the lowliest plane,
with the keenest sense Of her short
comings, Daphne is herself an artist
derives the nearest approach to self
forgetfulness heT life knows in watch
ing Natures shapes and hues, and re-
producing them in unnaturally soft,
infinitely stippled water color draw
ings.
Her only teacher has been her
Aunt Theodore; and Miss Vansittart's
art notions date from her school
DAYS. a period when young women
were wont, like Hoods Miss Priscilla,
to rough cast with shell work, coat
with red and black seals, incrust with
blue alum, stick over with colored wa
fers, or festoon with little rice paper
roses; and when woody pencil drawings
executed on perforated cardboard,
held but q subordinate rank among
these sister arts.
And still, by some native instinct,
Daphne feels az acutely as though she
had studied under a pre-Raphaelte
master at South Kensington what q
picture should be! How like the sharp
outlines, the vivid colors she sees in
woods and lanes, how unlike the hazy
counterfeits with which she and Miss
Theodore laboriously adorn the walls
or Fief-dela-R RENE. She is too dissey-
cred from the world and the worlds
opinions for the handle to a name to
affect her. Sir John Severne might
be fifty times Sir John, and his title
yield him no preference in her mind
over any plain esquire. The thought
that he is an artist does give him a
passport, for FIVE minutes at least, to
her favor.
IF you keep to this path for a cou-
pie Of fields more it Will bring you out
by the Petite Cucellette. After that,
you know Maitre lannon's farm?"
"Maitre lannon's farm? l am
ashamed to say / do not"
Nor the But de Ia Rue that runs
alongside the Marais?"
Sir John Severne is forced again to
display his ignorance.
"Well, of course, if you know moth
ing, not even the But de la Rue, nor
the Marais, you had best turn into the
high lad. Follow it straight when
once .ou leave the fields, and a quar-
ter Of an hours walking will bring
you to Fief-de-la-Reine. A big gran
lite house." she adds, "desolate but for
the roses, with q sun-dial in front, and
q broken archway-and sea, and waste,
and heaps of half-dried seaweed clos
ing it on every side"
Daphne's face gets back to its usual
look Of blank WEAKNESS as she speaks.