Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1906-05-18
CHAPTER I


think how soon a little child as per-
haps Paul might be surrounded by one
of these treaeherOus spring tides, and
carried away to sea before a hand
could be stretched out to save him."
Her cheeks pale, her eyes suffuse be-
fore the picture. luridly terrible as
Martins Deluge, that her own imag-
ination paints.
"Oh. / know-I know" retorts Miss
Theodore, with the natural irritation
Of superior orthodoxy. This want OF
trust, this nervous, morbid anticipation
Of evil, is the flaw Of your character.
Daphne. In former days, when we
were in the nursery, mothers had no
nerves to speak of--the better for their
children. With Paul's selfish tempera-
ment, you may be quite easy as to his
taking care of himself urder all cir
| eumstances. There he is trampling
down the flower beds at this moment!
However, If you insist upon it. I viii
carry my book down on the terrace
and keep guard-the pinks and gerani
ums for very certain need guarding
untll you return.
And so, before Mrs. Chester starts
upon her errand she has the comfort
of seeing Miss Theodore, In girlish.
broad-brimmed hat, the book of ele-
CANT literature in her hand, stifiy pac-
ing up and down terrace at the bot
tom of the garden. while she keeps
watch and ward over Paul.
Goodbye, my sweet Be sure you
kill no more butterflies. and stay close
to Aunt Theodore, and remember the
currant cake for tomorrow"
Thus Daphne admonlshcs her SON.
her ideas on education, as the reader
must observe, having their basis in the
doctrine of rewards and punishments,
of bribery and corruption. Then she
turns away down the narrow path
which leads to the side entrance Of
Fief-de-la-Reine, and Miss Theodore
and her charge are left alone.
The sun grows hotter ard hotter as
he sinks; the flower garden at this
hour of the day is shadeless. Less than
half a dozen turns upon the parched
sward Of the terrace suffice to set The.
odora vansittart longing for the cool
comfort of the rose-scented, oak-fioored
farmhouse parlor. And Paul is SO
safe-Paul intent on mischief. slyly
watching Aunt Theodora's every move
ment from beneath his eyeiashes-and
the very notion Of keeping sentry over
a boy three years of age is so ridic-
ulous!
Theodore, however, is a woman Of
honor, as honor goes; will hold to the
letter though she transgress the spirit
Of her promise. In the lower portion
Of the fiowery arbor, at an angle com
manding the egress toward the beach,
stands a fig tree. ancient, widespread
ing, beneath the natural arbor of
whose branches are placed rustic
table and some chairs. Thither Miss
Theodore transports her book, and ere
long, spectacles on her nose, is again
engrossed in the young ladies' and gen.
tlemen of quality whose love adven-
lures form its staple. Paul, who would
seem to have made a sudden unnatural
lapse into the ways of virtue. loiters
quietly near, with finger on lip, with
eyes still stealing covert, quickly avert
ed glances at his warden's face.
Lower sinks the sun. hotter is the
air; the tide, as yet some distance Off,
murmurs more articulately than does
the sultry wind among the garden
trees.
Theodore vansittarfs head begins
TO nod.
She RECEIVERS herself with a start.
adjusts her spectacles and returns to
the fortunes of her heroine.
Which is the heroine in white satin.
and which is tho attendant in cambric?
Is pursuant guilt or flying virtue .ss &.
the ascendant?
Alasl Theodore fast approaches that
preludatory stage Of slumber in which
the senses continue to bring their mes
sages 20 the brain, but without cohe-
sion or sequence. The smell Of the
lavender and lilies, the droning tide.
the printed characters of the page be-
fore her-of all these things she still is
cognlzant, but mistily. Some influence
she would fain struggle against, but
that perpetually gains the mastery,
floats between her consciousness and
the external world. She dozes, this
time in earnest; her head sinks for
ward again; the effort at recovering
herself is feebler; and Paul, finger on
lip, advances, and finds that the
crunch of his little steps along the
gravel is unnoticed.
Presently the book, heroine and all,
falls upon Miss Theodora's knee.
Heroine? Nay. it is no longer
question of fictitious love affairs. Theo-
dora Yansittart, girl of twenty, in a
bishop-sleeved muslin and pink rib
bons, is herself the centre Of jealous
ring of admirers at an al freseo garrl-
son ball. 1t is in Malta where her
father" Colonel George Vansittart."
commands his regiment. She can see
the smut-blue waters of the port, thick
" studded with trim men-of-waf and
gaudily painted native craft. She can
see the many-tiled roofs of Sanglia
and Conspicua, with the spires and
clEduHl Dl Clttd NeecHid on IHe Iulul
horizon. The military band strikes
np some fashionable dance tune of
the day; poor faded Miss Theodore
feels remembered arm steal round
her waist, hears a remembered voice
eiSse to her ear. She whispers-ah!
in the mazes of the waltz she whis-
pers the yes" that should have
brought warmth and color to anothsr's
life as well as hers. And the volume
of elegant literature falls to the ground,
the drone of the rising tide. the rustic
OF the garden trees disturb her senses
no more-Miss Theodore is asleep.
And now, on tiptoe. his lips apart
and eager, his eyes never quitting his
warden's face, does Paul come for
ward. If he can pass her side in safe
ty, the beach, with all its glorious
wonderland of rocks and pools, lies
before him. With his hand in his
mothers safe clasp. Paul once this