The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1908-12-02

on the one hand, and on the other
great cliffs that seemed to touch the
sky. Then she recollected being on
the height herself-though how she
got there she never knew-looking
down on a ribbon Of river and a nut
shell of a boat.
The people at the hotel where the
coach stopped were up and preparing
breakfast in expectation of arrivals
from the steamer. Yes, NJ. Sommes
had dined there the evening before,
and been the life and soul of the
party. He had gone out afterwards
to have a look at the town; had de-
clared on his return that 1t was a
rotten old hole full of moldy monks
and nuns; had heard that there was
to be a high tide at the Mont st.
Michel next day, and had gone on at
once via Dol to see it come in. How
could she get to the Mont st. Michel?
Gertrude asked-in her sleep, as 1t
seemed to herself. The Mont st.
Michel was in Normandy, and she was
in Brittany surely. She had some
sort Of vague notion 1t must be nun
dreds of miles away.
Oh, they told her, it was easy
enough. There was the railway to
Dol, and at Dol she could hire a
private vehicle and drive the rest
of the distance, passing through Pom
! torson-a beautiful country, madame
| would certainly enjoy it. Madame
| did certainly traverse it, but b
never knew how she accomplished the
feat, for her enjoyment, if any she
had, was taken out in sleep. A dead
ly drowsiness came over her in the
hotel at Oman, where she break
tasted. She must have lived and
moved through it, and had her being,
as people do when wide awake, but
the faculty she used was the n we
work in dreams. For the first thing
| Of which she was conscious in a nat
ural way after she had b~reakfasted
at Oman was the sudden ceasing Of
some noise. She Strengthened her
self to see what 1t was, and then she
found that she had been lying back
in a numbering old carriage which
had just been stopped on the edge
of a desert Of sand. Some tamarisk
bushes were growing near her and
on the seat opposite was a branch OF
beautiful rosy apples set off by their
own green leaves-a delicate atten-
ton of the drivers, doubtless, plucked
by the way, for it was the time Of
apples there and all the country was
sweet with them.
Waking slowly to full conscious
ness, she glanced from these trifing
objects to the driver himself, and
found him looking at her. He wore
a long blue blouse over his clothes to
keep off the dust, which gave him a
juvenile look, as Of a schoolboy
whose whiskers had come too soon.
His hair was black and coarse, his
skin swarthy, the expression Of his
face anxious and melancholy, as 1t
often is with the Breton folk, and,
for that reason, perhaps, Gertrude
felt a liking for him at once. He had
stopped to show her that great object
Of interest, the Mont st. Michel, ris-
ing up gaunt and alone out of a will
derness of sand, like a cottage loaf on
a bare board, and Avranche over
there where the sun vas shining; and
the direction from which would come
the sea, which not only went out
here, but went out of sight, and then
came back like a racehorse, a wall
of water, sometimes ten feet high,
which swept all before it; and woe
be then to the loiterer who might
have wandered out on the sands!
And there were other dangers, too
the quicksands, which were strong
enough to swallow nan and horse
and always shifting after every tide;
and the rivers yonder, changing their
courses often, so that you never knew
where you were. What was the road
to the Mont to-day, there across the
sand, would be o~bliterated, to-mor-
row, and might be the bed Of a river.
1t was like life, as he often thought,
all uncertainty, danger and difficulty
with which he whipped up his
horse, and they began to plunge
along the heavy. track made by
previous vehicles over the sand.
Then Gertrude reused herself and
began to think. Was her husband
there really, or had his wandering
mind led him off in some quite oppo-
site direction, so that she must miss
him after all? Heart-sick at the
prospect, she felt her Impotence
grow every moment, and these last
few yards of the journey seemed a
never ending interval of anxiety more
tedious than all that had gone be-
fore. She was not subject to phases,
nor, as a rule, to periods of exalta-
ton and subsequent periods of reac-
ton and depression. Reason was the
pilot that had steered her so far
through all her tranquil, happy life.
Yet now, for a wonder, doubtless be-
cause her physical condition was low
cred and weakened by fatigue and
anxiety, she suddenly found herself
in a state of morbid excitement. She
became a prey to the rage to arrive.
The desire to find her husband and
to be with him again recalled sensa-
tions Of extreme agony. She would
have taken chloroform gladly to es-
cape it. The driver, when they
reached the Mont st. Michel, stopped
at the first hotel they came to, which,
as it seemed to Gertrude, was just