The independent-reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1909-1955, 1909-11-04

the chateau. Lights cleaned
~ In hundred of its windows.
The bitterness of his own isolation.
the ostraeism that circumstance had
forced upon him, would have been
maddening on this night had not all
rancor been tempered by the glorious
achievement in the market place. He
wondered IL the princess knew what
he had dared and what he had accom-
plished In the early hours of the night.
He wondered If they had pointed out
his solitary light to her-if now and
then she bestowed a casual glance
upon that twinkling star of his. The
porch lantern hung almost directly
above his head.
The chateau was indeed the home
Of revelry. The pent up, struggling
spirits of those who had dwelt therein
for months in solitude arose In the
wild stampede for freedom. All petty
differences between Lady Deppingham
and Drusilla Browne, and they were
quite common now, were forgotten In
the whirlwind Of relief that came with
the strangers from the yacht. Mrs.
Brownies good looking, eager husband
reveled in the prospect Of this de-
lirious night, this almost Arabian
night. He was swept off his feet by
the radiant princess. the Scheherezade
of his boyhood dreams. His blithe
heart thumped as 1t had not done
since he was a boy. The Duchess of
N. and the handsome Marchioness of
B. came into his tired. hungry life
at moment when it most needed
the light. 1t was he who fairly
dragged Lady Agnes aside and pro-
posed the banquet, the dance, the con-
cert-everything-an it was he who
carried out the hundred spasmodic In
structions that she gave.
Late In the night, long after the din
ner and the dance, the tired but happy
company hocked to the picturesque
hanging garden for rest and the last
refreshment.
The hanging garden was a wonder
fully constructed open air plaisance
suspended between the chateau itself
and the great cliff In whose shadow it
stood. The cliff lowered at least 800
feet above the roof Of the spreading
chateau, veritable stone wall that
extended for a mile or more In either
direction.
Near the chateau there was real
waterfall, reminding one In no small
sense of the misty wells at Lauter-
brunnen or Giesbach. The swift
stream which obtained life from these
falls, big ard little, ran along the case
of the cliff for some distance am was
then diverted by means of e deep, ar
tif1cial channel into an almost COM
plete circuit of the chateau, forming
the moat 1t sped aiong ct She foot
of the upper terrace, a wide torreht
that washed between solid walls of
masonry, which rose to height Of not
less than ten feet on either side. There
were two drawbridges, seldom used.
tionary bridge crossed the vicious
stream Immediately below the hang
ing garden and led to the ladders by
which one assembled to the caverns
that ran far back into the mountain.
Two big black irregular holes In the
face of the cliff marked the entrance
to these deep rambling caves, wonder
full caverns wrought by the convul-
sions of the dead volcano, cracks made
by these splintering earthquakes when
the island was new.
The garden hung high between the
building and the cliff, swung by a
score Of great steel cables. These ca
bles were riveted soundly In the solid
rock of the cliff at one end and fasten-
ed as safely to the stone walls Of the
chateau at the other. 1t swung stanch-
ly from Its moorings with the con-
stancy of a suspension bridge and
trembled at the slightest touch.
1t was at least a hundred feet
square. The floor was covered with
foot or more Of soil, In which the rich
grass and plants Of the tropics -four
ished. Cool fountains sprayed the air
at either end of the green Enclosure.
The illusion was complete.
The walls surrounding the garden
were three feet high and were intend
ed to represent the typical English
garden wall of brick. To gain access
to the hanging garden one crossed a
narrow bridge which led from the sec
ond balcony Of the chateau. There
was not an hour In the day when pro-
lection from the sun could not be
found In this little paradise.
Bobby Browne was holding forth
with his usual exuberance on the mag
ni6cence of the British navy.
There she Is now. sleeping out there
In the harbor, great big thing with
the kindest of hearts inside of those
steel ribs-her majesty's ship the
Kings Own! Think of IT. She con-