The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1910-07-06
CHAPTER XV.

The cynic and the Countrywoman.
Radfori Leicester stayed at the
cottage among the Deyonshire
moors for several days A more
lonely place could not well be imag
| ined. The cottage itself stood in a
| little dell where trees grew, and
a moorland stream babbled. Early
| spring flowers We're to be seen there
and the smell Of the bursting new
! life OF bracken and heather and
willow bush was sweet beyond
words; but the view from the cot
tage was such as one only finds
in a moorland district For miles
nothing was to be seen but a wild
waste of nearly uninhabitel land
The few cottages We're occupied by
those who had reclaimed strips Of
waste land, and obtained a scanty
living thereon. A month or two
later the whole scene would be
aglow with the bloom of furze
and heather. but now it was grim
and grey and, under a cloudy sky
/ foIbidding. But Leicester was not
sorry for this. The countryside. the
| loneliness. fiUted in with his mood
| He felt that the past was destroyed.
and that the things which were once
! possible to him had come to an end.
What had the future for him?
What was he to do? That was the
question he had to face.
Immediately after he had realized
that Olive Castlemaine was lost to
/ him forever, he had conceive dwild
schemes of revenge He wanted to
make Olive suffer as he had suf-
| Tered; he swore that he would
| humble her pride to the dust, and
that he would win the wager which
| for the present had lost him the
woman he had loved. But that was
all over now. He had become de-
graded in the eyes of the nation
He had no respect for the morality
of the political world, but however
| low 1t might be there was kind
OF moral standard which people de-
manded in their representatives.
They were not troubled because he
had drunk too much, it vas that he
had become Intoxicated at the wrong
time. He had actually appeared on
public platform in state of
! drunken imbeciity. He had given
the opponents of his party the whip
hand, and he had in all probability
lost his party the election That
was his sin, and it would take
years for them to forget it.
Besides, he was not the kind of
man to go back and plead forgive.
ness. His pride forbade him What?
He, Radford Leicester. who had
laughed at these clolhoppers. go
back, cap in hand, and plead with
them to take him back But what
could he do? What had the future
for him? That was the question ne
had to face. Hope gone, faith gone,
purpose gone, while the old craving
for whiskey dOgged him at every
step, what was there for him to
| do? Life was a mockery, a great
| haggard failure. Why should he
seek to prolong it?
And so he spent his days amidst
the loneliness of the moors, thinking
| and brooding He saw no newspa.
pers, received no letters, had no
visitors. He had told the old lady
who kept the cottage that he want
ed week or two's quiet. and
freedom from the hustle of the
world. Besides, he had great
problem to solve, and he had come
there to solve it. He gave his name
as Robert Baxter; it was the first
that came TO his lips, and he spoke
of himself as keenly interested in
sociology. 1t happened that old Mrs.
Sleeman had not the slightest idea
what sociology meant. hut she had
hal several gentlemen in the past
who had come to lodge with her:
they had called themselves artists
and naturalists, and they had come
pretty much in the same way as
Leicester had come. They had been