The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1911-02-09
CHAPTER II.
The New Country.


Explain the tragic mystery who can
Something there is, We know not
what in man.
With all established happiness at
strife,
And bent on revolution in his life.
Explain the pan of Providence who
dare,
And tel us wherefore in this world
there are
Beings, who seem for this alone to
live,
Temptation to another soul to give"
Arthur Hugh Clough.
The room in which the wanderer
awoke was a room typical of the Gu
rious lack of originality and pathetic
reliance on the past for guidance
which is characteristic of our age.
1t was genuine old farm house
room, and everything in it had been
carefully fashioned by a London up
holsterer to support its archaic char
acter. There was a little frilled val
ance above the window, a tiny wash
stand of the old, inadequate kind, in
corner; and a box looking-glass
of which the frame may have been
genuine Chippendale, but whose re-
flecting capacity left much to be de-
sired
The four pillars of an ancient -four,
poster had been fixed to very
modern spring bed, and there was
gate-leg table, an incredibly un-
comfortable wooden chair, and a
large oak chest which represen, ed the
only available space for keeping
ing, with the thing you wanted al
ways underneath.
The wallpaper was all over par
rots, the floor covered with thick
mating of plated rushes, which
certain firm in London at that time
recommended as the thing to give
Just the requisite touch of the old
world. 1t was all a deliberate play
ing at simplicity; and the costume
of the chatelaine added the fna,
touch to the impression of unreality
suggested.
1t was high day when the stranger
girl, at rest in the bed, opened her
eyes upon her somewhat absurd
chamber 1t was her first night in
an English private house; and *
made her wonder.
Youth and health are great pow
ers. She felt little the worse for her
exposure except for the throbbing
in her blistered feet. She stretched
herself luXuriously under the warm
and very modern eider-down quilt;
and wondered what kind of land
scape lay outside the drawn cur.
ldlnS OF figured cnlntZ.
At ten o'clock came a tap on the
door and Mrs. Trent peeped in.
Are you ready for some break
fast?" she asked, with an air of gay
hospitality, quite unlike her demean-
or of the previous night. Yes? Bring
it in. Jenifer."
A good humored young woman, with
a very Londonified cap spelling the
general impression sne made of an
excellent farm-servant, brought in a
tray with coffee, hot ham, clotted
cream and other dainties.
You are very kind to me-" said
Miss Wilmot.
Mrs. Trent approached, and the
two surveyed each other in the light
of day, as Jenifer drew back the
window curtains. Mrs. Trent was not
so young as she had seemed by
lamplight. She was too pale, and
her eyes too light
The girl who lay among the pill
lows, her brown hair tossed about
fher face, was not beautiful girl.
Her face was too individual, too
strong for mere prettiness But
she had youth-youth, health and a
superb physique
Her clear face had the brown,
ripe tint of one accustomed to the
open-air life: her teeth were white
and even; her hair adorably curly
lifting itself in charming curves and
waves from her forehead: her eyes,
of greenish hazel. though not con.
spicuously large, were bright and