The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-04-08

clearly that they could not continue
to live in adjacent houses, upon their
present terms. They must either
marry or decide not to marry. And
in the latter case. parting was, he
felt, the only thing for him. So they
agreed that she should come 10 Eng
land land that fof twelve months she
should be free. He, in the mean
time, would set inquiries on foot to
find out where his wife was, and if
she was still alive.
In resolving to remain behind,
Gladwyn had chosen the harder part.
Vernon had no idea, in her young,
undeveloped nature, Of what it cost
him to see her go forth into a world
full of other men. Young, full Of
health, and, in his opinion, unspeaS-
ably attractive,h did wonder at him
self when his straining eyes could no
longer see the train that bore her
across the Continent. But, as he re-
turned to the Ranch emptied of all
that had made life joyous, he told
himself that his own feelings at that
conduct. He knew in his heart that
she would never come back. If that
were true, then, how wrong he would
have been to tie her down.
Vernon had suffered, too, in the
parting. She was leaving every IA
miIiar thing behind her. In the last
hour, she had been very near cling
ing to Lionel and saying that she
could not go. But there was in ner
an element of adventure, a spirit Of
youth and enterprise, which drove
her forward. She must see what life
was, before she could settle down
content.
And before she reached New York,
the wanderlust had hold Of her. She
felt she could go on now, to the
worlds end. The lady who had been
her escort across Canada-and who
was returning from a visit to a mar
ried daughter-came no farther than
board the boat, and thence the girl
sailed out solitary into the unknown.
And this was the unknown.
This countryside, which seemed to
daries,-this place where every ones
property was clearly demarcated,
where one saw no wide spaces, no
waste land; where houses and farms
seemed to be inhabited by a puzzling
sort of peop1e-where neighbors were
not neighborly. Lionel had prepar-
ed her mind as carefully as he could
| for the changes she would find. The
first two days of her abode in Eng
| land were spent in great efforts TO
| adjust her impressions to his sage
counsels. Yes, Lionel knew Eng
land, no doubt, but there was good
deal to puzzle the newcomer.
| my DEAR said Aunt Emma, after
lunch the second day, 'I feel that it
| is our duty to drive to Barrow End,
call upon Mrs. Trent, and thank her
for befriending you" She said it in
| a tone of courageous resignation.
Her niece heaved a sigh. Eyes and
take back my borrowed plumes," she
said seriously, "now that my own
| things have come. But L still feel
very much a girl from the backwoods
auntie. Have you any large towns
around, where I could fix myself up
| with clothes?"
Jem made sound in his throat in
| dicative of mirth. Vernon's Ameri-
canisms were the only thing in her
which, so far, provoked this queer,
growing chuckle of his.
my dear, Of course. Jem must
drive us to Yeominster,'' said Mrs.
Bardsley. "I wonder if you have time
to drive us to Barrow End to-day,
| Jem?''
| Sorry" said Jem, diligently help
ling himself to more beef, "but must
ride to Appleton and see Davis about
| Morgans mortgage