The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1911-04-06
CContinued.)
CHAPTER III.
The New Country.


Something there is, we know not
what, in man,
With all established happiness at
strife,
And bent on revolution in his life.
Explain the plan of Providence who
dare.
And tell 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 a genuine old farmhouse
room, and everything in it had been
carefully fashioned by London up
holsterer to support its archaic char
acter. There was a little frilled va
lance above the window, tiny wash
stand of the old, inadequate kind, in
a corner: and a bog looking-glass of
which the frame may have been gen.
uine Chippendale, but whose reflect
ing capacity left much to be desired.
The four pillars of an ancient four
poster had been fixed to very mod
ern spring bed, and there was gate
leg table. an incredibly uncomfort-
able wooden chair, and a large oak
chest which represented the only
available space for keeping clothes,
and suggested wild rummaging, with
the thing you wanted always under
meath.
The wallpaper was all over par
rots. the floor covered with a thick
mating of plated rushes, which a
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 playing at sim
plicity: and the costume of the chat
elaine added the final touch to the
impression of unreality suggested.
II was high day when the stranger
eyes upon her somewhat absurd
chamber. 1t was her first night in an
English private house: and it made
her wonder.
Youth and health are great powers.
She felt little the worse for her eX-
posure. except for the throbbing in
her bIistered feet. She stretched her
self Iuxuriously under the warm and
very modern eider-down quilt: and
wondered what kind of landscape
lay outside the drawn curtains of fig
ured chintz.
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-
OF of the previous night. Yes? Bring
il in, Jenifer."
a good-humored young woman
with very Londonifed cap spelling
the general impression she made OF
an excellent farm-servant, brought in
n 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 win
dow curtains. Mrs. Trent was not &c
young as she had seemed by lamp
light. She was too pale. and hel
eyes too light.
The girl who lay among the pillows
her brown hair tossed about her face
was not a beautiful girl. Her face
was too individual, too strong fol
mere prettiness. But she had youth
youth, health and a superb phys.
ique
Her clear face had the brown, ripe
tint of one accustomed to the open
air life; her teeth were white anG
even. her hair adorably curly, lifting
itself in charming curves and waves
from her forehead; her eyes, Of
greenish hazel. though not conspicu
ously large, were bright and full OF
expression, the white of them blue
with the clarity which is the result OF
perfectly tempered conditions.
Mrs. Trent had not yet arranged
her splendid hair for the day. L
hung about her, and emphasized the
fact that the skin of her throat wa:
no longer quite firm. Her elaborate
wrapper was a good deal soiled, and
in fact. she looked haggard. Her pale
eyes rested with mute envy on the
beautiful lines of the girls form, a:
she stretched her arms above hel
head, sat up, and shook back hel
curly locks
How do you feel?" asked the hos
tess. sitting down to a chat when tn;
maid had departed.
wonderful, 1 feel quite well. How
dismally hunger takes the courage
out of onei- If / could have bough
some buns. should never have com'
to the desperate pass you saw. Blu
mile after mile 1 tramped-mile aftel
mile and no sign of human habita
tons. I thought England was jus
strewn with houses all over, and tele