The Detroit times., 1913-05-02
CHAPTER FIVE.
(Continued.l

M -
The broad green leaves or the corn
and curled in the hot noon
<nun. or rustled softly where breath
n of wind stirred them There was in
tense, searching heat, and silence
NJ the waiting, expectant silence of an
Il August day when the long rainless
okies are about 10 break their
4 drought. A thin blue mist quivered
In the level distance, and on the soft
green undulations OF the pasture
land, which sloped up 10 the densely
y wooded heights OF Landray's Hill.
! mn-steeped and vivid; where the day
first smote with light. and where in
early spring the arbutus bloomed
among the melting patches OF snow
4 In the valley, in the old Indian fields.
as the first settlers had called the
open grassland they found along the
creek bank, short shadows from the
sycamores barred the rustling corn
with slanting shafts OF a richer,
y darker green Then in remote field
was heard the first sound that dis
turbed the silent noon hour: and
from the meadow beyond the corn
field. came the keen swish of scythes
In the tall grass, and a sharp metal
lie ring tuned TO certain rhythmic
beat and swing where mower had
(. paused to sharpen his blade.
The lane ended at a pair of bars
near a clump of trees which clustered
about a spacious brick farmhouse.
This was the Landray home. Back
Of the farmhouse could be dis
tinguished the queer. high-hipped
\ roof Of Landray's mill; and from II
now, mingling with the other sounds,
came the rush of water and the dron-
Ing splash Of wheels.
Tha. young man in the cart glanced
about him with quick sense OF
Measure. He was in the second gen
4ration away from the soil himself
his father had been trader and he
4 was lawyer: but the peace OF II all,
the promised plenty OF the great
eorn-ields, the distant droves Of cat
lie In the shaded pasture lands. the
scent OF the hay, stirred him TO
inmething Very like envy.
"And he'll he leaving all this" he
nuttered under his breath at last;
\ then he added: "And he'll be leav-
ing herr cannot understand IT."
A woman emerged from path
4 that LED of across the fields. and
came down the lane toward him. He
did not see her until she was quite
close: but when he became aware OF
4 her presence he rose hastily from his
oeat In the cart. and hat in hand.
oprane to the ground at her side.
y "Mps. Landray.' he said. and drew
\ the reins forward from the bit 70
that he could walk beside her and
lead his horse ssaA .~,s.-.s
She was Stephen Landray's wife,
and It was of her he had been think
lng but the amount before, for he
{ thought of her more often than he
4 realized. To him she had always
7 seemed most majestic person,
4 ukranEely mature. and with dignity
\ and repose OF bearing that was the
4 bnseduence neither Of age nor any
large experience. He was vaguely
Sware that in actual years he must
d older than she; but nevertheless
"a these notfrequent occasions when
they met. she made him feel con-
ocious ard Ill at ease: he was OPP
pressed by. sense OF his youth and
Z Iaexperience. and the fact that his
ncuuaintance with life went no
Mrther than Benson. and the three
\ abutting counties. became a thing
TO regret and realize even with
shame. But why she, whose life had
Been quite as limited as his own.
vhould seem to carry with her this
!. breath as from a lSrger world. was
something he could not explain, rea-
4 sOn Il out as he would.
Her beauty was OF the generous
Southern type The soft waves Of
her hair cleaned like polished brass
In the sunlight: IL clustered in soft
rings on her low. broad brow: her
skin was like creamy satin. He al
a lowed his eyes to rest on the masses
Of her hair. then on the strong beau
tiful face, her full round throat. and
the lovely lines of her perfect figure.
you have. come TO see my hus-
band. Mr.. Benson" she said
"Yes. Mrs Landray: he sent for
me- He hesitated an instant for
be did not wish to tell her Of TIE