Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1919-05-27
her ADVENTURE
BY AGNES c. BRoeAN.
lCepyrtght, 1919, BY Western Newspaper UniOn.l


Cynthia leaned back and let the mo-
torboat travel aimlessly down the riv-
er; she was undecided what to Go with
her afternoon. If only things hap
pened in real life as they did in those
enchanting magazine stories! g
In such setting as this, something
delightfully."- unexpected would be sure
to befall magazine heroine. Yet here
was Cynthia, her fourth week at the
Point, and each day following another
In tiresome sameness. She had read
until interesting episodes merely pro-
voked by contrast to commonplace re-
alities. She had not even tried to be
companionable with the unintereSting
young men who made the hotel theit
Headquarters while fishing or sailing
the river. The woman guests also were
very ordinary with their constant plan
ming for dances and their endless ver-
anda conversations.
Her one pleasant relaxation was
daily visit to the lighthouse, whose
white tower showed far away. There
was tiny garden at the back Of the
lighthouse and room enough beyond
for Cynthia to moor her small boat.
The old keeper of the Point, who was
quite q famous character with habi-
tues, was deaf, but he exacted little
conversation from his visitors, enter
tanning them instead, with true tales
worthy of the magazines to which
Cynthia subscribed.
Old Charles life had been one OF
adventure. There was love story
woven through it too, story with
sad ending, which had not embittered
the old mans CHEEKY spirit. Cynthia
loved to listen to his life story swing
ing in Charles hammock and speak
ing her admiration afterward-which
would bring a CLEAN of pleasure to
the seaman's eyes-of his perfect
housekeeping. For the seaman's home
was the lighthouse. Ha bunk fitted
one end of the spotless kitchen.
On cloudless days Cynthia used to
climb up the narrow stair to the high
upper balcony. The view from here
was magnificent and the peaceful quiet
most inspiring. Old Charlie had many
visitors, but Cynthia was favorite OF
them all.
Cynthia anchored her boat and
climbed the incline to the lighthouse
door. Charlie was not in sight. He
had gone, no doubt, for his daily sup.
plies and would soon return. Cynthia
decided to ascend to the high balcony
and to '1ook the landscape o'er."
She noticed as she came through the
small iron door that clouds mo bigger
than a mans hand" were scurryins
across the sky. The swift breeze they
occasioned came to her gratefully; the
day had been exceedingly hot. Hyp-
noticaily she watched the break of the
waves as she crouched against the iron
door, Then Cynthia fell asleep. 1t
was a rude beating blast which
aroused her to consciousness and to
the realization that the afternoon was
far spent and quick storm brewing.
She stood up clinging to the railing
as the wind tapped her skirts and
wondering whether 1t would be wise to
venture now upon the homeward trip
in her tiny craft or to await in old
Charles comfortable kitchen the
cessation Of the storm. AS heavy
drops fell upon her upturned face she
decided upon the latter course and
turned to open the towers iron door.
Then with gasp of dismay Cynthia
found that she had thoughtlesslg
closed the door, which locked with
spring and could only be opened from
the inner side.
Propping herself In wise between
door and rail Cynthia sat, the wind
tearing at her, the rain failing upon
her unprotected head. In last futile
effort she crept slowly around the high
tower, though she knew there was no
other means of descent save through
the closed iron door. She could cry, OF
course, but who could heed her sob
bing? No, she must hopelessly cling
bit of human driftwood, buffeted by
the elements.
BY and by the lights would CLEAN
out around her, showing across the
angry waters-still she would be alone
perhaps throughout the night. II
would not likely occur to those at the
hotel that she had stopped at the light.
house. They would be more likely to
think her safely sheltered in the Yacht
club.
Peering through her wet hair, Gym
thia discerned at last another motor
boat making its troubled way through
the waSas-it had touched shore-old
Charlie perhaps returned from his er-
rand. Cynthia determined to scream;
a piercing scream might reach his dead
ear drums. But there was no response.
In her really critical position the girl
laughed tremulously. Well-here was
har adventure at last