Newspaper Page Text
THE SUNNY SOUTH
FIFTH ’PAGE
SEPTEMBER /. 1906.
EMOTION,
When lit® in town becomes a boro
And work no longer has Its enarnis.
You leave your cares and seek the shore.
Where you may sit with folded arms;
If then the sea breeze and the sea
Bring not to you a lofty mood
Akin to verse and melody
Oo back and Join the city's brood.
You are but idle vanity.
Bastinado, National Mode of Punishment.
If sun-beamed sea and moaning bar
And tiny treasures on the sands.
And ships that come from ports afar
With crews that yearn their native
lands—
If these arouse your noblest thought
And crave an art to give it form v
In song or music, picture wrought
In subtle pigments, pure and warm.
Then stay—you are not vainly bought.
WALTER A. LANDRY.
August 8, I90A
Ka-Ja-Vas, Common Mode of Travel la Persia.
I Shah Startles Civilization
• ^ By Outstripping Czar In Popular Government ^
the race for civilization. | play. On the occasion of his several
Hardly had the ink dried I trl P s to Europe, he took along great and
on the czar's manifesto dis
persing the duma, and put
ting an end to Russia's
dream of partial govern-
splendidly costumed suiws, and bought
new jewels to add to his already famed
[ S30.000.000 collection. His hosts in Lon-
i don and Paris were glad when he left,
for the handsome, apartments in his hotels
Method Employed hy Persian Merchants in Displaying Their Goods.
YEN far off oriental Persia i a heavy burden of debt on an already] all things for its dryness and purity,
has outstripped Russia. ln| Impoverished country toy his love of dis- The cultivated tracts of the country pro
duce enormous crops, including wheat,
the beet in the world, barley and other
cereals, ©otton, of which, according to
a former Pension ambassador to London,
enough could be grown in the southern
provinces to supply the manufacturers
of 'Europe; sugar, rice and tobacco.
There are also a number of delicious
wines, including that of Shiraz, so fa
mous in eastern poetry.
Mulberries are also largely cultivated,
and silk is an important product.
The forests of the Elberz abound with
such wild animals as; wolves, tigers,
jackals, bears, buffalo, foxes and the
, , Caspian cat. Lions and leopards are
The country is favored in many ways, | also . pIentlfu ; in Mazanderan. Among
but the system .of government lias put am domestic animals the horse and camel
ment by the people, before had to toe completely gone over and re
upholstered, the potentate of the eastern
country having left the place in a state
of shocking tilth and destruction. I-'*
A chance to have a voice in the gov
ernment ought to give the people of Per
sia an opportunity to work out the agri
cultural and commercial success that na
ture seems to have designed for theirs.
the news came that 'the
shah of Persia, despot of
one of the most absolute
monarchies on earth’s face,
had listened to the voice
of progress and volunteered to his peo
ple a national assembly.
The step is so radical that it may be
said to constitute one of the greatest
victories that have ever been won for the
cause of government by the people.
Ever since in 537 B. C.. when the Per
sians under Cyrus rebelled, overthrew the
CMedes, who had temporarily subjugated
them, and founded a mighty empire
which included India, Asia .Minor, Syria,
Palestine and Mesopotamia, Die success
ive shahs have ruled with an iron hand.
The best of them were tyrants, the worst
of them were guilty of atrocities so awful
that they can hardly he hinted at.
The present emperor, Muzaffer-ed-din,
possessed absolute power, limited only
toy domestic intrigues and the fear of pri
vate vengeance. ,Vo one dare question
even to tne smallest point his power over
■the lives and property of his subjects.
If the shah admired a man's wife, and
wanted her for himself, the husband was
in duty bound to consided that a great
compliment had been paid him, and prof
fer not only iiis wife, hut his home, too,
provided, the mighty ruler was willing to
accept the gitt.
Should a ohurl be found who might not
appreciate the glory of having his selee-|
tion of a helpmeet admired, then it wus!
the proper and easy tiling to have tiie
rebellious husband put oul of the way
hy any of a dozen convenient methods,
ranging from decapitation, stabbing tu
tors ure.
When the ruler of such a country de
cides that the time has come for a na
tional assembly, it is a splendid indica
tion Chat no country is so. deeply enchain
ed in tyranny that 1: may not hope to
•break the bonds.
ASSEMBLY’S PERSONNEL
Tho assembly will toe composed of
princes of the blood, clergy, chief of the
reigning dynasty, Cadjar, high dignita
ries and personages, merchants and rep
resentatives of corporations. The assem
bly will meet at Teheran, and it is pro
vided rhut it shall make civil and eonsii-
tut.onai laws, which upon receiving Hie
signature oi tne shah will come inlo
force.
The preacr.t shah lias long been recog
nized as the most liberal ruler Persia ever
had, and he might ioug ago nave granted
some measure oi freedom but tor the
fear of courting assassination by me
slightest slackening of ills autocratic con
trol.
It was the hand of tne regtcldo that j t| )e world’s great powers, have 'been neg
lifted him to me throne, for nls father, [ jected
N’asr-eu-din, was done to death in It»a6. ,
Japanese are in the east, the Tajiks may
become In the west of Asia, which is a
•trong prophecy of success for the fu
ture of the latest addition to the coun
tries of representative government. An
other factor is the Eylats, nomad or
pastoral tribes. Their organization is
similar to that which formerly existed
among the clans of Scotland, and they
preach obedience to the hereditary chief.
GROWTH NOW LIKELY.
Of the four nomad races, the Aurko-
man is the most numerous, and Is a
strong power commercially, for the
tracks of the desert are known to them,
and they make long journeys with their
caravans In order to bring their wares
to the Europeans.
The Insecurity of property has pre
vented the investment of much money
In real estate in Persia. a.nd the houses
are for the matt part built of mud. but
with the new order of things buildings
are likely to be erected whose exteriors
will match the artistic and luxurious In
teriors, as well as the superb gardens
that surround them.
Trade Is- carried on by caravans with
the chief towns of Persia and those of
the Interior of Asia. Silk is raised in
every province, but the finer quality
comes from the north. Tho caravans
exchange the products of Persia for
muslin, leather, ski::#, nankeen, china,
glass, hardware gains dyestuff and
spices. 'European goods are brought to
Tratoree by Conit.tantlno.ple and Trebl-
zondo. and while land routes have been
tendered Insecure by the unsettled condi
tions of Afghanistan and Turkestan,
communication with foreign countries by
way of the Caspian sea arid Persian gulf
Is constantly increasing.
The present shah is now 53 years old,
and his health Is not good. The burden
of determining the success of representa
tive (government in Persia must soon
fall to his second son and he'r. A!i Mo
hammed Mirza, whom he has named as
the valiahd, or crown prince, for succes
sion to the throne.
He is even more progressive than his
father. The present shah uas broken
the accepted rule of succession by choos
ing a son to be valiahd who is not the
offspring of a Kajar princess, but his
people have made no objection.
All Mohammed Mirza was educated in
England, and is quite occidental in his
tastes and ambitions. He has the
courteous, kindly, amiable traits of ills
father, but is sa.id to resemble his grand
father, Nawh-ed-Deen, in strength of
character. He is 30 years old.
SALT: Material of Which This City
Is Built.
Continued from Second Page.
The Persevering Pedestrian j
By WALTER GROGAN *
HERE was a haze over
Torbay, the haze that is
born of excessive heat.
Miss Grace Sercombe sat
on a seat in t'he Terrace, j
each other. One from one leaves noth
ing. Shall I explain further?’ - He looked
smilingly from one to the other.
“Certainly not!” both women ex
claimed sharply. “Well, I'm putting up
at the Imperial,” he continued. “Not
Gardens, Idly turning over j the Imperial!" exclaimed Miss Ser-
the leaves of the latest I combe.
novel. Mrs. Pethy With- ■ "I ascertained that there was room.”
erbridge, her companion, i Ge spoke suavely. “There was an Im-
was similarly occupied ! perial at Pcrlock.” He smiled sweetly
Tbs Shah of Persia,.
i end to public movements, and land that, hold the first place. The horses have J
could toe made immensely fertile by Irri-; always been celebrated as the finest in
gallon has been permitted to go to waste
i merely because canals and other artifi-
i-l
the cast.
They are larger and more handsome,
clal means of distributing waters from the! hut less fleet than the Arabian horses,
numerous shallow rivers, built centuries j The Caspian rivers contain an abundant
ago in the davrs when Persia was one of j supply of fiish, especially sturgeon, great
quantities of which are cured and ex
ported of Russia.
These lanes and canals for irrigating There .is a limitless supply of the finest
Tho former grand vizier, Am-ea-Dowlau, j the coun try are monuments to the archi- '-alt, which is the most important of
was always bitterly opposed to any pro-1 tectural skill and industry of tho ancient I those mineral products that have been
gresslve movement, and it was only by i Persians, and only a few years ago a turned to commercial use
getting rid of him and substituting the foremost English engineer said fnat they
enlightened and liberal, Mushii-od-Dow-!
lah, that the shall was aoie to put into | only a slight outlay.
force his desire to give a representative | This is likely to toe one of the first re-
I'ccru of government to the land of Omar j forms to wAieh members from the agri-
uud the country that saw the origin of
the never to bo forgotten “Arabian
Nights.”
The backbone of the Persian nation is
could be put In working order again for jTajiks. These descend from the an
cient Persian race, and among them is
numbered farmers, merchants and arti
san,;. They are Mohammedans of the
Shiite sect, with the exception of the
j Parsees, who are found in Kerman, am
who still retain the purity of their race
and religious faith.
cultural districts will direct themsc-lves. :
TIIE NATIONAL CROPS.
Except in the Caspian provinces the
Despito lot* lKbonUity, the shah has put! climate of Persia is remarkable above i Vambcry has wutd tiwh that which tlia
chamber 10 feet In diameter, 20 feet high
and containing about 240 candles.
The Kaiser Franz chamber, named
after the present ruler of the dual mon
archy, contains two immense pyramids
with ornamental bases, commemorating
a visit of the emperor and empress many
years ago. This hail is nearly 200 feet
long and about 105 feet high. Reaving
this chamber one crosses a wooden bridge
over a subterranean river filled with
Mind fish, and in the dim light of torches
one beholds another public monument—
an ohelisk 30 feet high carved in rock
salt, and recording a visit of the late
Crown Prince Rudolph and Princess
Stephanie In 1887.
£L£LT LAKES IN CITY.
One may but mention in passing the
Drozdowize and Archduke Frederic.,:
chambers on the way to the Central
railroad station, which is named after
Count Coluchowskl. Here meet all the
little trolley lines o.* the underground
city and It was made a. kind of central
“Broadway” throe centuries mgo. Here
converge many of the principal streets
or galleries of the East Field. The lin
are narrow gauge and the little cars are
drawn by Polish ponies, most of whom
have never been on earth at all and are
born blind.
The platform of this Grand Central
depot has seating accommodations f r
4CO persons, and on holidays its cafes
and restaurants are crowded with vis-
ilors from the upper world, who eat
and drink and enjoy the wild music of
the miners’ orchestra, which echoes and
reverberates strangely through the dint
yet sparkling streets.
Nor must we forget to mention the
salt lakes Of the city. In many places
20 or 30 feet deep and navigated bv
ferryboats containing twenty-five per
sons. These lakes give access to re
mote and very ancient parts of the city,
such, for example, as the Stephanie
grotto, where 6alt-hewn statues of
medieval saints rise strangely out of
the dense salt water, grit enshrined, as
it were, by most beautiful salt stalac
tites and stalagmites. But while admir
ing these wonders, this patient work of
ages, let us not lose sight of the hard
life which the poor mining Inhabitants
of the Salt City are compelled to live.
PEOPLE SHORT LIVED.
There are some 2.000 men at work day
and night down here in eight-hour shifts
and as a rule the men get little more
than 20 cents a day. Hike the monks
of the Great St. Bernard, their allotted
span of life is short. The men have a
peculiar livid look. They are hollow-
cheeked and bloodless—a condition prob
ably due to tlte action of the salt on
the system after years of insidious con
tact.
Besides floods, falls of salt masses and
fires—all of which catastrophes take on
additional horror down in these depths—
another serious danger Is the viol -. t
explosions of cabureted hydrogen, which
may accumulate in newly-excavated
galleries. All holidays, political and te-
lligious, are celebrated in the City of
Salt with a carele:-s elan that blots out
all thought of sorrow. There are im
posing services in the unique cathedral,
dances, picnics, boating parties and even
marriages down in this strange under
world, hollowed out of the ro, k salt.
Children are born here, too, and chris
tened. When these grow up, of course,
the ytake naturally to the work of their
fathers and help to hew out the hun
dreds of thousands of tons of rock sal,
which is a government monopoly. The
men seem perfectly happy and to see
them on a festive day, when the streets
are half an inch deep In ruby and dia
mond-flashing salt pebbles and dus:,
when the emperor may be on his thror.e
in the great Lentow saloon and 250
Slav musicians directing a perfect orgy
of delights--tiien, indeed, one would say
the citizens of the salt domain need no
sympathy Iron: outsiders.—ih.c^u
.Cnroniele.
with the latest but one.
“Torquay Is tranquil,” Miss
Sercombe announced, sud
denly. “After the turmoil
of Teignmouth it is particularly grateful.
This Is a silly book, Mary.”
“We have had a respite of three days.”
Mrs. Pethy Witherbridge heaved an ap
preciative sigh. She was a young widow
with excellent references, and her salary
was equally excellent. Her position of
companion io the youthful, wealthy and
beautiful Grace Sercombe. (Miss Sercombe
was dowered with all the attractions of a
heroine Imagined by the most feminine
of novelists) permitted her a combination
of luxury and tyranny which was fast
banishing the regrets of widowhood, that
Is, presuming that so sensible and world
ly wise a little woman as Mrs. Pethy
Witherbridge ever really regretted the
superfious husband. “For three whole
days we have been unmolested. Grace.
This book is worse than silly—it suffers
from Indigestion of ideas. I think we
•have shaken off the Persevering Pedes
trian."
“I think we have,” Miss Sercombe
agreed. There was a faint tinge of re
gret in her voice. “He lias found us out
in Ilfracombe. Tinta.gel, Newquay. Sid-
mouth and Teignmouth—but Torquay has
baffled him.” Inconsequently, she added,
“I wish I were not so horribly rich.”
“Poverty, Of course, would rid you of
persecution.”
"I didn't mean that." Miss Sercombe’s
voice wa s tinged with unusual acid.
"No, dear? Oh, I see!" with a sudden
■gasp of pitying comprehension. “Fairy
tales. The cottage and the roses and
the bread and cheese and the kisses. All
that went out of fashion, dear, years ago
—the cottage wag far too cramped, the
roses died, and the boughs harbored spi
ders, bread and cheese became too mo
notonous, and the kisses acquired a |
habit of straying. An income, my dear, |
is a blessing, it may have some incon
veniences, but its absence has more.”
“He was good looking,” Miss Sercombe
reverted to tlhe previous subject, ignor
ing Mrs. Pethy Witherbridge’s wisdom.
“Certainly—that class of man is inva
riably good looking."
“What do you mean by ‘that class of
man,' Mary? Please be definite. At
least, in his presence you do not appear
to bo altogether disapproving." Mis.
Pethy Witherbridge took alarm at the
slightly defiant note In Miss Sercombe s
voice, and promptly adopted sedative tac. i
ties.
“My dear, we have discussed all thi
before—several times. And you quit,
agreed with me.”
"Yes—you made out a good case.”
“My dear Grace, I am making out
at each in turn; both women promptly
! examined the footpath. "Similarity in
j names should be discouraged or the town
invariably mentioned in conjunction.”
Miss Sercombe looked at him with some
alarm. “No, Miss Sercombe. I am not
mad—I am merely investigating.” Mrs.
Pethy Witherbridge bit her lip. “I feel
that I have foolishly wasted a eouple of
days—I have even been constrained to
take a train, which was not quite sport
ing. I hear that the Imperial is not very
full. I have seen the porter at tlie sta
tion. lie will find me a seat at a table
where I can see the bay. The view from
the windows in the dining room is ador
able. There will be a lovely sunset to
night. It will commence somewhere
about the cheese.”
“But we are at the table overlooking
the sea!” said Miss Sercombe, aghast.
"Exactly—intelligent fellow, the porter.”
“You bribed him!” exclaimed Mrs. With
erbridge. “Information is not invariably
gratuitous.” H e smiled amiably. “I re
gret that I gave him half a crown—I
Oink a florip would have been suffi
cient.”
"That,” said Miss Sercomtoe, “is hardly
complimentary.”
No, but it is true. No doubt you re
gard me as mean. A woman would. Un
fortunately. I have very little money
with me.”
Mrs. Pathy Witherbridge telegraphed a
significant “You see, dear,” to Grace
behind John Smith's broad back.
“The Imperial is not a cheap hotel.”
Miss Sercombe tried to be severe.
"No—but it must be the Imperial—you
can appreciate the reason.” He smiled
upon both. “I have no dress clothes, as |
you know—I really wish you patronized
less modish hotels. I am regarded with
suspicion. I know it. To dine in tweeds
is a sin against British society, especially
when the tweeds belong to an undistin
guished John Smith. Do you take tea
at the hotel?”
"It is too late,” Mrs. Witherbridge an
nounced.
“Ah, then we will go across to the lit
tle place on the pier. Look at those ab
surd men playing bowls!"
"We want no tea,” declared Miss Ser
combe.
"That is nonesense—you are essentially
feminine. Besides, you can ave coffee.
Come along.” ,
They were helpless before iris dominant
persona'‘fy. He listened to no excuse,
snubs were powerless to shake him. Se
rene and good-humored, lie swept all ob
stacles aside, gave them tea. and finally
drove them in triumph and the charac
teristic “midge" (a little fly) to th t . Im
perial hotel. When later they found their
waiter smiling in expectation of their
pleasure at Ills arrangement of the third
chair they shrugged their shoulders re
signedly.
“I’m glad you are taking It like that,” |
would be watching.” Mrs. Pethy With
erbridge laughed a little unmusically.
“I was probing. I felt that It was ab
solutely necessary to find out what his
aims are. He is very poor.”
‘T’hat Is hardly an aim. Besides, all
really nice men are poor.”
“And you are very wealthy. He has
been so persistent. You see with me,
dear, that a man with really nice feel
ings would he sensitive. He 13 not at
all. Ah, Grace, I regard you as a sister
—could you ever be sure of him?” Mrs.
Witherbridge took a plunge herocially.
“I suppose not,” Grace said, dreamily.
“And yet—It is horrid to realize that
money can buy everything but the ona
thing that matters.”
“And that is, dear?” her companion
asked, anxiously.
Miss Sercombe '.ooked out at the
witchery of the night. A band of sil
ver lay over the tranquil bay. The
drowsy eye of a sleeping yacht blinked
lazily under the shadow of Berry Head.
“Love,” Grace whimpered, shyly.
“We must certainly go up to the Moor
tomorrow. I will tell Annette to pack,
Mrs. Pethy Withcridge said, with de
cision.
, • • • •
The journey to the little moorland vil
lage of Bovey Tracey, and the drive up
to the hotel which overlooked the rolling
waves of heather and gorse was not a
joyful one. Mrs. Pethy Witlieridge
was restless and excited, oddly unsym
pathetic to Grace. Miss Sercombe was
listless, she sat with folded nands in ner
lap. dreaming, ana net eyes were shad
owed with sadness. She had but few
conscious thoughts. Tnat most recur
rent was a hatied of her wealth. It
seemed to her that it tainted all her as
sociations with the world of humanity.
The next morning Air.--. Pethy VV ither-
bridge announced ner intention of driv
ing to Chagtord. “1 shall not feel ab-
s ut<-lv sale until we are in a little
house of our own. The Persevering Pe
destrian cannot 'toliow us there.
■ I suppose not,” Grace acquiesced, half
languidly, half-regretfully.
• I have heard o£ a furnished house to
let. You will not care to come?”
No, Grace did not care to come. She
jumped at the prospect of being rid of
her companion for a day, her practical
experience of the world had grown very
distasteful. „
'idle morning was hot, but a breeze ruf
fling the clouds and streaking the moor
lands with shadows tempted Miss Ser-
corntoe out of doors. There were a few
visitors in the hotel whom for some un
accountable reason she disliked cordially.
Near noon she sat in a fairy worid of
gieen leaves and cool moss, watching the
creaming stream tumble over lichened
bowlers in the Becky falls.
“This was easier to find than Tor
quay,” said a clear voice just behind her.
She gave a gasp, and stared up into the
face of John Smith.
“Air. Smith!” she managed to say.
"Surprised? I thought you had got
used to my turning up. Mrs. Wittoer-
bridge is at Chagford.”
“You are particularly well posted in
our movements!”
“Yes. You see, I take an Interest in
them. I knew she wouldn't take 'her com
panion with her." He smiled a Iittia
grimly, Grace was determined.
“Her companion?” she echoeU.
“Yes. She told me that. You are
no case at all. I am merely giving vou i sai<l John Smith, who had come in be- I rather young for such a situation, aren't
, experience. The Per- I hin<1 them very silently. “Kismet, eli—! you? That is, with her."
tihe benefit of my experience. The Per
severing Pedestrian knows that you are
wealthy.”
“Does he?” asked Grace.
“Of course, dear. Why should he per
severe?"
“Because—no, of course, you are right,
•Mary.”
"Miss Sercombe, of Sercombe Hall, is
easily traceable. Well, dear, you see we
have a wealthy and romantic young giri
and a handsome, persevering stranger
with an unknown name who presumes
upon a trifling service once paid. The
•reason of tiie perseverance is obvious.”
“We can hardly regard John Smith as a
name quite unknown, Mary!” Aliss Ser
combe stiffened suddenly, and a. curious
light came into her eyes. “Alary, look
down the terrace!”
Through the leaves of a tree, treading
'heavily on the winding path, came a
big young men, much powdered by dust,
and hearing upon his broad shoulders a
workmanlike knapsack.
“The Persevering Pedestrian!” cried
Mrs. Pethy Witherbridge.
“The unknown John Smith!” murmured
Miss Sercombe. Both women were im
mediately immersed in their novels.
“The gods are very kind to me.” The
full, round masculine voice startled both
women uncommonly. “Mis. Wittoer-
bridge, howdy do Aliss Sercombe. how
dy do? 1 thought I should find you.”
“You thought you would find us?”
echoed Airs. Witherbridge. Miss Ser
combe was incapable of saying anything.
“Yes.” said John Smith, joyfully. “When
you slipped away from tne at Teignmouth
I gave myself two days in which to find
you. Running over to Torquay was a
good-move, though—it was so obvious that i
1 overlooked it. I tried Porlock—I was
almost sure of Porlock. I've done forty j
miles today." He spoke with some tinge ;
of pride, and looked at his thick, dusty
boots with affection. “You know that
we—we wish to avoid you?” demanded
Miss Sercombe.
“I know that—or—one of you does.”
Both women looked supremely uncom
fortable.
“That does not deter you?” “Not a
bit,” be replied, cheerfully. “Why should
it? After all, it is question of mathe
matics. Differences of opinion destroy
or the old man of the sea? Yes, I have i
slippers in my knapsack—they make no j
noise. Bit gaudy, but remarkably com- ,
fortable. I call this view jolly.” He
spoke easily and well at dinner. He had
seen many places off the beaten track,
had gather'd information from many j
strange quarters, and used it not for ;
his own glorification, but for the amuse
ment of his listeners.
"You have been far and seen much,” i
said Afis.s Sercombe. The time was near- !
ing that appointed for the sunset by j
John Smith, and there was a distinct j
diminution of acerbity in her tones.
“Yes, I was always restless. I tramp— j
one sees more that way. And being ■
John Smith is a help. No one is jcai- |
ous of John Smith, or wants to make a
“She told you—” Aliss Sercombe sat
up to consider the question.
“We were quite confidential that eve
ning at Torquay—in the hotel garden, you
know. She told me many things—mostly
inaccurate. Tt was rather troublesome
winnowing. She said you were poor—
child of some one on her estate—I was
glad of that.”
“flit—you thought that that was true?"
“Yes. There was no other reason for
your staying with her. She said vou
were mercenary. That was inaccurate, of
course. Declared that you dragged her
from hotel to hotel for fear that site
would—er—find other attractions and so
Ipove yon without an engagement.”
“How could she!" Grace was furiously
indignant.
“1 don't know Evidently she found it
easy. She left slips of paper for me at
- . • . . ,, . , . , , : each hotel. Unsigned, of course. T wasn't
fuss over him, or is at all interested in ; quitp surP which of you , t was . The si in
what he does. Se he can do more than gave
most—as long as he remains John Smith,
an emotionless, undisiinguishable nonen
tity. It is not a name, it is an anony
mity.”
He was so agreeable that, after a few
minutes' retirement to the drawing room,
Aliss Sercomtoe, duly stung by her com
panion into remembering tiie excessive
attractions of her wealth,
went up to her room.
me the next hotel and town. Tho
At a much later hour Airs. Pethy With- !
erbridge joined her. Site was somewhat j
disconcerted to find tire electric light i
switched off and Grace seated at the j
window which commanded a fine view of [
the moonlit bay and the small garden j
terraced down to the water.
“Aly dear,” she commenced, “the Per- |
severing Pedestrian is intolerable. I fear 1
I am too young to properly snub him.” i
She smiled deprecattngly in tho moon- !
light, and Grace thought her youthful—
which was comparatively true, and
handsome—which was mostly tiie com
passion of the moonlight. Thinking thus,
•Grace took herself to task inwjtrdly
for a distinct feeling of dislike “Lu k_
ily there is an hotel on the Aloor. It is
very healthy—and you will like tiie
scenery.”
“You did not appear to find hint in
tolerable this evening. Alary. You were
a long time in the garden.” She tri d,
rather vainly, to keep all persona! feel
ing out of her voice.
“Did you see us? I did not think you
one omitted the town.’’
You thought it might be me?”
1 hoped i! might be you. At Torquay
ound out. You were merely shy. By
the way. t sent Airs. AVitherbridge to
Chn e-ford."
“You did? Whv’”
“To get her our of the wav.” He leaned
towards her suddenly, and took her
immediately hands. "You’ve been her companion long
enough—T want you for mine now. T’v«
* ! loved you a long time, Grace. I’ve been
looking for you all mv life. Don’t turn
away. You love me—T know it. I have
been fully aware of it for the last ten
minutes. We can be married in a
month.”
“But-
“So that is settled. I’m glad you ara
poor.”
“t am not.”
“That is an exouisite compliment ”
smiled at her lovingly. “As a matter of
fact it is true—although you didn't know
it. T am uncomfortably rich—I have
i adopted the name of ‘John Smith’ for
! purposes of protection against the repso-
j jtv of hotel keepers. My name is really
; Ashlin—”
“The Lord Ashlin whom Afary ortre
I met? The eighth baron of whom she
\ raved?”
“Then she knew me!” He laughed pro-
: diglously.
| Grace Sercombe looked at him gravely,
j “You !\ave made one mistake. Airs.
| Pothv Witherbridge is my companion.
! not T hers, anil T also am rich.”
“Egad!” The Persevering Pedestrian
•wMstiol. “At all events there is no mis-
' tf'ro about our loving each other.”
“No,” Grace answered.