Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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V «f“ : r- C o. r PAGE 1 TWO • - \ ■' • N T J J - • R > • \ ■ ■ ' v — BARNWELL SENTINEL, BARNWELL, SOUTH CAROLINA ~TT~~~7 -—l-r[ •■■ - J- m t. - nt * =/” . "• * : 1 . 7 •r v- ■ -1«. By E. PHILLIPS OPPE ■ / LL the world love? :t lover, find nil tho world chortles with de light -when a charming Kiri fascinates qn avowed woman-hater und trains him to eat quietly out .of heTTuiirff. In the story which We offer here, the charming heroine does nothing sa common place as to fascinate one nnvn ; sin* fascinates ‘dozens. AiuLin thR-end- she 1ms not one woman-hater eating out of her hand,' hut Three of .the crustiest huehejors you ever saw following her a round.. like- faithful^-j-. dogs. “The lliflmaiP- is altogether delightful, ;-&nd we feel sure our readers will enjoy; the serial, thoroughly. r_ ' * r* ■. *' THE EDITOR. hu Straugewey'.usliered his com-rj her way'paused before tm old eheifal panton. .Into the. 'Square, oak-paneled glass, before which were suspended two silver candlesticks containing lighted wax candles; She looked stead fastly at her own reflection. A little As regards tonight^-! had not made up" 4 There have been some.of our race who j ’ i -■ « i „ .. ,1 i ^ a >. - i. A l. „ ' e „ ... a. .. ,1 i .. r ^ «lw. 1. . 1 n rv/1a have been tempted into the lowlands and the cities. Not one of them CHAPTER I. Louise was leaning back among the j by his sld% “For the’first timeTn my cushions of (he motionless car. The j life you rnuke me feel undersized,” moon had not yet risen, but a faint and He looked down at her, a little more luminous glow, spreading like a halo at his ease.now h.v reason of the friend- about the topmost peak of* the ragged liness of her manner, although he hud line ‘d^hllls, heralded its approach. swept the hillsides, vainly - John innlon. .... hall, hung with many trophies of the chase, a few oil-paintings, here and there, som’e sporting; prints. It 'was lighted only with a single lamp which stood" upon a round, polishedStable in the center of the white-flagged floor. _ _ ___ __ _ i _ ‘‘This lady’s motor-car has broken, illustrated papers and the enterprise j; “My Brother,” John told her, “has her hands clasped behind her back, dpwn, Stephen,” John explained, turn- of the modern 'photographer had corn-'; not been farther away t#nn the near- glanbed. toward John, who still .stood ing a little nervously toward his bn^th- J bfncd to make familiar to the world— .est market town for-.nearly twenty by her side. er. “I found them in the road, just ; the figure of a giri, it seemed, notwith* years.” ! -‘“Tell the,” she asked him, “have at the bottom of the hill, she and her j standing her twenty-seven years, tier j jjer eyes grew round with astonish- 1 none of yopr people who went out into servants .will, spepd the night here. . I soft, white blouse was open' at the ment. - 11 the world ddue-well for themselves?”- iny mind. I rather hoped to reach Kendal. My Journey is not at all flu in teresting matteT to talk about,” she brought honor upon our name. Their went on. “Tell me about your- life pictures are not here;. They are not .smile parted her lips. In the bedroom here. It sounds most delightfully pas- worthy to be here.”; , - of this quaint farmhouse she Was. look- toral. Do you live here all the year - Stephen set down the-candlesticks ing upon a face and a figure which .the round 1" . and returned to his place. Louise, with . - -1. r - . . , .. .. open line, you really are almost as tall ns hnve -^explained that there is $o village neck, displaying a'beautifully rounded i *ou appeared! she added, a#.she stood or j 7in f nr u good'many miles.” throat. .Tier eyes dwelt upon the oval ll “ hv hU u,lw ' I, ‘‘ r ,h “ , "" t ,nv Louise turned graciously toward the face, with its strong, yet 'mobile fea- elder man, who waa standing grimly apart. Even in. those few seconds, her. quick sensibilities warned her of the K * Her eyes yet without curiosity, for‘tiny sign of a human dwelling.' Her chuuffeur and her Timid stood talking heatedly-to gether m-ar the radiator. Louise leaned forward and culled to the chauffeur. "Charles,” she asked, “what has hap pened? Are we really stranded here?” The man’s head emerged from the bonnet. He came round to the side of the ear. • "I am very sorry, madam,” he re ported, “but something has gone wrong with the magneto. I shall have to.take It to pieces before I can tell exactly what is wrong. It will take several hours and it ought to he done by day light. Perhaps I had better go‘and see whether there isn’t a farm somewhere near.” “And leave us here alone?” Aline ex claimed indignantly. Her mtftress smiled at her reassur ingly. “What have we to fear, you foolish girl? For myself, I would like better than anything to remain here until the moon comes over the top of that round hiLL-JBut listen! ..There Is no neces sity for Charles to leave us." They all turned their heads. From some distance behind there came, faintly at first, but more distinctly every moment,' the sound of horse’s hoofs. Louder und louder came the sound. Louise gave a little cry ns a man on horseback appeared In sight at the crest of the hill. The narrow strip of road seemed suddenly dwarfed, an unreasonable portion of the horizon blotted out. In the half light “there was something almost awesome in the unusual size pf the horse nnd of the man who rode It. “It is a world of goblins, this, Aline!" her mistress exclaimed softly. “What Is it that comes?” . “It is n human being. Dleu merel l”' the maid replied; with a mutter-of-fuct little sigh of content. . A few moments inter horse and rider wefe beside the car. “Hus anything happened?” the new comer asked, dismounting and raising his whip to his cap. “I have broken down," Louise said. “Please tell us What you would advise still the air of one embarked upon an adventure, the outcome of which was to be regarded with some qualms. She was of little more than medium height, and his first impressions of her were that she was thin, and too pale to be good-looking; that her eyes were large and soft, with eyebrows more clearly defined than, IsSnyial among English women; And that she moved without seeming to-walk. “I suppose I am tall,” he admitted, ;as they started off along the road. “One doesn’t notice It around here. My name is John Strangewey, and our house Is Just behind that clump of tries there, on the top of the hill. We will do our best to make you comfort able,” he added a little doubtfully; "but there are only my brother and myself, and we have no women serv ants in the house.” "A roof of any sort will be a luxury,” she assured him. “I only hope that we shall not be a trouble to you in any way.’” “And- your name, please?" he asked. She was a little amazed at his direct ness, but she answered him withouj hesitation. ‘ _ “My name,” she told him, “is Lou ise.". ’ ■ He leaned down toward her, a little puzzled. “Louise. But your surname?” She laughed softly. It occurred to him that nothing like her laugh had ever been heard on that gray-walled stretch of mountain road. “Never mind! I am traveling Incog nito; Who I am, or where I am going —well, what does that matter to any body? Perhaps I do not know myself. You can Imagine, If you like,-that we came from the heart of your hills, and that tomorrow they will open again and welcome us back.” “I don’t think there are any motor-i cars' in fairyland,” he objected. “We represent a new edition of fairy lore," she told him. “Modern romance, you know, includes motor-cars and even French maids.” “All the same,” he protested, With masculine bluntness, “I really don’t see how I can' Introduce you to my brother as ‘Louise from fairyland.’” . She evaded the point. “Tell me about your brother. Is he us to do. Is there a village near, or as tall as you, and Is he younger or an inn, or even'.a baru? Or shall wt- OMfr?” ✓ have to spend the night in the ear?" J “He Is nearly twenty years oJdtnC” “The nearest village,” he replied, *Ts. ; her companion replied. “HeJtSnbout twelve miles away. Fortunately, my j thy height, but he.stoops more -than I own home is close by. I shall be very do, and his hair Is gray.- I nrn nffnid that you inuy. fihd ’him a little pecu liar." : Her escort paused nnd swung open a white-gate on their left-hand side. Be fore them was.an ascent which seemed to her, in the dim light, to be abso lutely precipitous. • / “It isn’t so bad ns it« looks," he as sured her,- “and I ym afraid it’s the house Is at the bend" there, barely fifty yards away. You can- see, a light through the trees," . ‘ You .must help me, then, please,” she begged. / . \.He stooped down toward her. She kill tures; its lips a little full, perhaps, .bat soft and sensitive; at the masses of, brown hair drawn low over her ears. /This was herself, then. How would she seem to these two men downstairs, she asked herself—the dour, grim mas ter of the'house, nnd her more youthful /.rescuer, whose confing had somehow touched her fancy? They saw so little of her sex. They seemed, in a sense, to be In league against it. Would they find out that they were entertaining an angel unawares? She thought with a gratified smile ! of her incognito. It was a real trial of her strength, this! When she turned away from the mirror the smile stih lingered upon her lips, a soft light -of anticipation was shining in her eyes* John met her at the foot of the stairs. She noticed with some, sur- “But you go to London sometimes?” ; “Scarcely one,” he admitted. “I was there eight years ago. Since j “Not ’one,” Stephen interrupted, then I have not been further away than'1 ’ Madam,” lie, went on. turning toward Carlisle .'or Aendttl, I go into camp j Louise, “lest my welcome to- you-t-his ening should have seeme'd inhospita- nyttr .Kendal for three weeks every year—territorial training, you know.”” “But how do you pass your time? What do you do with yourself?” she asked. ; • • “Farm,”, he answered. “Farjnlng is our dally occupation. Then for amuse ment Ve hunt, shQot and fish.-The sea sons pass before we know’ it.” She looked appraisingly at John Strangewey. Notwithstanding his sun tanned cheeks and the splendid vigor of his form, there wavs nothing in the least agricultural about his manner or ids-appearrihe^. There was humor as well ns intelligence in his.'clear, gray •eyes. She opined that the books which lined one side of the room were at ohee liis property nnd his hobby. -eve •hie, let ’ me ..tell - you R'this: Every Strangewey who has left our county, and trodden the downward path of failure, has done so at the instance of one of your sex. That is why those of us who Inherit the family spirit look askance upon all strange women. That iq'why no woman is ever welcome with in this house.” Louise resumed her seat in the easy chair. am so sorry,”, she -murmureij, looking down at her slipper. “T could not help breaking down here, could 1?” "Nor could my brother fail to offer you the hospitality of this*Toof,” Ste- phen'ndmltted. ’“The Incident was un- fortunnte but inevitable. It is y mat ter for regret that .we have so little to “It is a very healthy life, no doubt,” prise that he was wearing the dinner- she said ; “but somehow it seems in- offer you in the Way of entertainment.” jacket and black tie of civilization. comprehensible to think of a man. like He rose to his feet. The. door ha yourself living always in such an out of-the-way corner.” “Will you come this way, please?" he begged. “Supper is quite ready." He held open the door of one of the •r^oins on the other *ide of the hall, and Stephen once more Intervened. opened. Jennings twas standing there . with a candlestick upon a massive sil- John’s lips were open to reply, but ver salver. Behind him^Wns. Aline ’ _ . UT* - -3. .. - - .W^ «« ■ Y'ou are doubtless rued by your ly closed lips and steel-gray eyes. Ills Lsmlle or word of greeting, Until she she passed into a tow dining room, dim- | “Life means a different thing to each journej, madam,^^&tephen concluded- ly lit with shaded lamps. The elder of us, madam," he said sternly; “There Louise n'nuh^arfittle grimace, but she ‘ to her feet. She under- te well that she was being bed. and she shivered a little _ she looked at the hour—barely ten o’clock. Yet it was all in keeping. From the doorway she looked back in to the room, in which nothing seemed brother rose from his chair as they on- are many born with the lust for cities r ? se at °J). - tered, although his salutation w'as and the crowded places in their hearts, even grimmer than his first welcome. | born with the desire to mingle with - _ . ' Tie was wearing a dress-coat of olfr .their fellows,..to absorb the convention^ HU iBow Was Stiff and Uncordial. ifashiomT eutr and a Black stock; and al, vices and virtues, to become o&3Mtf hostility which lurked behind the tight- remained' standing, without any the multitude. It has beeh different bow was stiff and uncordlal, and he made no movement to offer his hand. with us Strangeweys. r Jennings, at a sign froth his master, ^ have been touched for centuries. ipage. evidently stood upon ^he threshold to'bid her of their visitor. h Q al good-night, fully conscious of the tie, whose expression, at the entrance Throe* M tnllodemmed glasses wertKcomplete anachronism of her presence had taken her sent. Behind his chair stood a very ancient mahservlmt in a , removed the tea “We are not hsed to welcoming la- Kray pepper-and-salt’suit, with a white, : produced in h dies at Beak Hall, madam,” he said. Thpnfl “I am afraid that' you will find us sqmewhat unprepared for guests." “I ask for nothing more than a roof,” Louise assured him.. John threw /nis hat and whip upon of this unexpected guest, seemed cu*, placed riously to reflect the inhospitable In stincts of his master. The table was laid with all mann of cold dishes, supplemented by others the round tablfl nhd stood in the centerTupoh the sideboard. Tlierey*re pots of the stone floor. She caught, a j of jam and honey, a sih^Tcapot and glance which flasherhetween the two Tlver spoons and fopkS of quaint fle- men—of appeal from. the. one, of' icy sign. Strpngely cjiTglass, and a great resentment from the other. • “We can at-least add to the roof a bed and some supper—an4 a welcome,” John declared. . “Is that not so, Ste- in'Hjie table, and a decanter of pprf reverently produced. ouise had.fallen for a moment or two into a fit of abstraction. Her eyes were fixed upon -the opposite* wall, ere t, fler smile for Stephen was respectful lid fuILof dignity. ^ A and futkof dignity. x As she glanced to ward Ji>kn, however,, something flashed in.heKeves.-anil quivered at tho from which, out of their fa«h-d frauu-s, I uoruecs of her Itm. suu.oth.nu which u row oflrrim-loohlng men and women, •’I-- ur con roh^some ci,_ c startlingly like her two hosts, seemed Dresden bowTTHled with flowers. “I am uffaid,” John remarked, “that - you apemot used to dining at'this hour. MjKhrother and I iir/i old-fashioned In Tvur customs. If we had had a little longer notice—” ‘I riever in my life saw^anything (that looked so delicious as your cold during Ms life. phen?" y\ The older man turned deliberately away. It was as if he had notneard his brother’s words. “I will go and flmj Tennings,” he.,chicken,” Louise declared. “May I said. “He must be,told about the serv- -have some—and some ham?\ I believe ants.” lhat you must farm some land youf- Louise watched the disappearing fig- selves. Everything looks ns if it were ure untiFlt was out of sight. Then she ^homemade or homegrown.” keel up into looked up into the face of the younger Hian, who was standing By her side. “I am sorry,” she murmured apolo getically. “I am afraid that your brother is not "pjeased at this sudden intrusion. Really-, we shall give you very litltf 1 roubte.” T — - He answered her with a sudden eager enthusiasm. He seemed far more natural then than at any time since he had ridden up from out of the shad ows to take his place in Ijer.life. “I won’t apologize for Stephen,” he' said, “lie is a little crotchety. Y'ou must please be kind and not notice. You must let? me, ifil can, offer you welcome enough for us bath.” “iVe are certainly farmers,” John ad mitted. with a smile, "and I don’t think there is much here that, isn’t of our own production. The farm buildings are at some distance away from The hoqse. Th<-re to quite a, 111tie colony at the hack, and the woman who super intends the dairy lives there. In The to frown flown upon her. “Is that your-father?” she asked, moving her head towurd one of the portraits. ■ “My-granTf other,-John •Strangewey,” Stephen tohFher. } “Was he qne of the wanderers?" - "He. left Cumberland only twice He was master of hounds, magistrate,^colonel in the yeo manry. pf that period, and three times refused to stand for parliament,” “John Strafigewey!" Louise repeal ed softly to herself. “I was looking at your family tree upstairs,” she Went! on. “It is curious how both my maid ; and myself were struck with a sense of familiarity about ''the name, as if we had heard of read soim-thing about it quite lately.” - ' • . . - — Her words were nlmost carelessly made him grip for a moment the back of the chair against which lie stood. CHAPTER II. Louise, with a heavy, silver-plated candlestick In her hand, stood unonThe j come to. a~^min..jof our family from the linked her fingers together through his uneven floor of the bedroom to" which friendship or service of women. Our spoken,-but' she was conscious of the , house we are entirely independent of somewhat ominous silence which en- your sex. We manage, somehow or sued. $he glanced up wonderitigly other, with Jennings here and two,and intercepted a rapid look passing hoys.” . ’ between the two men. More puzzled .“You are not both'woman-haters, I than ever, she turned toward John as hope?” " if for au explanation. He had Tist>n Her younger host flushed a warning somewhat abruptly to his feet, and his glance at Louise, but It was too late, band was upon the buck of her chair. Stephen hnd laid down his kpife and : ‘"Will it.be disagreeable to yon if iay fork and was leanirtg in her direction. Brother smokes a pipe?” lie asked. “I “Madam,” he intervened, “since ,you tried to have our little drawing room have asked the question,, I will confess ! prepared for you, tyM the fire hus not that I have never known any good been lit for so long that the room, I am ' afraid,Ts quite Impossible.” - • lefh ariu and, leaning u little heavily she had been conducted, looking up at upon 'him, began the ascent. He was the onkjframed family tree which hung Conscious of some subtle frngomce n | )0 ve the. broad ehitnney-piece. She from hey clothes, a perfume strangely examined the coat of arms emblazoned different from-the odor of tin 4 ghost- in the Corner, and.peored curiously at. like flqwgys ~tha.t bordered the steep the last neatly-printed adtlMipm-wMeh- -sBght-frown ban-face.. “Need yQU ttt^Tdbaccb jar and pipe that his broth path up which they were climbing/ Ifei arms, sftglft, warm things thougli they were, v and ' great thougli his- own indicated Stephen and John Strange wey as the' sole survivors of. a dimin ishing line. When.at last she turned strength, felt suddenly like a yoke. At ! 'nway, she found the name upon her he seemed to feel their ' fe*. “You Are Indeed a Good Samaritan.” pleased—I nnd n^y brother—if you will every, step weight more insistent—a weight not physical, softffy due to this rush of un expected emotions. — \ •> •* She looked around her almost in lips. to know if, would amply justify my' l/rotlu-r and niyscIf ..f.oF.jjuf a-tUtude to ward your sex.” ‘‘Stephen!” John remonstrated, a “Do let me stay li^re with you,” she “Those of Us Who Inherit the Family Spirit Look Askance Upon All Strange Women.” Then, between the old mnnservant, who insisted upon carrying her candle to her room, and her maid, who walked family history, if ever you should come'(BFgfl'ed/“and I hope that both of you ^behind, she crossed the white stone.,. will, smoke. l am quite used to it.” John wheeled up an easy chair for her. Stephen, stiff and upright, sat ou tlie other side of the hearth. He took hall and stepped slo.vly up The' broad flight of .stairs. x ’ weary our guest with your peculiar : er hnd-brought him, and slowly .filled views? It is scarcely'polite, to say tbe^ythe-Jmwl. “With your permission, then, ma dam,” he.said, us lie struck a match. Louise smiled graciously. Some in- what an unusual-looking person! Do you, think, Aline, that, you ever saw wonder as her companion paused with honor us. I am afraid I cannot offgr bis hand upon a littleTri>n gate. From you very much in the way of entertajn- i>eliind that jagged stretch of hills in ( anyone so superbly handsome?” ment—” \ . ■ the distance the; boon bad now ap-; The maid’s little grimace wi She i*ose briskly to Jier feet and peared. Before her was a garden, presslve. austere-looking with its prlin flBwer- least of it.” The older man sat. for- a moment, grim nnd silent., i/ - “Strangewey!” she murmured. “John Strangewey! It is really Curious how that name brings with If* a sense of t ~. w , v fainlllarlty. It is so unusuril, too. And know that she is the first woman who the time her eyes were wandering '“I’eriiaVs you an* rightybrother,” he :- s tirict prompted her to stifle her own-, admitted. “This lady did not seek our craving for a cigarette and keep her company, but it may interest her to. little gol4 case hidden, in..her pocket- Louise has quite an Interesting little chat with John before she resumes her journey, and in his mind is awakened something that’hasn’t been istlrred for a, very long time, ~ ~ — :C as -£X? beamed upon him. “You are indeed a good Samaritan!” she exclaimed. “A roof is more than we had dared to hope for, although when one looks up at this* wonderful dry and breathes this air, one wonders* perhaps, whether a roof, after all* Is such a blessing.” '■ “It gets very cold toward morning,” the young man said practically. “Of course,” she assented. “Aline, yon will bring fay Tressing-bag and fol low ns. This gentleman Is kind enough os shelter for the night Dear “Never, madam,” she replied. “And has crossed the threshold of Peak Hall found the room. Suddenly she rose for a' matter of six years.” ' and, moving round the table, stood Louise looked from one to the other, once more facing the row of gloomy- half incredulously. • [looking portraits. “So-that-is your grandfather?” she Beds, the ,trees all bent in the saide^Tyet to think of It—a gentleman, a per; “Absolutely,” the young man 51 aS^'pter. “Is your father not here? direction, fashioned after one pattern son .of intelligence, who lives here af- “Do you really moan it? Is that lit erally true?” she asked John, remarked to John, wuo had followed **T c by the winds. Beyond was the house -*-a long, low building, part of it cov ered with srmaeririntfr-of ereeper:—- - As they stepped.across the last few yards of lawn, the r black, oak door whjch they were approaching suddenly opened. A tall, elderly man stood look ing Inquiringly out He shaded ills eyes with his hand* '‘x. “Is that you, brother?” he asked doubtfully ways, outside the world, with just a terrible old man servant, the only do mestic m th# ttouser“ N#6YtjrkiL ttrr cooking Is. done at the bailiff’s, a quar ter of a mile away.” . Louise nodded thoughtfully. 1 “It is, very strangq,” she admitted. “I should like to understand it, Per-, haps,” she added, half to hferself, “i and on -sured her; “but please remember that you are none* the less heartily welcome here. We Bave few women* neighbors^ and Intercou^lm’ WltB* 1 tBem seems to havo slipped out ofTour ffvcs. /TTell me, how far hpm youj come today, and where Jjidyou hope tp sleep tonight?” hesitated for a moment. For >me reason or other, the question lng the motoring from Edinburgh. He shook his head. “My. father’s portrait was never painted.” (TO LfE CONTINUED-,> “ranse 'ffoW'John,'- joined, rising ip his place and setting down his pipe. . “We Strangeweys thej^rd?” Her Memory Faulty. She was middle-aged, stylishly gowned, und apparently sane.’ And she was Tooking at- the paintings in t^o Coreeran Gallery ? of Art throirgh a gold-framed lorgnette, that dangled from nJeweled gold chain. Another woman was standing before A'canvus, and, in a desire fpr Informa tion, or, perhaps, for the sake of social ■ } Interchange, thn iady nf thft lerftnritv Inquired, affably: Is that a pictufh of the death of A - were hfllfolk and farmersrby descent and, destiny, for more than four hun dred years. Otfr place is here upon seemed to bring with It some disturb- the iand, almost among the c)Ouds, and tboae of us^Who have realised it have led the Uvea God meant us to lefd. ‘‘‘No, madam; It represents .the majr* tyrdora of St. Se^stfan.” “Ah, I see. I have the poorest mem- ^ dry. * I knew that they killed tba Lord, of course^ bi\t I djsremembered Just how.”—Washington Star,’