Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 January 1900 — AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.

CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued.) Towards evening the weather improved considerably; the wind abating, the clouds banking themselves up into heavy masses overbend; while along the western skies there were silver rifts that seemed slowly nnd steadily widening. Indeed, the heavy darkness overhead made that white glory in the west all the more vivid and alluring; and when at length, through some sudden parting of the clouds, a flood of sunlight swept across the cornfields and the hedges and the daisied meadows, the effect was quite bewildering. The evening drew on apace, but momentarily it became more beautiful. It really seemed as if we had come out from under those lurid storm clouds into a region of mellow radiance and perpetual calm. The still surface of the canal was a golden pathway before us; overhead such spaces of the sky as were now dear were of a pale blue, just touched here and there with a flake of saffron doud. Of course, this brilliancy could not last. Slowly the wild fires in the west paled down. As we drew near to Radford Simele there was a wan twilight on the water, and as we stole through the outskirts of Leamington Prion the windows and lamps gleamed orange through the gathering gray dusk. Late that night Mrs. Threepenny-bit happened to bethink her of putting postage stamps on the letters that had occupied her in the afternoon; and while doing so she pushed one of the envelopes across the little table to Miss Peggy. “There, Peggy, do you see to whom I have been writing?” The young lady took up the letter and read the address: “To Colonel Sir Ewen Cameron, V. C., K. C. 8., Aldershot Camp, Hampshire.” But with regard to the contents of the letter the astute small person chose to hold her peace. CHAPTER VIII. “Your servant, colonel!” says a tall and slim young lady, as she appears at the door of the saloon and makes a very fair imitation of a military salute. But if Mrs. Threepenny-bit—or Colonel Anne, as she is supposed to be—has any wish to check the young person's impertinence, it so happens that she has just had the means placed %t her disposal. "Look here, Peggy,” she says, “Mr. Duncombe has been over to the town, and was kind enough to ask for letters. This ono is for you; and the postmark is Oxford.” “Oh, thank you,’* Miss Peggy s&ys to the young man; “I’m sure I never should have thought of asking for letters at .Warwick.” “But, Peggy,” says Mrs. Threepennybit, “the postmark is Oxford; what friends have you in Oxford?” “It may be a bill,” she says, carelessly, as she takes the envelope in her hand and proceeds to open it. “Oh, no, it’s from Mr. A'Becket.” She ran her eye over the two or three pages in a negligent fashion. “Oh, he can’t get away at present. Did I tell you he spoke of coming over to Warwick to see how we were getting along? And—and there are some inscriptions in a church in Bath that we are to look at. Then there are kind regards and remembrances to everybody. That’s all.” Now, Miss Peggy was in the highest of spirits, and as we walked along the pleasant country road toward the town, she appeared to have taken, leave of her senses altogether. Perhaps the unaccustomed sunlight had got into her brain; perhaps she was enjoying a fierce delight in her release from the strict surveillance that hemmed her in on board the "Nameless Barge;” at all events, a dafter lassie could not that morning have been found within the shores of these three islands. “I say,” she asks, just as if this suddenly confidential appeal wore the most natural thing in the world, “what is the matter with Mr. Duncombe?” “You, most likely.” “What do you mean?” *“Well, he may have been forming exalted ideas of the feminine character. Young men are soft-headed enough to do i that sometimes, you know. And then he may have seen n young lady unblushingly open a letter—yes, and read the contents aloud, too—a letter from a mid-dle-aged Oxford don whom she has bamboosled out of his senses. He may have been shocked by such a display of callousness.” “Oh, nothing of the sort. Don’t you make any mistake,” says Miss Peggy, with decision. “There is something troubling him—something serious. What do you think now about that letter last night?” she continues. “Do you think Queen Tita has asked Col. Cameron to come and sail with us for a bit?” “More likely she has written to tell him we shall be returning through the southern counties, and asking him if he would care to ride over from Aidershot, when we are at some near point, and lunch with us.” "What is Col. Cameron like?” “When you see him, you will probably call him a long, red-headed Scotchman.” "Rather blunt and overbearing, is he?” "Overbearing! He comes of the same stock as ‘the gentle LochieL* ” “And yet the Camerons are a fighting race, aren’t they?” “Oh, yes, they have done a little in that way, now and again, during the past century or two.” “I should like to see him,” she says, simply; and then her attention is claimed by the buildings of the town of Warwick, which lies before us. ' When we got back to the hotel the equanimity of our small party received an unexpected shock. We had discovered that the Avon is not navigable between Stratford and Tewkesbury; and so we had resolved to get around to the Bevern by the Warwick and Birmingham Canal. Meanwhile we could car'

tainly get by canal as far as Stratford; but as we should have to turn back there it was proposed, in order to avoid going over this part of the route twice, to send on the “Nameless Barge” under care of Captain Columbus, while we should run through to Stratford by rail. What was our astonishment to hear Jack Duncombe calmly say to his hostess: “I am afraid, if it comes to that, I must ask you to leave me out. I—l am very sorry, but I fear I shall have to go back to town. Of course, it isn’t like breaking up the party; you can easily get someone to take my place. I assure you I am sorry enough to go, for the trip so far has been most delightful; and you will soon be getting to even more interesting districts; but I think—yes, I think it will be safer if you count me out.” For a second there was an awkward silence; Mrs. Threepenny-bit seemed afraid to ask him the reason for this sudden resolve. “I hope It is nothing serious?” she ventured to say, however. “Oh, no, I think not,” he said, evasively; and then he added; “I should fancy you would find it all plain sailing now until you get to the Severn; and then you’ll want a steam tug or something of the kind to take you down to Bristol.” * He was talking in quite a m’atter offset fashion; but he seemed depressed a little. Then, when luncheon was over, he said he would walk along to the telegraph office, and join us subsequently at the castle, whither we were shortly bound. At the same moment Miss Peggy went away to her own room, to fetch her guide books; and the instant she had shut the door behind her Queen Tita was free to express her astonishment and her suspicions. “Now really do you think that wretch has been at her tricks again?” she demands. “What wretch? What tricks?” “Why, what should he be going away for so suddenly if he hadn't quarreled with her?” she says. “Surely he can’t be so hard hit that he must needs be mightily offended because she has been amusing herself a little with Mr. A’Bccket, and getting n letter or two?” “You don’t imagine he is such a fool? What could it matter to him her getting twenty dozen letters from Mr. A’Becket?” “Oh, you don't know. She is pretty clever at leading people on, even when she pretends to be most innocent. However, if he wishes to go, I suppose we must let him go. And it would be such a chance to get Col. Cameron to come alone." When we got back to our hotel after having rummaged through one or two bric-a-brac shops, that are well known to lovers of useless furniture and cracked plates, we found a telegram tying on the trble addressed to our young playwright. He took it up and opened the envelope. « “Yes,” he said, “it is as I feared. I must go back to town to-morrow.” That game night was to be the last that our little party, as hitherto constituted, was to assemble together; and at the modest banquet that was meant to console us for our lack of dinner the two women folk were unmistakably inclined to be complaisant to the young man. His hostess was very kind to him, and nut only renewed her expressions of regret at his going, but once more urged his return W'heh that might be practicable for him. “Oh, I shall be glad enough to get back if I can,” said he—which he hardly would have said had he been going away in resentment of Miss Peggy’s conduct; and now he was affecting to be more cheerful, though he was not in a very gay mood, we could see. “At all events, Mr. Duncombe,” Peggy says to him, “we shall hope to find you with us again soon and to have the benefit of your advice. I am sure we can’t • say how indebted we are to you for your help in getting us along as far as we have got.” Soon thereafter—for it had been a long and busy day—there was a general departure for our respective quarters; nnd the Warwick Arms subsided into the general silence that lay over the sleeping town. CHAPTER IX. There was a welcome bustle of prepar ation, for the boat had been successfully brought along to Stratford and had now to be provisioned for the resumption of our voyage; likewise we had to write our last letters before bidding good-by, to civilization and once more disappearing into the unknown. In the midst of al) this Miss Peggy appears, just a little breathless. “Say, now. what is your friend like?” she asks, with some eagerness. “What friend?” says Queen Tita. “Why. Col. Cameron, of course. Is he very tall, and thin, and sandy-haired; with a small mustache, that has a streak of gray in it; and blue-gray eyes that look at you—well, as if they hod seen you before?” “Yes, that is rather like him. But what do you meari; Peggy? He isn’t come already, is he?" “Well, it can’t be he, either,” she continues. “He wouldn’t think of going boating in a costume like that—a frockcoat, and a tall hat, yellow gloves, patent leather boots. Well, if it is your friend, he looks as if he had just stepped out of Pall Mall.” “But where did you see him?” “Whoever he is, he is down below, in the hall. “In this hotel?” “Yea; and—and he looked at me as I passed him as if he thought I might belong to your party.” "Of course it is Col. Cameron!” Mrs. Threepenny-bit exclaims at once. “Go away down and ask him to come up, Peggy.” “Me?” says the girl, in some alarm. “Oh, I couldn’t. I don't know him. There might be a mistake.” “Well, I suppose I must go myself,” she says, putting back her chair; and therewith she leaves the room and proceeds downstairs to receive her new Visitor. “I say," observes Miss Peggy, with

some disappointment, “if that Is CoL Cameron, he isn’t like a soldier at all. He is just like one of those icicled creatures you see walking in St. James’ street, stiff and starched and polished to the very finger tips and the toes, and looking at you with a cold, blank stars of indifference. “Do you know this. Miss Peggy, that if you only got a glimpse of him as you came by, you managed to bring away a pretty faithful portrait." There were voices without; the next moment Queen Tita appeared, followed by a tall, thin, sun-tanned person who carried his hat in one hand and his umbrella in the other. When he was introduced to Miss Peggy, his eyes rested on her for a second with a kindly look, as if there had already been some slight acquaintance between them; no doubt he had guessed that she was of our party when she had passed him below. Then he sat down and proceeded to explain that he had received our manageress’s telegram in London only the night before, and had come straight away down the first thing in the morning to see what was wanted of him. “You know, Sir Ewen,” said Mrs. Threepenny-bit, with much cheerfulness, “I cannot let you come with us unless you quite understand all the provisions you will have to put up with. Don’t you think you ought to go and see the boat; then you would know a little better What to expect.” “But I heard all about your project before you started,” said he, with a kind of gentle persuasiveness, “and I envied you. I never thought I was to be so fortunate as to be asked to join you; and now that I am here, I think your difficulty will be to get rid of me. If you don’t mind, I think, I will go out and see if I can pick up a few boating things. I suppose in a riverside place one may find what one wants. And which did you say was the next town you would come to?” “Worcester." “Then I will telegraph to Aidershot when I am out. I suppose I shall find you here when I come back.” The moment he had gone Mrs. Three-penny-bit turned to her young friend“Well?” she said, with a kind of pride. But Miss Peggy answered nothing. “Well?” she said again. “What do you think of him; Peggy?” “Of coutse I don’t know yet,” said the young lady, evasively. “I thought he would look more like a soldier; he is like —like any body else.” v “Did yon expect to find him wearing his Victoria Cross? Of course he came away just as he was. It is a soldier’s pride to be able to start at a moment’s notice.” It was near midday when we vjere ready to start; but when we did get away our departure was most auspicious. There was a kind of general elation in setting forth; and then everything looked cheerful in the welcome sunlight; nnd there were warm, sweet airs blowing about; all promised well. Our colonel had greatly pleased his hostess with his praises of the arrangements on board; he was delighted with everything, and especially surprised that he could stand upright in the saloon. Then Captain Columbus bad been duly complimented on big success in bringing the boat through; and Murdoch, who was at first rather overcome with awe on hearing the name of onr new guest, had been driven out <jf his senses with pride and gratification when Inverfask was considerate enough to address a few words to him in his native tongue; and finally, at the very last moment, a messenger had come running down to the canal side with a parcel, for which Miss Peggy had been anxiously inquiring ever since she came to Stratford. “And what is that, Peggy?” asks her hostess, looking at the long thing that has just been handed into the boat. “Guess.” “Some magical kind of Sunshade, is it?” “No; it’s a fishing-rod—an American one; 1 sent for it a long time ago, and have been wondering whether it was ever going to arrive. They say our American rods are very good; I hope this one will turn out all right.’’ // “And since when have you taken to fishing, Peggy?” she asks. “Oh, it isn't for myself; it’s for him,” the young lady answers, indicating a not uninterested bystander. “Oh, it’s for him, is it? Well, he can't wear that at his watch chain!” says Mrs. Spitfire; and therewith she withdraws into the saloon, to beg Col. Cameron not to bother any more with those Ordnance Survey maps. iTo be continued.)