Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 March 1900 — AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.

CHAPTEH XXL

Yes, they were all at it again—the linnet and robin; the inavts and merle; the cnekoo telling us of his whereabouts in the heart or the thicket! the larks filling ail the wide spaces of the Bky with their silver song. But for this universal twittering, and clear caroling, arid fluttering of wing*, the world was still enough and silent enough, 'file red kitie hardly moved in the meadows golden with buttercups, The olive-green masses of the elms, rising far into the pale blue of the heavens, did not stir a leaf. The warm sunlight seemed to draw forth I a hundred scents from herbs ahd flowers, that hung in the motionless air. As one is idly gazing at all these things, and speculating us to how far a certain white butterfly, that has started early on his travels, will wander before, the heat of noon causes him to close his wings on u head of clover, there is a quiet stirring.of the willow branches, and then 1 a footfall on thp gang board connecting the boat with too shore. Turning forthwith one finds that it is Miss Peggy who has come down through those yellowed meadows, and it is Sir Ewen Cameron who is steadying the plank for her. She has been abroad thus early to gather flowers for the breakfast table, and in each hand she has a great cluster of buttercups. As for the June roses in her cheeks, where did she get them oa so extremely still a morning? And as for the speedwell bine of her eyes—But she passes hastily into the saloon, for the flower glasses have to be filled. Then this long, sandy-haired Highland officer— has he anything to sayY He observes that the morning is beautiful—which is no secret. He thinks he saw a trout rise a little bit further along. Presently he puts this question: “Shall you have any need of Murdoch’s services this autumn?’’. “I fear not.” "He is an exceedingly haud.v fellow—don’t you think so?” "I do.” “And very willing, isn’t he?” “He is." “Well, now, don’t you consider that a young fellow like that would be better in a settled situation than in doing odd jobs about Tobermory, with an occasional month or two’s yachting in the summer?” “I dare say he would—if it was anything of a situation.” "Ho you think he would come to me at laverfask?” “Inverfask?” , “Yes. I would give him a fair wage; he would have employment all the year round, and he might look forward to some Increase of pay if he deserved it.” “A permaneut place at Inverfask—is that what you mean?” “Yes." “Welt, when you put that offer before him, Murdoch will be a proud lad.” “And you arc sure you don’t want hitn this autumn?” “Almost certain—besides, that could not' be allowed to interfere.” “I will go and ask him ut once,” said he: and he, too, disappeared into the suloou. Well, now, the “Nameless Barge” seemed to be just filled with secrets and mysteries on this busy morning; but of course one had no time to pay heed to sach trumpery things, for we had to make an early start in order to get through the chain of locks outside Devizes. After leaving Devizes there are fifteen unites of plain sailing without the interruption of a single lock, so that we made good progress this afternoon. The canal, which is here so little used that it abounds with ail kinds of water plants—the white buttercup conspicuous among them—winds along a high plateau which affords extensive views over the neighboring landscape. Not that we saw this somewhat lonely stretch of country under most favorable conditions. As we stole along by Bishops Cannings and Ail Caunings and Stanton Fitzwarren the still air ueemed to be threatening thunder; the skies were of a cloudy milkywhite, and the hills that rose to the horizon line both on north and south—Boughbridge Hill, Easton Hill, St. Ann’s Hill, Etchilhampton Hill, Wivelsford Hill and the like —were slowly deepening in gloom. Then came rain, and forthwith these idle people fled into the saloon, to books and writing, and tea and what not. All but the faithful Peggy, that is to say I Miss Baggy not only went and fetched the steersman his waterproof, but she also brought out her own; and, having drawn the hood over her pretty brown hair and fastened it securely under her chin, ahe took up her position on the steeringthwart. Was she still anxious, then, to •how her gratitude, inT some vague, tentative way? At all events, her companionship on this somber afternoon was sufficiently welcome. But one soon began to discover what had brought Miss Peggy out' into the rata; her remarks about the weather were speedily over. “Has Col. Cameron," she asks, presently, with a very becoming hesitation, “has Coi. Cameron said anything—anytbtaf particular, to you?” "Nothing very particular." , “No, I suppose not," she continues, uatth the pretty hesitation. “I had to dak turn not to say anything, because —became I don't wish Mr. Duncombe to know. But you ought to know; yes, you to know ** you .think I don’t know?” “And this is the way they keep a young lady’s secret!—making It as plain as the nose on a nun’s face or a weathercock on a steeple. And you are especially anxious jbo‘conceal it from Jaab Duncombe, am you? Don* you think U possible Mr. Duncombe may have his own little affair* to attend to? Well, well, you’ve done It at hut, I suppose; gad it's very Mule you know of the fate you ate making upon—you poor, fluttering, timid, sol-

Itary creature. Banishment to the regions of perpetual Ice—that is a pretty future for you. Think of the gales howling down from the North Bea—the glens blocked up with snow—no communication with the rest of the wordl—the rivers and lakes hard frozen— hail changing to sleet, and sleet changing to hail—a Polar bear prowling round the riofts—a walrus——” “And a carpeoter—you mustn’t forget the carpenter," said this young lady, who isn’t as easily frightened as you might imagine. “Does he wear his decorations when he goes to a levee at Buckingham Palace T “Haven’t the least idea.” “The! Victoria Cross, anyway. He must wear the Victoria Cross at nay state ceremony where the queen is present, surely? Is it true that when the queen presents the Victoria Cross to any one, she pins it on his breast wkh her own hands?" “I believe so.” “I should like to sc* that done,” she observed, absently. There was a long-protracted ramble, and the curiosity of our young American friend about everything relating to the the modes of life there proved to be quite insatiable, just as it was simple, honest and ingenuous. When we got back to the boat the dusk had come down, and all the little red windows were aglow; but Mrs. Threepenny-bit did not go on board; Col. Cameron did; and we guessed that she had sent him to summon Mr. Duncombe away from his books. “Your servant, colonel!" says Miss Peggy, as we come up. “What do you mean?” the smaller wotner woman answers. “Have yon changed services, Peggy? You’ve been a sailor all the way through; are you goiug to leave the navy for the army?” “Yes,” says Miss Peggy, lightly. “1 have enlisted. And what’s more, I've got my marching orders.” “Where for?" This tall young recruit brings up the palm of her hand to her forehead, and makes a very fair imitation of a military salute. "For Inverfask, colonel,” she says, and the night conceals the laughing shyness of her cheeks.

CHAPTEH XXII. Early on this fair morning the welcome sunlight is all around as, touching here and there on the ted roofs half bidden among the willows and elms, making the old-fashioned inn and the ivied bridge quite picturesque, and striking into the clear water so that we can see shoals of small fish darting this way and that over the beds of green weed. And here is Miss Peggy herself, as radiant as the dawn, her eyes shining and without malice; a placid content upon her tranquil lips. “So this is the last day of our voyage?” she says. “The last full day. We shall leave a few miles to do to-morrow, so as to get into Beading about noon.” “When one looks back,” she says, rather pensively, “all those places we have seen appear to be very far away how. Doesn’t it seem ages since we saw Windsor Castle, with the royal standard high up in the pale blue sky ? Do you remember the fearful rain at Oxford, and the floods?” “And Mr. A’Beeket? yes. Tell me, did you ever answer the letter he was so kind as to send yon about the antiquities of Gloucester?” “Well, I did not,” she says, hastily. “Don’t you think yottr wife will do that for me? She ought. The information was for the whole party.” At breakfast there was clearly a foreshadowing of the end; for already these good people were beginning to talk of the chief impressions produced by this long water-ramble of ours. Miss Peggy’s fixed ideas seemed to be the remoteness and the silence of those solitudes through which we had passed, and the profusion of wild flowers. Mrs. Threepenny bit, on the other hand, had some fancy that in these rural wanderings you got to understand something of the hold that the Church of England has on the national mind, the prominence of it even in the landscape—the small, venerable, strong, square-towered building dominating the tiniest village, the great cathedral the principal feature and the proudest possession of the town. As we glided along through the haw-thorn-scented air onr chief difficulty was to tell whether we were on a river or a canal, for the Kennet and Avon canal and the river Kennet intertwist themselves in a remarkable manner and seem to have all their chief characteristics in common.

About midday we came in sight of Newbury, the pink house* of which looked very pleasant among the golden meadows and the various greens of poplar and maple. We bad a delightful stroll in the afternoon along the banks of the winding waterway that is sometimes the canal and sometimes the Kennet, and sometimes both combined. That night was our last on board, and yet it cannot be said we were a particularly mournful company. To-morrow we should be back in the Thames again, at Reading. Should we take her down to Kingston, whence we had started, and find her quarters there? Or should we send her np the river to Henley, with a view to the forthcoming regatta? M I will settle that matter for yon,” said Col. Cameron, as we sat at dinner. “Or rather I have settled it for yon. lam going to buy this boat.” “Really?” says one of us, who seems to think he might have been consulted. “I will explain,” says this tall Highlander, with great equanimity, “dost below the belt of wood at Inverfask there is a quiet little bay, very fairly protected by rocks—ln fact, dose to the shore it is perfectly I propose to anchor a buoy some way out, and have a wire rope connecting it with the land; then, you perceive, by means of a traveler, yon could run this boat along whenever yon wished, and you would be out at sea safe and secure—* small floating home that would be very convenient for a hundred things. You might want As

give year visitor* afternoon tea. Or yog might have a little dinner party in the saloon, for the fua of the thing. 1 have seemed Murdoch: be will be captain, cook and steward. Or yon aught be quite hg yourselves; and if it was a hot evening, aad the midge* troubling yon oa shore, you just step on board, and haul yon metres oat to ten. Or, again, supposing Mr. Duncombe were coming round that way—l hope he will—and wanted a quiet day’s work done, worJdn’t that be a secure retreat for him? There could be no better isolation, sorely, or more perfect silence. That would be a place to writer “It sound* tempting, certainty.” young Shakspeare made answer, perhaps with mistral visions or not absolute isolation floating before his mind. “Of course yon won Id hare to ask per- • mission.” Inverfask continued, “and not from me. It is not for myself I propose to make the purchase. It is to be a little present.” * * Why was it that all this time oar pretty Peggy had been sitting- with eyes downcast? Did she know of this sodacions scheme; and could it concern her in | any way? “Then,” said be, “when I have got possession of the boot—then she will no longer be known ax the ’Nameless Barge.’ Oh, no; when she is at her new moorings in the North wc mast find a proper name for her.” He looked across the table and Peggy’s eyes were still downcast. “And do you know what I propose to call her? Well, I hare been thinking I could not do better than call her Rosalind’s Bower.” tThe cad.)