Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 May 1905 — ADAM AND EVE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ADAM AND EVE

By Otho B. Senga

Adam—Adam Peyton Randolph lay stretched at full length under a dwarf pine tree. He was big and blond and good to look at He sang "Oh, Maryland, My Maryland!” in a heavy bass which was not at all musical and then laughed at his own failure. “I reckon I wasn’t around when singing voices were being distributed,” he said aloud, “but this certainly is paradise—an Eveless paradise! And that’s what makes it paradise! How a woman would spoil all this! I hope the new owner of Sunny Slope doesn’t intend to live there.” He turned over lazily and lay on his chest supporting his chin in his hand and gazing off toward the blue Chesapeake, from which the breeze brought the bracing saltiness of the inland sea. His Eve was coming, but of this he was blissfully unaware. She sauntered up the avenue of pines, looking delightedly about her. “A perfect paradise!” she murmured. "I wonder if my land ends with my driveway, or does it extend to that one over there.” She pushed her way between the rosebushes and entered the debated territory, wandering aimlessly along, singing softly and caressing the rose she had plucked in passing. At an unexpected turn she almost stumbled over the long, sprawling legs of Adam Peyton Randolph. “Oh, pardon me!” she gasped in confusion. “I did not know”— And then, summoning the courage of possible possession, she demanded, “Doesn’t this strip of land belong to Sunny Slope?” “No, madam,” replied the recumbent one gravely. “It belongs to Peyton’s paradise.” She laughed gayly and looked about her. “So this really is paradise, is it? Andgyhere are Adam and Eve?” “There is no Eve, madam. Adam is the owner of the place—Adam Peyton Randolph.” “Oh, yes, I know. He is the horrid, cantankegpus old thing who was so determined I should not buy Sunny Slope. My agent told me how this old

miser kept bidding and bidding until I had to pay twice what the place is worth." The “old miser" sat up with sudden Interest. “Oh, then you are Miss Endicott? 1 am so glad! I feared It was a northerner who had bought the dear old place.” “What possible difference could that make?'’ curiously. “Oh, a great deal," vaguely. “I do not want them here,” "May I ask," with sudden hauteur, “why it should Interest you?" “Because—well," rising and holding out a big hand cordially, “because, Miss Endicott, I am the ‘horrid, cantankerous old thing,’ Adam Peyton llandolph, at your service, and I confess to a decided preference for southern women. I hope we shall be friends." She put her slender hand in his demurely. “I am very sorry,” with pretense of contrition, “but, you see, I couldn't help being born in Massachusetts.” “A thousand pardons, Miss Endicott, I beg. Your name should have warned me, but you look so like a southern woman!" “I consider that a compliment,” smiling. “You may well. The southern women are the most beautiful under the sun, and I repeat that you look a true southerner." The gravity of his manner saved the remark from the slightest flavor of Impertinence, and the girl smiled brightly. “And am I forgiven for being a northerner and for buying Sunny Slope?" He smiled In friendly fashion, but his tone was very serious as he replied: “I am sorry I made It bard for you; but, you see, I really wanted the place. It once belonged to my father. I was born there. Under pressure of circumstances he sold that, as my mother preferred to keep Peyton’s'paradise, where she was born. My mother was a Peyton,” he added proudly. The girl seemed troubled, and It was several seconds before she spoke. “I can’t help being glad that I succeeded In buying the place, but I am

sorry you failed. I realize that it must be very dear to you.” “You had more money than I or you couldn’t have bought it,” he said, trying to speak lightly. “However, I thank you for your considerate thought Let us be friends anyway, and i>erhaps you will let me come often to my birthplace.” “You shall play it is yours,” cordially, “as the children do—they are so happy ‘making believe,’ you know. And will you let me come Into your paradise once in awhile? Your roses are finer than mine.” , “There is a path leading from your garden Into minp. Come, let me show It to you. There, this little gate at my end of the path shall be securely fasteped back, so,” fastening it as he spoke. “And now, whenever you choose,” with a sudden, strange tenderness ig bis tone, “you shall enter into paradise.” . Three months later Adam stood at the gate of paradise bitterly despondent and unavailingly regretful. There had been a sudden growth of friendship during tue long, bright summer and a leap into love. Then had come the tempter in the guise of a rich and suavely spoken senator from the north, and Adam’s heart had been sore beset with jealous rage. Mot with southern anger, he had accused the girl of trifling with him, of making him the sport of her summer pastime when she had no heart to give him. She had stood, straight and tall and white, looking in her clinging white gown like his boyhood’s idea of a ghost. Then she spoke, and her voice was cold and touched Adam’s heated imagination like sharpened icicles. “I should certainly never give any man something for which he had not asked.” And, turning, she had disappeared down the path leading away from paradise. Man-like, it was hours before Adam realized the true meaning of her words. Then he had hastened to Bunny Slope. “Miss Eve done gone,” the old mammy had said. “Iler ’n’ Massa Pratt done gone together. No, Miss Eve nebber said as when she’d come back.” He had wandered through the beautiful grounds of paradise, visiting the “Rosary,” where he had fostered and trained the most glorious beauties that Eve might have her choice each day of the glad, sweet summer, realizing with a sharp pang that the whole place seemed to share in the loneliness that possessed his heart. Without Eve paradise itself were desolation. Now In the soft twilight he stood at the garden gate looking toward the dim old mansion half bidden in the pines at Sunny Slope. He caught a glimpse of a light in her window. Mammy was likely putting the room to rights. _ “Oh, Eve!” he cried, stretching out his arms toward the faintly gleaming light. “Eve, darling, how could I be so blind and so unjust when I love you so—l love you so?” A quick, light step sounded on the garden path, and a slender, white clad figure rushed wildly toward him. “Adam, oh, Adam!” she panted. “I tried to go away, but I couldn’t Am I too late, Adam? Is the gate closed to paradise?” And he held her in bls strong arms, w’hispering tenderly: “It could never be too late, Eve. We will go together into paradise.”

“OH, PABDON ME!” SHE GASPED IN CONFUSION.