Weaker than a Woman — page 23: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i4 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. CHAPTER ITI. ‘Tl HAVE NOT QUITE PROMISED.”’’ It was a glorious afternoon. The country about Lilford was beautiful in the extreme, with lovely undulating meadows, great chain‘of green hills that stretched into the far distance, dark shady woods with some of the finest trees in England, lovely green lanes where wild flowers raised their bright heads. The town itself was quaint and picturesque; the pretty old-fashioned houses were almost buried in foliage. The one long main street of the town— Castle street—might have been a Parisian boulevard, it was so regularly planted with trees. This afternoon seemed to Felix Lonsdale one of the finest that he ever remembered. He walked through the clover meadows, his heart singing for joy, snatches of song rising to his lips. The hedges were all pink and white with haw- _ thorn,long sprays of woodbine twined round the rugged trunks of the tall trees, the clover was thick and odorous. He crossed the path at the end of Oakwoods, where he saw most glorious vistas of light and shade, entered a long green lane, and then he reached the fair green fields that led to the Limes, the home of his love. Presently he saw Violet Haye. He gazed at her in mute wonder that earth should hold anything so fair. She car- ried a little basket filled with flowers, and on her golden head she wore a simple garden hat. Her dress seemed to him a wonderful combination of white and blue. A feeling of humility came over him—who was he that he should hope to win this brilliant young beauty and make her his own? Then his pride reasserted itself; his love ennobled him; he could hope to win her because he loved her so dearly. Violet did not see him. She was walking in the other direction, and he hastened after her. It was no wonder that he loved her; the smiles with which she greeted him would have turned many a wiser brain than his. ‘Felix,’’she cried, ‘I did not fase of seeing you.” “And seeing you, Violet, is like a dream,’’ he replied, “and after I have left you I ‘think of a hundred things that I wanted to say to you, and meant to say, and yet forgot.’’ “That proves that you have a bad memory, Felix,” comicbooks col