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CHARLES CLARK MUNN
Copyright, 1000, by I.<o & Shepiurd
The long ride In tue crisp sea n'tr
following the scanty railroad lunch had
given hlui a most amaxlng appetite,
and the bountiful supper of stewed
chicken and cold lobster, not to roon
t Inn other good things of Aunt Llssy's
providing, received a hearty accept
ance. Although it was dark when sup
per was over, he could not resist go
ing out on the rocks and listening a
few minutes to the waves as they bent
When he returned to the house Al
bert found a bright lire burning In the
"I put yer things in yer room," said j
Uncle Terry, and, handing hlui a lamp,
ho added, "ye know whar 'tis now, I
hope; so tmd>c yerself t' bum."
Later, when they were all gathered
about the fire, both the "wimmln folks"
with their BOWlug and Uncle Terry en
Joying one of the cigars Albert had
brought him, the old man's dice gleam
ed as genial as the firelight. He told
stories of the sea, of storm and ship
wreck and curious experiences that bad
come to him during the many years lie
had dwelt beside the ocean, and while
Albert listened, stealing occasional
glances at the sweet faced girl whose
eyes were bent upon her sewing, tho
neighboring waves kept up tlielr mono
tone, and the lire sparkled and glowed
with a ruddy light.
"Don't you ever get tired of hearing
the waves beat so near you7" asked
Albert at last.
"Waal, there's suthin' curious 'bout
that," answered Unclo Terry. "I've
got so USter 'em they seem sorter nec
essary ter llvln', an' when 1 go 'way
it's hard fer me ter sleep fer mlssin'
'em. Why, don't yer like ter hear
"Dk yes; I enjoy them always, and
they aire .a lullaby that puts me to
sleep at once."
It was but little past 0 when Uncle
Terry arose and, bringing In n baskot
of wood, observed, "I guess I'll turn
in middlin' 'nrly so's to git up 'nrly an'
pull my traps 'fore breakfast, an' then
I'll take ye out flshin'. The mackerel's
bitin' good these days, an' mebbo ye'll
Aunt Llssy soou followed, and Albert
was loft alone with Telly. It looked
intentional. Tor a few moments he
watched her, still Intent on her work.
"Have you finished my sketches?" he
"Not quite," she replied. "I had to
go up to the cove to work on one In or
der to satisfy myself, and a good many
days It was too rough to row up there,
80 that hindered me. I have that one
finished, though, and the other almost." I
Was It possible that this girl had '
rowed four miles every day In order to
paint from tho original scene of his ;
"May I see the finished one?" ho |
She brought it. Not only was the ;
picture of herself sitting In the shade
of a low spruce reproduced, but tho
fern decorated boat near by. the quiet
little cove In front and a view of ocean
It was a charming picture.
"There Is only one thing lacking," |
she said shyly as he hold it at an angle
so the firelight would shine upon It,
"and I didn't dare put that in without
"I do not notice anything left out as
I recall the spot."
"But there Is," she replied, "and one
that should be there to make the pic
ture correct. Can't you guess?"
He looked at Telly's face, upon which
a roguish smile had come.
"No, I can't guess. Tell me what Is
"Yourself," she replied.
"But I do not want the picture to re
mind mo of myself. I wanted it so I
could see you and recall the day wo
were there." She made no reply, and
he laid It on the table and asked for
tho other one. It wos all done except
the finishing touches, but It did not
seem to be a reproduction of bis origi
nal sketch at the cove.
"I took the liberty of changing It a
little," she said as he was looking at
It, "ond put in the background where
you said you first saw me."
"It was nice of you to think of mak
ing the change," he replied quickly,
"and I am very glad you did. I want
ed it to portray you as I first saw
A faint j'nr.h came into her face. As
she was watching the fire he studied
the sweet face turned half away. Apd
what a charming profile It was, with
rounded chin, delicate patrician noeo
ond long eyelashes Just touching tho
cheek that bore a telltale flush! Was
that faint color due to tho fire or to
his words? Then they dropped Into a
pleasant chat about trifles, ond the
ocean's voice kept up Its rhythm, the
fire sparkled, and the small cottago
clock ticked the happy moments away.
"How Is Mrs. Lench?" he asked at
lost. "Does she pray as fervently at
"Just the same," replied Telly, "and
always will as long as sho hns breath.
It Is, as father nays, her only consola
"I have thought of that evening
many times since," he continued, "and
the Impression that poor old lady inndo
on mo with her p'teous supplication, I
wonder how It would affect a Boston
Church congregation some evening to
hove such on appearing figure, clad as
she was, rise and utter the prayer she
did. It would startle them, I think."
"I do not think Mrs. Leach would
enter one of your city churches," re
?ponded Tolly, "and certainly not clad
as she has to bo. .She has a little pride
even If she Is poor."
"Oh, I meant no reflection, only the
scene wns HO Impressive I wondered
how ,t would affect a fashionable
church gathering. I think It would do
them good to listen to a real sincere
prayer that came from some one's
heart and was not manufactured for
the occasion. Those who wear fine
mIi. ? and broadcloth and sit in cush
ioned pews .seldom hear such a prayer
us she uttered that night."
Then as Telly made no response he
sat In silence a few moments mentally
contrasting tho girl with those he had
met In Boston,
And what a contrast!
This girl clad In a gray dress severe
in Its simplicity and so ill fitting that it
really detracted from the beonMfnl out
lines of her form. Her luxuriant tress
es were braided and coiled low on the
back of her head, and at her throat a
tiny bow of blue. Not an ornament of
any nature, not even a ring, only the
crown of her sunny hair, two little
rose leaves In her cheeks and the
queenllko majesty of throat ond shoul
ders and bust, so classic that not one
woman in a hundred but would envy
her tbelr possession.
And what a contrast in speech, ex
pression and ways timid to the verge
of bashfulness, utterly unaffected and
yet sincere, teuder nnd thoughtful In
each and every utterance, a beautiful
dower grown to perfection among the
rocks of this seldom visited Island, un
trained by conventionality and unsul
lied by the world I "1 wonder how she
would act if suddenly dropped Into the
Nasons' home, or what would Alice
think of her." Then, ns he noted tho
sad little droop of her exquhrito Hps,
and as she, wondering nt his silence,
turned her pleading eyes toward him,
there came Into his heart in an Instant
a feeling that, despite her timidity and
her lack of worldly wlBdoro, ho would
value her love and confidence far
above any woman's he had ever mot.
"Miss Terry," he said gently, "do you
know I fancy that living here, ns you
have all your life, within sound of the
sad sea waves, has woven a little of
their melancholy into your nature and
n little of their pathos Into your eyes.
I thought so the first time I saw you,
and the more I see of you the more I
think it is so."
"The ocean does sound sad to me,"
she said, "and nt times it makes me
feel blue. Then I am so much alone
nnd have no one in whom to confide
my feelings. Mother would not un
derstand mo, and if father thought I
wasn't happy it would make him mis
erable." Then, turulng her pathetic
eyes full upon her questioner, she add
ed: "Did you ever think, Mr. Page, thai
the sound of the waves might be the
voices of drowned people trying to be
heard? I believe every human being
has a soul, and for all we know If-they
have gono down Into the ocean their
souls may bo in the water nnd possibly
are trying to speak to us."
"Oh, no, no, Miss Terry. That in all
Imagination on your part and due to
your being too much alone with your
own thoughts. Tho ocean of course has
a sad sound to ua all If we stop to
think about it, but It's best not to.
What you need Is the companionship
of some cheerfid girl nboui your own
nge." Then he added thoughtfully: "1
wish you could visit Alice for a fow
months. She would drive the megrims
out of your mind."
"I should be glad to have her como
and visit me. I am suro I should love
"I wish she could," he answered,
"but she Is a schoolteacher, and that
duty keeps her occupied most of the
time. I shall bring her down hero
next summer." Then, feeling it Un
fair to conceal the fact that he knew
her history any longer, ho said: "I beg
your pardon, Miss Terry, but I know
what Is at the bottom of your melan
choly moods, ond I kuew It the second
night I was here lost summer. Your
father told me your history then."
"He did? You knew my unfortunate
history that night?"
"I did, every word of It," ho answer
ed tenderly, "and I should have told
you I did If 1 had not been afraid It
would hurt you to know I knew It
Her eyes fell, nnd a look of palii come
Jnto her face.
"Please banish this mood from now
on and never let It return," he sold
hastily. "1 have como to tell you that
In the near future the mystery of your
lifo may be solved and, what Is better,
that a legacy awaits your claiming.
The matter has been In the bauds of an
unprincipled lawyer for some months,
os no doubt Mr. Terry has told you,
but now he Is dead, and I have taken
hold of If and shall not rest until you
hove your rights. We sball know what
your heritage Is and all about your on
cestors In a few months." Then he
added tenderly, "Would It pain you to
hoar moro about it, or would you roth
"Father has told me a little of It, but
I know he has kept most of the trouble
to himself. It's his way. Since be
came back from Boston he has acted
like his old self, and no words can toll
how glad I am. As for the money, it
musl nnd shall go to him, ever penny
of it, ond all the comfort 1 can give
him as long os he lives as well."
"I thank you for what you havo
said," said Albert quickly, "for now I
shall dare to tell you another story be
fore I go back. Not tonight," he add
ed, smiling, as she looked at him curi
ously, "bnt you shall hear It In due
time up at the cove, maybe, If tomor
row afternoon Is pleasant, 1, too, am
superstitions In some ways."
Perhaps to keep Telly from guessing
what his story was be talked upon ev
ery subject that might Interest her,
avoiding the one nearest his heart. It
001110 with a surprise when the Uttlu
clock chimed 11, ond be nt once arose
ond begged her pardon for the possible
trespass upon conventional hours. "You
will go up to tho cove with mo?" lie
asked as he pause?! a moment at tho
foot of the stall's.
"1 shall enjoy It very much, and I
have a favor I wnnt to ask of you,
which Is to let ino make a sketch of you
Just where you sat the time your boat
When he retired It was long after he
heard the clock downstairs strike tho
midnight hour, nnd In bis dreams he
saw Telly's face smiling In the fire
'M goln* to give ye a taste o'
mackerel ilshln'," said Uncle
Terry the next morning aft
er breakfast. "We'll go
over to I he fish house, an' ye can put
on some oilers on' sovo yer good
clothes." On the woy they met the
well remembered old lady Albert hod
first noticed ot the prayer meeting.
Sho recognfced him and, offering a
rather soiled hand, for she bad been
spreading fish on the racks, exclaimed:
"In the lord's nome I thank ye, Mr.
I'oge, fer reinemberln' o poor old erec
tor like me on' sendln' ;hat dress. I
moke sure the Lord's teched yer heart,
on' if ye ain't a believer yet ye will
"I am glad my nttlo remembrance
pleased you," answered Albert pleas
antly. "It was only a trllle, and you
need not feel obligated for It." He
kept on after Uncle Terry, not wishing
to waste any time, but she followed to
odd more thanks, ending with, "(io?.
bless ye, sir, on' may be worm the
henrt o* one good girl, fer ye denorvo
When he had donned n suit of oilers
nnd Uncle Terry was pulling out of the
little cove Albert sold: "That old lady
Is tho most pious perfton I ever met.
No one could doubt ?he means every
word she nnyn."
"Waal, It's about nil the consolation
she gits out o* life, on' 'twlxt you an'
me, sho tnkes more'n /ill the rest o'
the believers here," answered I'ncle
Terry, "an" ot times I 'most ens.v her
fer It. She's sorter cracked 'bout re
ligion; leastwise that's my notion, on'
mebbo It's lucky she Is, set-In s she's
poor on' notbln' but that fer comfort.
She's smart 'nuff other ways, though,
on' there ain't notbln' goln' on here she
don't know. She's kind hearted, too,
on' If she had anything ter give she'd
sfiaro her Inst cent with ye. It enny
bedy's ?Ick she's nllus ready to- help.
Ttaar's lots o' wuss folkH in the world
thnn the Widder Leech." Aud then,
as If that crowned the sum total of her
virtues, ho added, "Telly au' Ussy
thinks lots o' her."
He paused for breath and, turning to
see if they wore heading right, re
sumed his strong and steady pulling.
"Thar," observed Undo Terry, point
ing to a long aud narrow ledgo, "Is
whnr Telly started fer shore nil alone
Just nineteen years ugo last Murch."
And then he added while ho watched
Albert's averted face. " 'Twas au on
lueky day fer the poor sailors nn' a
lucky one fer us, fer she's been a heap
o' comfort ever since."
"Tell me, Uncle Terry, why It Is she
feels so sensitive regardliiK her history
and what Is the cause of the peculiar
moods you spoke of last summer. I
noticed it last evening, aud It pained
me very much."
"It's hard tellln'. She's a girl that's
given ter broodln' a good deal, an'
mebbe when she was told the facts she
began ter suspect, some o' her ances
tors would be lookln' her up some day.
She nllus has been a good deal by hor
self sonce she got her BChooIln', an' most
likely doln' lots o' thlnkln'. Hut Telly's
all right, an' the most wllllu1 an' tender
hearted creetur 1 ever seen or heard
on. She ll make an niniw.ln' good wife
fer some man if she ever llndu tho
When they reached tho island Undo
Terry landed and. going to the top of u
cliff, scanned the sea for signs of llsh.
"Mackerel's cur'us fish," he observed
to Albert, who bad followed. "They's
a good deal like some wimmln-?yo
never know whnr ter Dud 'em. Yester
day morn In' that COVO Jest inside o' tho
p'lnt was 'live with 'em, nn' today I
can't see u sign o' one. We better sit
here nn' wait a spell till I sight a
To a dreamer like Albert I'age the
limitless ocean view he now enjoyed
lifted him far above mackerel and
their habits. Ills mind was also ocou
pied a good deai by Telly, and while he
desired to please the kindly old mnn,
who Imnglned Dshlug would entertain
him, his heart was not In it.
"Don't let us worry ubout the mack
erel, Uncle Terry," he observed as they
seated themselves on top of a cliff.
"This lone, uninhabited Island and the
view her?> will content me until your
fish nre hungry."
"It nllus sets me thlnkln', too, nn'
wonderln' whnr we cum from nn*
what we air here for. An' our stay Is
so auiazln' short besides! Wo air born,
grow up, work a spell, Kit old an' die,
an' that's the end. 'Why, It don't seem
only last year when I cum to the Capo,
an' It's goin' nigh on to thirty now,
an' I'm a'most through my spell o' life.
What puzzles me Is what's the k'ood o'
belli' l>orn at all if ye've got ter die so
soon! An', inore'n all that, if life's the
Lord's blessln', as the Widder b'lievog,
wh.V are so many only born to Buffer or
be crippled nil their lives? An' why are
snakes an' nil sorts o' vermin, to say
uothiif o' chentin' luwyers, like Frye,
ever born at nil'/"
Albert smiled nt the coupling of Frye
with vermin. "There nre a good many
wiser heads than mine, Uncle Terry,
thnt have never been nble to nnswer
your question," he replied, "and I
doubt If they ever will. To my mind
the origin of life is an enigma, the
wide variations in matters of health
and ability an injustice, and tho end a
blank wall thnt none who scales ever
rcerosses with tidings of the beyond.
As some one has expressed It: 'Life is a
narrow vale between the cold and bar
ren peaks of two eternities! We strive
in vain to look beyond the heights.
We cry aloud, mid the only nnswer Is
tho echo of our walling cry.' "
"An' right thnr," put In Uncle Terry
enrnestly, "is whnr I nllus envy the
believers, as the Widder calls 'em, fer
they are satisfied what Is beyond un'
have It all plct'rd out in thnr minds,
even to what tho streets are paved
witli an' the kind o' music they're
goin' ter have. It's all guesswork, in
my way o' thlnkln', but they nre sure
on't, an' that feel In' Is lots o' comfort
to 'em when they are drawlll' near the
end. I've been n sort er scoffer all
my life an' can't help bein' a doubter,
but there nre times when I envy the
Widder Leach an' the rest on 'em the
delusion 1 b'llevo they're laborln' un
"Hut do you believe death ends nil
consciousness?" asked Albert seriously.
"Have you no hope, ever, of a life be
yond this blank wall?"
"Snrtlu 1 have hopes, snmo as nil on
us bus, but 1 wish I was more sure
my hopes wns goin' ter be realized.
Once in awhile I git the feel I a' thnr
ain't no use in hopln', an' then a little
Authln keeps snyln' 'Mcbbo mebbc
mebbo' - an' I feel more cheerful
Albert looked at the roughly clad
nnd withered old man who sat near,
nnd in whose words lurked an under
tone of sadness mingled with a faint
hope, and in au instant back came u
certain evening months before when
the WldOW Leach had uttered a prayer
that had stirred his feelings as no
such utterance ever hnd before. All
tho pnthos of thnt simple petition, nil
its nbldlng fnlth in God's goodness
nnd wisdom, nil Its utter self abnega
tion and absolute confidence In a life
beyond tho grave, enmo back, and all
the consolation thnt feeling surely held
for tho old nnd poverty environed
soul who uttered it Impressed him In
Sharp contrast to the doubting "mebbo
? mebbo" of Undo Terry.
As Albert looked out to where tho
waves were breaking upon a ledge,
nnd bnck again to this old mnn sitting
with bowed bend beside him, n sincero
regret thnt it wns not In his power to
utter ono word thnt would old In dis
pelllug tho clouds of doubt came to
him. "Since 1 lnck In fnlth myself,"
he thought, "nil I can say will only Id*
I crease his doubt, i wish I hud as
much faith as tho widow, but I have
not, and possibly never shall have."
For a long tlmo ho snt in silence, living
over the yenrs during which skepticism
hnd been slowly but surely growing
upon him, find then Undo Terry sud
denly looked up nt htm. It Is likely tho
old man's keen eyes rend nt n glance
what was in Albert's mind, for he said:
"It don't do no good ter brood over
this matter o* bellevln', Mr. I'age; I've
wished I thought different many a
time, an' more so now I'm gittln' near
the end o' life, but 1 enn't, nn' so thar's
no use In worryln*. Our 'pinions 'bout
theae matters are a good deal due to
our brlngln' up an' tho experiences
we've met with. Mine, connected with
those ns hns perfesscd religion, has, to
sny the least, been unfortnlt, but, ns 1
said afore, I wish I believed different."
Ho paused a few moments and then
added sadly, "This hopln' ain't nllus
best fer some on us either, for It's
hopln' fer uome one to cum year after
year that's made Telly what BliO is nn1
grieved Llssy an' me niore'n she ever
Albert looked curiously nt the old
mnn beside him, nnd a new feeling of
trust nnd affection enmd to him. In
SOUO ways Uncle Terry seemed like
his own I n liter. Then, following that,
came a sudden Impulse to bo frank
"Uncle Terry," he said, "I have n
little story to tell you, und, us it comes
eloso to you, I believe it's right that
you should know it. The first time I
saw Telly I said to myself, 'That girl
Is n prize nny man may feel proud to
win.' I asked her If I might write
to her, nnd what with her few letters
nnd the little I have seen of her I feel
that she Is the one I want for a wife.
I have not even hinted It to her yet,
nnd before I do I would like to fco)
that you nre satisfied with me. May I
have your copsont to win her if I
Uncle Terry reached out and grasped
Albert's hand " id, shaking u cordially,
answered, "Ye hev my best wishes in
the matter, an' I wouldn't say that If
I didn't think ye worthy o" her!" Then
he added with a droll smile, "Ltssy an'
me sorter 'spected that Telly was the
magnet that drew ye down here!"
"1 thank you for your confidence and
consent," replied Albert gratefully. "I
am earning an Income that Is more
than sufficient for tWO, and If Telly
will say 'yes' I shall be the happiest
man on earth. And now," he added,
let's go (Ishlng, Uncle Terry."
"I guess It's 'bout time," was tho
answer, "for (bar's two schools work
In' Into the cove, an' we'll have some
Three hours after, when they lauded
at the cove fairly sated with pulling
In the gamy little mackerel and happy
as two boys, Telly met them with a
smile ami the news that dinner was
R Will go In my bont." said
Telly the next afternoon
when she and Albert were
ready to start on their trip
to the cove, and, unlocking a small an
nex to I * nele Terry's boat house,
she showed him a dainty cedar craft,
cushioned and carpeted. "You may
help me launch the Sea Shell," she
added smiling, "and then you may
"No, Unit Is the lady's privilege In
all voyages," he answered, "and we
must begin this one right."
It was a good four mile pull to the
mouth of the Inlet, and when be
helped his fair passenger out he said:
"Do you mean to say you rowed up
here alone every day to work on that
picture, Telly"; You will let lue call
you Telly now, won't you?"
"Why not? All my friends do, and I
feel you are my friend." Then she
added: "Now 1 am going to have my
revenge and make you pose while I
Sketch this time. It was the other
"I am glad It Ih," he said, "for my
arms are too tired to use for an hour.
How do you want ine, lint on the rock
fast asleep, the way 1 was when my
boat drifted away?"
"Oh, no, that would look ns If you
were dead, and as this Is to be m.V re
minder of you I want you very much
alive." As for tho pose she wanted
Albert to assume, she could not de
termine which she liked the best.
"I want to sketch you In the position
moat natural to you here," sho said
llunlly, "and must ask you to choose
"Lot us trim the boot the way mine
was that day, and I will sit beside it
and smoke while you work."
The Idea was adopted, nnd while
Telly sketched ho smoked, contented
to watch the winsome face, so oblivi
ous to his admiring glances.
"There," six- observed, after a half
hour of active penciling, "please iny
your cigar aside and look pleasant. I
want to catch the expression of your
When the sketch was completed she
asked if he bad any suggestions to
"Only one. I would like you In the
picture and sitting beside me."
"I would rather not be In It," she
replied soberly. "I only want to see
you as you are here today. It may be
a long time before you come to tho
"Would you like mo to come often?"
"Of course," she answered, turning
away her face. "It Is ho lonesome
here, and there Is no one I care to talk
with except lather and mother and
Aunt i.each and Mnndy Oaks."
Albert's heart began to beat with un
usual speed. Never in his life before
lid I he felt the Impulse to utter words
of love to any woman. "Telly," he
said, "I promised to tell you a llttlo
story here today, but It's all said In a
fow words. I love you, and I want
you to share my life and all that I can
do to make you happy." A trlflo in
coherent, but expressive.
For a moment, while the tide of fool
ing surged through that queen's heart
and Into her cheeks, even to tho tips
of her ears, sho was silent, and then, as
both her hands went to her face, sho
almost whispered: "Oh, no, no; I can
not! I can never leave father and
mother alone here! It would break
"Hut you do core a little for me, don't
you, Telly?" he begged, trying to draw
her bands away from her blushing
face. "Just a little, Telly; only say a
little, to give me hope."
And Iben, as one of the hand.: ho
was trying to gain was yielded and as
lie softly stroked ond then rnlsed It to
Ills lips, she turned her pleading eyos
to him and said: "You won't bo angry,
will you? And you will como nnd seo
me once In awhile, won't you? And
let me paint a picture to glvo you when
It may have been the pain in his
face, added to her own desolation, that
overcame all else, for now she bowed
her bead, ond the tenrs came.
"I thank you for so much, Telly," ho
answered tenderly, "and (lod bloss you
for lt. I do not give you up and shall
not If I have to wait all my life for
you. I enn be patient If I only hovo
hope." Ho brushed bis foco with one
hand ond, still holding hers, arose and
drew her up. Then Albert slyly put
his arm around her waist, and on ho
drew her to him he whispered, "Just
one, Telly, my sweetheart, to mnko
this spot seem more sncred,"
It wns not refused.
"Come out on tho point, dear," he
sold os she tried to draw herself nwny,
"so wo can seo the ocean better. I
will tell you !!;; Story i promised lost
e vening." He still held her a half
prisoner, ond when they wcro seated
Where the waves were beating almost
at their feet he began his recital. When
he came to that portion In which Fryo
played a part, nnd ending In suc|| a
ghastly denouement, sho shuddered,
"That Is the one horrible part of
taking your own life," she sold, "to
think how you will look ond what
those who lind you will sny. If I were
to do such a thing I should first mnko
sure no one would ever Und me."
'I he remark startled him. "Telly " he
?nid soberly, "do not ever think of
such a thing. Would you, whose heart
Is bo loving and tender, bunten all
those who know you with a lifelong
"No, no, not that way. Only If those
who lovo mo were taken I should want
tp follow them. That Is all. Pleajo
forget I na Id It." Then ?ho told him
her own brief history, nnd at lust,
after much coaxing, a llttlo of the one
sorrow of hor life.
"Now I know," he said, "why you
avoided speaking about the picture of
the wreck the first time I came here."
Then In a moment he added: "Telly, I
want you to give It to me ami let me
take It away. I want It for two rea
sons. One Is, it gave me the tlrst hint
of your life's history. And then I do
not want you to look at It any more."
"You may have It," she answered,
smiling sadly. "It was foolish of me
to paint It."
When the sun wns low and they woro
ready to return he Bald, "Promise me,
sweetheart, that you will try to forget
all of your past thnt Is snd nnd think
only of vis who love you und to whom
your life is n blessing."
Thnt evening he noticed Uncle Terry
occasionally wntehed her with wistful
eyes, nnd, ns on the evening boforc,
both he and Aunt I assy retired early.
"They wish me well," Albert thought.
The next dny Uncle Terry proposed
thnt Telly should drive to the head of
the island In his place.
"I'm sorry ye must leave us, Mr.
I'nge," he snld when Albert wns ready
to bid the old folks goodby. "I wish
ye could stuy longer, but cum ug'ln
soon, an' remember our latchstring's
nllus out fer ye."
When the old cnrrynll bad made half
Its dully Journey Albert pointed to a
low rock nnd said, "There Is a spot I
shall always be glad to see, for It was
there Uncle Terry Ilrst found me."
Telly made no answer. In fact, she
hud snld but little since they stnrted.
When they reached the little lundlug
no one else wns there. No house was
in sight of It, und tho sojitude wns
broken only by the tide thnt softly
. enrossed the bnrnneled plies of tho
Wharf und the weed covered rocks on
either side. No bout wns vlslblo
ndown the wide rench thnt sepnrntes
Southport Island from the mnlnlund,
und Iii? It came a light sea breeze thnt
barely rippled the flowing tide and
whispered through the brown nnd scar- I
let leaved thicket back of them. Over
all shone the hazy sunlight of October.
Telly stood listening nnd hoping that
the bout would be late. A look of snd
nesa en me over her face nnd a moro
than usually plaintive appeal in her
expressive v.>c.s. i am sorry you nro
going," she said. "It Is so lonesome
here, and it will seem more so now."
Then, as if that was a confession ho
might think unmaideuly, she added, "I
dread to have the summer end, for
when winter comes the rocks all
around seem like so many tombstones."
Albert put out his hand as If that
would aid his appeal, nnd nn his An
gers closed over hers he snld: "I am
going away with a heavy heart, Telly,
and when I can come back Is hard to
say. Will you not promise me thnt
some time, no matter when, you will
be my own good and true wife? Let
me go away with that hope to comfort
me while I work and save for a homo
for us both. Will you, Telly?"
Hut the plaintive face was turned
away, perhaps to hide the tenrs. Then
an arm stole around her waist, and as
he drew her close sho whispered,
"When I am no longer needed here, If
you want me then I will come to you."
She was sobbing, her head resting on
his shoulder, and as he kissed her un
resisting lips a boat's sharp whistle
broke the sacred spell.
"Clo a little way back, my darling,"
he whispered, "until the boat is gone.
I do not want any one to see you have
When her misty eyes could no longer
see the boat that boro her heart away,
she turned, nnd all tho long, lonely
way back love's tears lingered on her
mountnlns nround Bnnd
gnto wero nriamc with the
scarlet nnd gold of nutuiim
before life seemed qulto ns
usual to Allee Page. The summer idyl
hnd passed, nnd though It left n soar
on hor heurt she hnd resolutely do
teVmlned to put the sweet Illusion out
of her luiud. "I wns very foolish to
let him see that L eared," she thought,
"for It can never be. and by and by
he will forget mo, or If he does think
of me 11 will be to reeall me as one of
his summer girls who had a lit of sil
Her heart ached nt times, and In
spite of all resolution her lingers would
once In awhile stray to tho ehoids of
"Hen Bolt," She answered Iiis lettors
In a cool, mutter of fact wny. Occa
sionally, when he referred to Iiis heart
hunger and how hard he was studying
In hopes that She might think better
of him, she wished that he had no
purso proud and haughty mother to
stand between hliu and a poor girl, nnd
her next letter would be IUOI'0 chilly
than over. What perhaps was a bitter
sweet thought was the fact that the
colder she answered him tho wanner
his next letter would be. He happened
to mention once that bis mother hud
spoken of a certain young lady, wlio
belonged to the cream of Boston so
ciety, as an eligible match and advised
him to show her a little attention. It
did not help ids cause.
How grateful she was all through
those melancholy autumn days that she
had n huge school to absorb her
thoughts. She wns having u long and
hard light with her 6"Wn feelings, ami
Imagined she had conquered thoiu
when Thanksgiving time drew near
and her brother announced ho would
run up and spend the day with her.
Bite almost cried for joy at tin- news,
for proud spirited Alice Pago was feel
ing very heart hungry when the letter
came. Albert was Just a little surpris
ed nt her vehement welcome.
"Oh, I have been so lonesome, Her
tle," she said when they were alone,
"and the evenings drag by :;o slowly!
Then you do not write me as often or
such nice letters ns formerly, and Aunt
Susan never seems t<> notice that I am
blue. If It were not for iny school I
should go crn/.y, 1 think."
"I am very busy these days, sis,"
Albert replied, "and my mind is all
tnkon up With work. Mr. Nason's
business Is increasing, and 1 have many
clients besides him." Then he added,
"How did you like Blanch Nnaon?"
"Oh, she was very nice," replied
Alice coolly, "and if she wero a poor
girl and lived here 1 could easily learu
to love hor. As it is, it Is useless for
me to think of her as a friend. It was
good of her to pay me a visit, though,
and I enjoyed every minute of it."
"And what about Frank) Hid ho
not say a lot of sweet things to you?"
"Oh, he is nlco enough," she answer
ed, "und tried to make me believe he
had fallen in love with me, but it won't
do any good 1 am sure bis managing
mamma will marry him to some thin
girl with a fat purse."
"So that H the way the wind blows,
my sweet sister, is It? And yet my
possible future law partner lias been
humming 'Ben Holt' nearly every day
for the past two months: You must
have smiled on him very sweetly when
he < here."
"iMe?se do not say any more about
btiu, Bert," she answered with a little
pnin In her voice. "Ho is all right, but
I am too poor and too proud to satisfy
his mother, so that is all there is to it."
Then sho ndded In self protection,
?Tell me nbout tho island girl I heard
you fell In lovo with on the yachting
trip aud for whom you deserted the
crowd." Albert looked confused. "It
Is true, Bertie," she said quickly. "I
can seo It in your face. That explains
your abort letters. I shall feel more
desolate now than ever."
"Alice, my sweet little sister," he re
plied, resolutely drawing his chair near
and taking her hand, "it I? true, an* I
intended to tell you all about It, only
I hated to do It at first und so put It
off. She Is more than pretty, sho la
beautiful, aud the most unaffected nnd
tender hearted girl \ ever met. But
you need not worry. She Is so devoted
to the two old people who have brought
her up as their own that she will not
leave them for me ns long as they
Then he frankly told Alice the entlro
story of his waif of the sea and how
she had refused to yield to his plead
"And now, sweet sister," be said at
last, "I have a plan to unfold, and I
want you to consider it well. I am
now earning enough to maintain a
home, and I am tired of boarding
house life. It Is not likely I shall mar
ry the girl I love for many years to
come, and there is no need for us to bo
separated In this way. I think It is
best that we close the house or rent it
for the present, and you and Aunt Su
san come to Boston. I can hire a pret
ty flat, and we can take down such of
tho furniture as we need and store tho
rest. What do you think of the plan?"
"Oh, I shall be so glad of the change,
Bertte! It is so desolate here, nnd I
dread the long winter. But what can
I do In Boston? I cannot be idle."
"Will not housekeeping for ID0 be
occupation enough?" be answered,
smiling, "or you might give music
lessons and study shorthand. I need
a typewriter even now."
"But what will Aunt Susan think of
the change? And It will be such a
change for her!"
"She will got used to it," ho an
Then, as Alloc begat to LOall/.o what
it meant to bid goodby to the scenes of
her childhood, tho old home, the great
trees in front, the broad meadows, the
brook that rippled through them, tho
little church where every one greeted
her with a smile, and the grand old
hills that surrounded Sandgate's
peaceful valley, her heart began to
sink. Then she thought of the pleas
ant woods where she bad so often
gone nutting in autumn, the old ralU
pond where every summer since baby
hood she had gathered lilies, and even
thobv. barefooted school children of
(TO BE CONTINUKD.)
Sweet Pea Contest.
The beautiful gold mounted fountain
pen offered by the Union Drug Com
pany for the prettiest, most perfect and
luxuriant bunch of sweet peas brought
to the Union Drug Company by May
31st was won bv Mrs. J. W. Clark,
Hotel U nion. The seed were given to
any ami all applicants who desired to
enter the contest. Quito a number of
ladies got seed and planted, and there
were a number of blossoms brought in
?>n time, but none quite so fine as Mrs.
< lark's. Union Times.
When walk-over go on trouble gooa
off. See Copcland's.
Be sure to let us show you our line
of Go-Carts with different colors of
runing gear and upholstery with rubber ijj
tires and the improved foot brakes.
S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & < o.
See that $2.25 line of Oxford for men
The line of Bed Room Suits thai we
have on our sample Moor is made of
solid oak, beautifully finished and at
prices that will be to your interest t<>
see our line before you buy.
S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co,
Straw Hats for everybody at Cope
Our China and Class ware department
is complete and wu can supply you with
any article you may need for your Home.
S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co.
White canvas oxfords for women and
children at Copehmd's.
If your Cooking Stove is not giving
you satisfaction and is about worn oul
dispose of it and let us sell you a Bucks
that is made of the best quality of Iron
and is guaranteed to give you satis
faction. Sold only by,
S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co.
Don't buy a Refrigerator, he Cream
Freezer or a Water Cooler before you
see our line.
S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co.
"For seven years," writes Ceo. W.
Hoffman, of Harper, Wash., "1 had a
bitter battle, with chronic stomach and
liver trouble, but at last I won, and
cured my diseases, by the use of Electric
Bitters. I unhesitatingly recommend
them to all, and don't intend in the fu
ture to be without them in my house.
They are certainly a wonderful medi
cine, to have cured such a bad case as
mine." Sold, under guarantee to do
the same for you, by Laurens Drug Co.
and Palmetto at 50c a bottle. Try them
I have sold my interest in the busi
ness of Clary, Adams and Co. Laurens,
S. C, to J. J. Adams and S. It. Todd
who will continue the business and who
have assumed <?11 liabilities,
42-3t J. E. Clary.
For Iufants and Children.
The Kind You Have Always Bought
J. R. Hellams
I MARBLE AND GRANITE MONUMENTS
Gray Court, S. C.
Highest Grades and Finest Work
manship in Granite or Italian, Ver
mont and Geogin Marbles. Design
and estimates furnished on apphca
W. B. KNIGHT,
Attorney at Law.
Strict attention tonll business cid rusted.
Office hours 9 a. m. to 5 p. in.
Office second floor Simmons' Block.
We have an equipment of up-to-date Machinery
for Commercial Job Work. -
We employ only such men as are perfect in their
places. - -- -- -- --
We put into each job all the perfection of a
superior plant, and all the skill that our force is
capable of. - -- -- -- -
An order placed with us means more than mere
satisfaction it means your printed matter will
bear our mark of quality. - - - - -
When You want Printed Stationery that has Quality consult Us
HIGH IN QUALITY
LOW IN PRICE
Copeland <& Blackwell
In The Advertiser Building, Laurens, S. C.