Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1865-11-28

|
than either Of the Esterley's, but wha. goot
would it do me?
Inc feathers make fine birds, ! said bitter
| ly " and my feathers are not fine
Then looked around my homely, comfortable
little room. How delighted had been six year
ago with that chest Of drawers which marked thC
tine when mother began To think me old enough
TO take care Of my own clothes how lubilan
ever that rockng-chair which father had brought
home TO me from an auction sale Every article
there sigLihed some tender memory on the par
Of one or the other Of my parents oi their only
child, and over every one | had been girishIy
glad and gay Now, how common and hateiu
they all were in my sigh. THE rag carpet or
the floor, the wooden chara, the looking-ghss
framed in q narrow moulding Of painted wood
| Down stairs, knew, work was steadily going on
Father was busy in the garden. Mother was
nokn g ready for supper | ought 10 be helping
her, but did not move. Just sat still, and con
tras,ed over and over again the homey surround
| ngs Of my work-aday lot with the Esterley
splendors, and wished that | had been born tc
better fortunes.
Once thought Of John Coman crossed my
ind and believe shrank from it with yel
more Of repugnance than from the reg carpet and
wooden chairs. John was farmer and would
never be anything else-would never care 10 be,
| His father and mother were both dead, and the
farm he Tiled was his own. II joined ours on
the east, and knew my parents had noticed
Johns liking for me with satisfaction, and had
ancsd what pleasant thing It would be to have
me settle down there just beside them. Between
John ard me, however, noting had ever be 0
] Iot Ifa sl, ord
! persistent by nature-alEays ready 70 wait ill the
| Iight time cane. believe that waiting and
| hoping bad a certain sweetness for him which he
would uot care to forsgo. Only o week since
he had brought me bunch Of June rcses and !
bad tken them with shy pleasure. II he bad
| spoken then | should have promised to marry
| him, probably. Now, with my new views Of life
my perceptions quckened and Illuminated by the
/ E,terley grandeur, drew long breath Of relief
and seli-c0ngratuIation at the thought that | was
perfectly free from John Colman. | don't know
lohdi hoped-how expected to change my pros
pectsi but something must turn up, ! felt. At
any rate, lot Of my own accord would bind my
self down to the homey details Of life Ike the
present.
Frances, called my mothers kind voice a! the
foot Of the stairs, "come, child supper's all
ready"
went down stairs slowly Oh, what would
give now to see that room, and that dear mother
Just as they were then But at the time | felt no
charm. Every thing looked 50 dul and homely.
Yet oil was spotlessly neat. The rag carpet was
oleanly swept, and through the open door and
windows came in the fragrance Of the June roses
all in bloom. Father and mother were at the
table Mother looked tired and little flushed,
but she smiled when opened the door, a, you
have seen mothers smile, perhaps, on only chill
dren.
Come Frank" she said, " I've got something
you'll ike. Father brought in pail Of straw
berries and I've made strawberry shor-cake.
thought | wouldn't cal you to help me because
1t would taste better, II you didn't see it before
hand.
/ glanced at the table. The cloth was not fine
damask, but it was clean and white. Everything
vas neat and orderly. But to Y jaundiced Wis
ion il oil looked common and plain and unnyit-
| ting. | could weep nov, when tears would be
vain, to think how churlish and ungrateful was
ale a little Of the cake bu. did not praise it,
aud felt that mothers disappointment was 10 be
seen on her face, though | would not look at
her.
After supper began to clear off the table, but
moved round with a slow, reluctant step, aud an
intense hatred Of dishwater and drudgery.
Are you tired, Frances p My mother S
voice had tender, anxious tone in it which would
have touched me if my discomfort had not lain
too deep to be easily exercised
| "No, m not tired
" Or sick ?" she pursued, puzzled probably by
nv unusual answer.
aNo," cried, impatenIly, aim not sick, or
, tired Of anything but my life. | hate this dull,
,ndlsss round Of cooking and eating dish'clolhs
and dusters."
all do up the work tonight, Frank, she said
gently.
g 30, I'd rather. lis not to-nght's work that
| mind, but the whole thing. There's no grace
or charm to a farmers life, any way. |! isn't
what was made for, know"
"Would God have put you in the midst Of it
thin, my dear2 II it is the station in life to
which it has pleased Him to call you, it must be
the right place, think"
| did not answer. | could not reason about it.,
but felt it would take something more than the
Cateehsm to make me convinced. finished the
work, and then | went out Of doors. broke of
branch ofthe red June roses and fastened them
in nv black brads, Then went out into the
road, and began pacing back and iorth under the
trees, going on with my rebelous musings, in
duleing my longings for gay, bright, iesIal life.
| was too much absorbed TO hear an approaching
footstep, and did not look up until | heard my
name called
Frank Il mean Miss Palmer-is it possible p
raised my eyes, and met those OF Tom E'-
,erley. The meeting did not embarrass me. |
saw, with that first glance, that he admired me,
and my natural feminine coquetry put me at
ease.
Is what possible ?" | asked, cooly.
lis il possible that four years have changed
little Frank Palmer to what | seeP May was
speaking Of you to-day, and wanting to see you
You must come over tomorrow. Or won't you
20 now, tonight She would be so glad
" Not till tomorrow, il you please"
lie accepted my decision readily enough, but
he fingered a long time beside me, walking back
and forth under the trees, and when he went away
made me promise faithfully to call on his sister
the next day. Then he begged the bunch ofro,es
from my hair, and pressing them gallanty to his
lips, bade me good night
Nv heart was in a strange iiutter OF ambition
and eratified vanity | wondered il young Mr..
E,terley held the key which was to open for me
the door into that new lile-the lif, of pleasure
and ease and .legance-on which longed to en-
ter. Viewed apart from any such considerations
doubt whether should have found him very
fascinating. Looking back to-day, can see him
standing there in the June twilight just as clear
Iva. saw him then, and probably judge him
great deal more justly. d,
A neat, trim figure, with dainty, weli-shod
feet, nice little hands in primrose colored gloves
fresh, well-ftng summer clothes, Panama hat
with wide ribbon swinging from his fingers
these. with face which had no great strength in
L for good or evil lgh, eyes, soft light hair, silk
en- mustachs, and an expression OF serene com
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