Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1871-10-18

|
we're left, like shells, forgotten upon the
sands for walking around the bend OF
the beach, where a bluff hid them from
sight, with the wind blowing the other
way, they had neither heard nor saw their
companions embark for home, too busy
with their own affairs to remark the ab-
sence of John and EIinor, who only un-
derstood the situation when they turned
| back to where the boat had been moored,
and found the tents struck and the beach
lonely and deserted, except for some bare
footed children gathering drlft-wood, and
flock of sand-blrds daring the waves.
The afternoon was Just melting into the
tender atmosphere of early twilight, when
all things wear an unreal aspect, and the
halfguessed stars sift themselves throu IN
the gloom, and the rad ance from the nei-
ther half Of the sphere-trom the morn
ing world-seemed running over into this
along the horizons brim. Far away a
sail pricked itself out against the heavens
moment, and was gone; a fishing craft
was dropping down over the bar; and a
| pleasure-boat bubbling over with song and
aughter, pushed its way toward home,
Jo ohm shouted to them and waved his hat,
but tue wind blew his voice down his
throat, and the gay reyelers fled on wings
of mirth.
What shall We do?' asked Elinor
| How shall We reach home p
The gods help those who help them
selves sad he We will ask these gyp-
" children if there isn't a boat to be
found. There isn't so much as shed for
shelter on this lonely beach But neither
the children nor the Seniors party Of
half gypsy folks, who had enca nped on
the sands to carry off the beach-p lumS
| and as sort of economical method o.
spending the sumner at the sea shore
with plenty Of fire wood at first cost, and
birds tame as chic ens-had anything but
leaky skilf to offer, but who, with the
ready hospitality OF the dweIIers in tents,
invited them to share the shelter of their
canvas root; but as the oars of he sk't
| we're broken. and Elnor's slipper wa, not
AT hand, 1t seemed Of little use Thus at
their wits ends they paced the sands, upon
" h'ch the waves encrOached more and
more. making green hollows in the moon
| light when they broke, and firing ng the
one line of coasts with spray like tang.e~
of pearls. John heaped a cushion Of
beech grass. and they sat in the pale igh
uf "a moon that was slowly dipping behind
the dunes aud watched the great untamed
monster shake lis name at their very feet
-ud listened 10 its endless ia cGpos. and
wondered if the silver bridge which the
moonbeams threw across the water would
! bear them home. AMI repeated love lines
from the poets r he sang to her
on. listen to tha lovvrn- sea.
Inat beats on the reu..rl less slarel
oh. lstcu, Tor the sound -hall he
When our wilt heerl- -ha'I beat no more
OA. A-t"n well and listen long
For, sitting folded close o. me
Non could not uear a ~weeter song
Than THAT uoarsc ulUru1ur ui lAt sea.
The moon fell lower VIII le he sang, and
eff, the world to starlight; tie wind blew
freshly off the sea; E1ror ~hv.red in the
blast. Snail we accept the gyI sizes uv'-
tation,' he asked. or shall we walls to
| town p
How far is it, john She called him
John. 1t seemed new name as spoken
by her. She gave it new meaning.
is eight miles Ejnor, over marshy
places and roagh ways
Let US try it, Bu. before they had
gone half mile on the beach her
strength gave out. am So tired She
SAID. II one could only fly 4; that
moment he felt an almost irresistible iu-
pulse to seize the little hand resting on h'>
arm. and to cover it with kisses to fold
her in his arms then and there, and whis-
per. If you are tired, darling, rest here.
| Tor love is rest and blesseineSs supreme !;
and i love you But the old haunting
! dstrust recurred what if She should an
-wer Not here; your love IS not large
enough for me, not blessedness enough,
| And while he hcsitated and doubted and
half believed, boat shot along the shore.
and buried It's keel in the sand. They
had sent relief from town.
They had sailed up the wide river, and
watched the light house send its flames far
out on the waters, and met the wrath-like
| Iorms OF ships at the wharves, silent as
ghosts. the town lights like jack-o' lanterns,
aud the tide setting round the piers and
when they reached home and he left Elm
or at her fathers door, the clocks We're
striking midnight, and startled robin in
the elm-trce overhead vas trilling sleepy
note.
But fortune was not to be severe with
John for one neglect of opportunity, and
meant to offer him greater inducements
and more tempting chances. Einor 5
father awoke one morning and found him
self bankrupt Somewhat later john went
to purchase pair Of new gloves, in which
10 worthlly pay his respects to his love,
when who should step forth behind the
counter to wait upon his demand but Elm
or herself,
You, Elinor " he exc aimed. Think
ing of angels, you hear the rustic of their
wings.
The wheel of fortune has made a revo-
luton, you see, and here | am. But not
crushed by it
That is we'll For man is man the
poet sings, and master of his fate.
L don't thing it means woman, though,
said she. WHAT can | do for you?
am at your service. Gloves Jouvin's =?
Yes Are you going to Mr.. Swell's
tomorrow night?'
Am I going? The Swells have for,
gotten my existence. | have gone under,
so to speak, as far as they are concerned.
Indeed! l was looking forward to
meeting you there
And you meet me here instead.
But if you are not there, l shall not
care to 60.
Thank you but should be sorry to
deprive you of a happiness
'Shoula you?' leaning across the coun-
ter You asked just now what you could
do for me. Shall [ tell you?'
Yes, you may tell me-
HIS eyes held hers, intense with mean
ing; his lips trembled with the burden of
his heart; and his desire was leaping ur
/ and chnninrr i+nnlf into +nndnr. rrn-Ic