New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1875-02-28

I
| thus.
At the last change of trains, ten mile
from Heartsease, heavy summer shove
was drenchlng the town: the very raj
was hot, and the earth steamed lustil,
| feared my plan was spoiled, my NEE
ing at the gate after long years of patien
| and hopeful waiting. But the rain passe
| over, and l vas again under way: No'
every inch eff the Gay was familiar
recognized old houses and barns and strip
Of fences and streams that had not been Il
| my mind once in all these years. l knew
every block of forest that had been left Oh
the border Of the upland fields, and all tn
meadows, marshy or dry: the very faces Q
the people seemed to recall some one nae
known before The hills were like lesson
learned by heart, and now l came upon tnt
actual haunts OF my school-boy days-th'
wood where We gave our pienlcs; tEe Tee
house, a little out Of the village, where on
OF the boys Iived-str2 ngelv enough I'M
house renembe red. but the boy looks ant
name had gone from me-and then the tram
stopped. I felt tingling sensation. as i
the blood were coming 10 the surface a..
over me.
A switchireu. and a stranger. waved
Us welcome with yard OF flaming bunt
ing hurried out of the car and allghteC
within half q mile OF Heartsease. On the
platform where | had parted with my
schooimates fifteen years before waited
till the train had passed onward and out OF
sight. | was alone: the switchnan asked
no odds OF me. but turled his bunting and
Immediately withdrew. For moment
looked about me IN bewilderment. l think
could have turned back had l been en-
coura ged to do SO, for l felt half guilty in
thus surprising my friends. moment
later plucked up heart and struck into the
road that leads up to the village.
The road has margin of grass and weeds.
and there are meadows on both sides. !
walked into the very middle OF it. with M
portm anteau in my hand. and locke.
straight ahead. Before me lay the village.
a cluster Of white houses empowered in
trees. II was sunset; the rain lad washed
the leaves aud laid the dust in the road;
the air was exquisitely fragrant and OF I'M
common softness; the white spire OF the vii
lage church. rianked by a long line OF poplars.
was gilded with a sunbeam. but the lowly
roofs OF the villagers were bathed Il the ra-
dian. twilight that had Geepened under the
western hills. Cattle we're lowing in the
meadows: the crickets chirped everywhere;
a barber swallow Glove the air Ike an arrow
whose force is nigh spent, and Ike a child's
vo.ce rang out on the edge OF the village as
clear as clarion. l paused and laughed
aloud. | was mad with oy; an ex uisire
thrill ran through me; it seemed to me that
the Lost delicious moment of ny lie had
come
| entered the village a boy again. with
all the wild ambition of a boy and with a
ooy's rOguish spirit | resolTed to PLAY
lpon them at the parsonage. If Ellen we're
cot at the gate waiting for me. : would
enter as perfect stranger and remain a
season before throwing OF disguise. would
lead the conversation from topic
o topic until We came natural to the past,
md there in the past my shadow would
appear. and then at the right moment I
would throw myself at EIien's feet and bury
ny head in her lap and weep for very JOY.
These dreams beguiled me as l drew near
he village. My step was buoyant; /
carcely felt the weight of my pOrtmarte au;
was drunk with expectation and delight.
4 the village / found the streets and
ouses and signs for the most part unchang-
d. but looked in vain for familiar face.
few lads were playing about the corners
md VIXEN / saw them it suddenly occurred
o me that all these youngsters under fifteen
we're not born when was schoolbuy in
!eactaease. turned away from them with
feeling Of Tnutterable disappointment.
Why should not all my playmates be mar
led or dead Or have moved out of tha vii
age if changes had come to it! | had not
bought much of change in this connection.
nd it was hard blow.
A faint flush was in the evening SKY: it |
Tas the afterglow, and in its light pressed |
inward toward the parsonage. A hollow in |
he road, thrOug b which a stream rippled. |
" between me and the grove that sheltered |
liens home; | fastened down it and began |
lin bling the easy ascent on the other side of |
10 stream. | seemed to grow years older |
18th every step | took, for l knew that the
nange which comes to all must have
Dme to me 10 like measure, though / was
Oy again when | came up the road laugh.
e and l heard the first sweet village
Cice.
There was no form at tie gate awaiting
e. bat the house was quito unaltered, and
knew every leaf in the garden. The flush
the sky had turned to gold and the air
robbed with light as hid my portmanteau
1der the rosebush by the gate and stole
, to the study door. | would not give SO
.lpa5le clew to 10y identity as that: |
ished to appear Like one who had dropped
for moment to asl, the hour or the loan
b late journal. raped at the shutters
at iEciosed the outer door, and waited in
tremor OF expectation: there was no
spouse. Again raped, and again waited
vain for q reply.
The shadows deepened in the grove:
thin light sifted down through the |
ayes and tell upon the doorstep in pale
SKIS that seemed to trenble with agita-
N and suspense. l grew uneasy, and
ared it was not wise OF ne to have |
me without announcement, and my heart
at heavily. l walked nervously to the
lie of the house and glanced in at the deep
W window; shadow crossed the room:
was Ellen's shadow, and unchanged,
ank God l knew she would not change
she was one whom time wearied not and I
II fretted not, but to whom all things
re alike welcome, inasmuch as they came 6
IN the Hand that can work no i'll.
returned to the study door and raped {
ain, and then grew suddenly much ex- 7
ed; l almost wished l had not summoned t
r sooE, but already | heard her step upon t
} carpet, her hand on the latch and the +
ltters swung apart. / strove to calm ny !
+ and ask carelessly if she were at home, j
Ell l thought l saw difference in the
IN and face before me: they were SO like a
rs, bat not hers. Had it been in my Il
yer to do go, would have turned at that o
ment aud gone out into the world Y
hout questioning any one; l would O
dly have avoided any revelation of a
that might have befalen that house.
d, aud gone on az before, thinking it v
2 well with them. But it was too late; r
the same instant We recognize one an- Il
er. a
Isit Emma | asked fearfull,y. n
You are not s,
n, yes, it was he who had promised ali {
sc years to come, and had come at last,
hen she added, 'You have come 700
:: Ellen left US one week ago
knew what that meant: il was the leav- d
that takes all along with it. and there f
!sins nothing but memory instead. 1t
: the leaving that lays bare the heart of l.
rts, and strikes blind and dumb the t.
nzed soul-the leaving and the leave "
ing that is all bitterness, call it by what e
1e you will-that makes weak the II
'ng and cOnfounds the wise. and strikes Il
or 10 the breast OF stone-the leaving a
oh is the leaving off of everything that "
"a md laar and faIri liar and 90 | II