Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1875-07-17

| in sat by with pitilesS blue eyes, ant
u face as cold and lovely as if i
had been chiselled marble.
"Then I'll go.'
| He rose and shutflcd out of the
room, still holding his hat before
him, as if with an odd, confused
sort of notion that it might prove &
sort Of shield between him and the
cruel darts OF the world. He was
hungry, and could not but sea
through the glass doors Of the adj
joining apartment,th damask. .drap'
cd table, spread with preparations
for the evening meal, bur he had no
thought of asking for a crumb from,
tho ample feast. He was faint and
weary, and the velvet chairs and
low, pillowed sofas invited repose,
but he would have stood as long as
st. Simon Stylites, ere he would
have abandoned himself to their
blissful luxury. The sound of con-
temptOns laughter from the lips of
the widow and her daughter follow.
ed him into the hall, where purple
and gold and green shadows glim.
mered from the fan-lishts on the
mosaic marble floor, as he crept out
to the lawn, where the stretches of
velvet sward seemed to absorb the
mellow September sunshine, and the
strawberries all alive with yellow
butterflies. And not until he had
reached the rustic log bridge across
the noisy little trout stream, where
gnarled beech. h.tree made fantas.
tic fairy circle Of shade, did he give
way to the violence of his outraged
feelings, and sink sobbiug on the
fresh, cool grass, his flushed face
buried in his hands.
"Nobody cares for me ~ broke out
poor Luke. "Nobody's willin' to
help me live! Oh, l don't see why
[ was ever born"
There is sort Of romance about
a maiden who weeps; a sobbing
child is not without its charms, and
even to er-haired old-age subdued
tears has its majesty of pathos; but
an overgrown, red-haired boy, with
trOwserS and coat sleeves too short,
and red coarse Enthusiastically, one
could hardly blame Rebecca IVes-
10y for laughing, as she paused, one
foot among the ferns and grasses,
one poised lightly upon the edge Of
the bridge, and a basket on her
arm.
Rebecca had been to look for wild
grapes-Aunt Allstnn was a great
character for preserves, when the
raw material didn't cost her any
thing but the scratched hands and
weary feet of her 1iece-and was
returning with her basket filled with
bloomy purple stores, and her brown
treSses blown about into shining
confusion which all the crimi'ing
pins of Broadway couture could
never hope to rival. She was a
slight, hazel-eyed girl of sixteen,
with small, exquisite features, and
a skin which not even the vertical
sunbeams could render
ought but velvet soft.
1t was even as we have said. Re
becca burst out laughing, and Luke
started up, stung with the keenest
modification. That he should have
cried like great girl was bad
enough, but that this outburst of
grief should have been witnessed
and laughed at by a stranger! Luke
barley could almost have hidden
his shame beneath the cool, gurg-
ling waters of the broak, had it
been sufficiently deep.
"Oh, beg your pardon, Pm
surew cried Rebecca, as she saw,
with woman's quick tact, the NOR
tification she had caused. "I didn't
mean to hurt your feelings. Only
it acas so ridiculous"
"I dare say it was," said Luke
huskily. II en- ridiculous, and no.
body knows it better'n l do"
Rebecca stopped and looked him
keenly in the face.
"Are you sick ~
"No; but Pm discouraged"
"Whyi'
"You'd only laugh at me again if
l was fool enough to tell all my
troubles to a stranger" muttered
Luke, steadfastly eyeing the crown
of his hat.
"Indeed, indeed 1 wouldn IT,
pleaded Rebecca innocently. "Pm
so sorry l laughed. Please have
some grapes Z"