The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-08-25
From Lppincott's for September
A Summer Evenings
Dream.
BY EDWARD BELLAMY,

It is village street, with great elms on
either side, while along the middle stands
another row set in narrow strip of grassy
common, so that the street and roadway are
in reality double. The dwellings on either
side are not only widely parted by the broad
street, but are still further isolated, each i'll
its large garden OF ancient fruit trees. 1t is A
O'Clock of sunny August afternoon, and
quiet, Sabbath-like but for its lazy voluptu-
BUSINESS, broods over the scene. No carriage,
or even pedestrian, has passed for an hour.
The occasional voices of children at play in
some garden, the latching of gate far down
the street, the dying note of drowsy chanti-
cleer, are but the punctuation OF the poem of
summer silence that has been flowing on all
the afternoon. Upon the tree tops the sun
b!azes brightly, and between their stems are
glimpses of outlying meadows, which simmer
in the heat as if about to come to a boil.
But the Swallowed street offers a cool and re-
freshlng vista to the eye and veritable valley
OF refuge to the parched and dusty traveller
along the highway:
On the broad piazza of one of the quaint
old fashioned houses, behind needless
screen OF climbing woodbine, two girls are
Willing away the afternoon. One Of them is
lounging in a lazy rocking chair, while the
other sits more primly and is industriously
sewing.
II suppose you'll be glad enough to see
George when he comes tonight to take you
back to the city? Pm afraid you find it
pretty dull here" said the latter with an in
tonation OF uneasy responsibility sufficiently
attesting that the brilliant looking girl oppo-
site was guest.
That young lady when addressed was in
dulging In luxurious country yawn, an op-
Grafton by no means to be hurried, but to be
fully and lazily enjoyed in all its several and
long-drawn stages, and as thus practiced
wonderfully calming and soporifc relaxation
wholly unknown to the fretted denizens of
cities, whose yawn is one Of irritation and
not OF rest. IL do so enjoy your Plainfeld
yawns, Lucy" she said when she had quite
finished. "Were you saying that it was a
little dull? Well, perhaps it is, but then the
trees and things seem to be enjoying them
selves so hugely that it would be selfish to
make fuss, even if it isn't exactly my kind
offun."
"Your kind of fun is due by the O'Clock
stage, believe"
The other laughed and said: ST wish YOU
wouldn't make another allusion to George.
think OF him so much that Pm ashamed as
it is. Pm sure this is very aggravating
place for an engaged girl to be at. One gets
SO dreadfnuy sentimental with nothing to take
up the mind, especially with such monstrous
moods as you have. got fairly frightened
OF the one last night. It drew me out
through my eyes like big plaster"
"Mabel Frenchv'
II don't care; it did. That was just the
feeling"
There was no hurry about talking, for the
rich, mellow summer silence had a body to it
that prevented pauses from seeming empty,
and II might have been half an hour afterward
that Mabel suddenly leaned forward, putting
her face close to the vine trelis, and cried in
Low voice: who's that? Do tell me!
They're the very first persons who have gone
by this afternoon, do believe"
A pretty phaeton was slowly passing, con-
tanning an elderly gentleman and lady.
"Oh, that is only Lawyer Morgan and old
MISS Rood, replied Lucy, just glancing up
and then down again. ''They go out driving
once week regularly and always at about
this time in the afternoon"
''They look like afternoon sort of people,"
said Mabel. "But why doesn't Lawyer Nor
gon take out his wife,
He hasn't got any, Miss Rood comes
nearest to that. Oh no, you needn't open
your eyes; there's not rroperer old maid in
ter"
..Are they relatives ?"
"No, indeed"
SLOW long has this Platonic romance been
going on, pray~
years, perhaps. 1 only know by tradition,
you see. 1t began ages before my day. They
say she was very pretty once. Old Aunt
Perkins remembers that she was quite the
belle OF the village as a girl. 1t seems strange
doesn't itT'
"Tell me the whole story" said Mabel,
turning round so as to face Lucy as the phae-
ton passed out of sight.
There's not much to tell. Mr.. Morgan
has always lived here, and so has Miss Rood.
He lives alone with housekeeper in that
fine house at the end of the street, and she
entirely alone in that little white house over
there among the apple trees. All the people
who knew them when they were young are
dead, gone away or moved of. They are
relics of past generation, and are really
about as much shut up to each other for SYM
pathy as an old married coupler
"Well, why on earth aren't they mar
rice? ''
People hereabouts got tired of asking that
full thirty years ago." replied Lucy with
little shrug, 'sEven the gossips long since
wore out the subject, and 1 believe We have
all of us forgotten that there is anything PEI
culiar about their relations. He calls on her
two or three times week, and takes her out
driving on pleasant days; escorts her to
places of amusement or social gatherings
when either of them care to 60, which isn't
often; and wherever they are people take it
for granted they will pair off together. He is
never seen with any other lady.'
"Its very strange" said Mabel thought
fully, "and Pm sure it's very romantic.
Queer old coupled wonder how they really
feel toward each other, and whether they
wouldn't like to be married?"
while after she suddenly demanded,
Don't You think Miss Rood looks like me?"
Lucy laughed at first, but upon closer in
spection of the fair questioner admitted that
there might be some such resemblance as the
shriveed apples brought up from the cellar
in spring bear to the plump, rosy-cheeked
beauties that went down in October.
If Mr.. Morgan and Miss Rood, as they rode
had CHANGED to overhear MabePs question
why they had not married, it would have
affected them very differently. He would
have been startled by the novelty OF an idea
that had not occurred to him in twenty
years, but the blush on her cheek would
have been one of painful consciousness.
AS boy and girl they had been each others
chosen companion, and as young man and
into reciprocal love. Thank to the free
dom and simplicity of village life, they en-
Joyed as lovers constant and easy famil-
iarity and daily association almost as COM
plete in sympathy of mind and heart as apy.
thing marriage could offer. They were never
even formally engaged, so wholly did they
LaKe IL Tor granted that they should marry.
1t was so much matter of course that there
was no hurry at all about it; and besides, so
long as they had it to look forward to, the
foreground of life was Illuminated for them;
1t was still morning. Mr.. Morgan was con-
stitutionally of dreamy and impractical
turn, creature of habits and victim of
ruts; and as years rolled on he became more
andsmore satisfied with these half-triendly.
halfloverlike relations. He never found the
time when it seemed an object to marry, and
now, for very many years, the idea had not
even occurred to him as possible; and so far
was he from the least suspicion that Miss
Rood's experience had not been precisely
similar to his own, that he often congratu.
lated himself on the fortunate coincidence.
Time cures much, and many years ago
Miss Rood had recovered from the first bitter
ness OF discovering that his love had become
insensibly transformed into very tender but
perfectly peaceful friendship. No one but
him had ever touched her heart, and she had
no interest In life besides him. Since she
was not to be his wife, she was glad 10 be his
lifelong, tender. selfsacrfcing friend. So