The Canton advocate. [volume] (Canton, D.T. [S.D.]) 1877-1897, 1878-05-14

itatiyely, :" whether you like them ol
not. Redolette--" He paused; he wa
going to say, Redolette, darling" bu
he restrained, for the sake of solemnity
his boyish warmth. Redolette, how
old are your
| She folded her hands in her lap, and
looked down like a child at school called
to the recitation bench,
~ shall be sixteen the fifth of next
month" @ z
"Sxteen! And what do you know p
Redolette laughed. ~ know t.at." n
Willie knew that, too. "Sweet six.
teen, sweetest sixteen" he said in his
heart.
"He asked her, gravely, "Where have
you been at SCHOOL,"
g went fer some time to DR.. ks
class at q, but have not been the
last three terms. Judge Hunt does not
believe in schooling for girls. Just now
| am taking lessons in housekeeping of
my aunt. | stitch shirt bosoms every
day; four threads of linen forward and
three threads back, the regular old fash
Toned way. sew and cook and bake"
"You bake!" repeated Willie, indig-
nantly. =
cor sometimes / fry. 1t depends
upon whether it is doughnuts or bread.
| would rather fry than bake; it is more
exciting"
81 should think SO, indeed Why,
Redolette, these are the tortures of the
Inquisition for you. Fry and bake!
They might as well roast you at the
stake. Of course these things have to
be done. We must have shirt bosoms
and bread, and it isright that you should
learn how to do them, or how to have
them done; but-spend your life atsuch
tasks! The idea is absurd We might
as well harness doves to drays, or burn
rose-buds in our CRATES. Every work
has its own workers. My dear child,
there are two rules for practical life
first the greater must not be sacrificed
to the less, and second" Here Willie
was going to quote Carlyle at length,
but he recollected that he was talking to.
a girl, and he modified the grand SEN
fences of the philosopher ending in,
" Know what thou canst work at" into,
:" And you should do, Rodolette, what
you can do best. Now if you can really
do nothing better than cook, then that is
your work. But in this age of the world
you are not forced; you can have choice;
and you must remember that we are liv-
ing in the time of sewing machines and
scientific cooks. There is no need of
immolation in those departments of la
Dor. We are living in a time" Willie
hesitated in the midst of his elequence,
Hurried by little thing, a very little
thing; just the touch Of his hand by
Redolette's-an action softly, shyly
done, but causing him to descend from
his speech to look into her face. He
paused for a moment, enchanted by the
serious sweet gaze of her dark eyes
fixed upon his. But he recovered him
self and went on: "Do you know what
age OF the world you belong to, Redo
lette? You have nc right to go back to
all age that you were not born in; you
have no right to marry man who be-
longs exclusively to that age, and avail
yourself of nothing that has occurred
since in the great march of progress.
You can 60 back if you desire it. You
are free; you live in free land. But
# you do not desire it, if you feel that
there is something in you higher than
life of drudgery, unlighted by liberty
that makes drudgery divine unlighted
by love-and oh! Redolette, you do not
know what you are reiinquishing when
you relinquish the possibility of love
ii you feel a stir in your pulse that beats
with what is highest and nearest true in
the time we live in, darling Redolette 1"
(this time the emphasis was laid with
sufficient stress to compensate for the
former restraint), "then | would die
thousand deaths rather than see you
met in these woods by selfish soul,
like Red Riding-hoed by the wolf, and
lured into a matched hut, and 'eaten
up, with no ear to hear your poor inno-
cent cry Of Oh, what big eyes you've
got!' and. sOh, what sharp teeth you've
got!"
Willie was excited now. He frighten-
ed Redolette. She sprang up before him
with low cry-a genuine cry of pain,
like a hurt child. A sudden pallor swept
her face; the paleness as of woman's
pang swept her childish face. U
Then Willie took her in his arms, and
called her his precious love, and soothed
her with his tenderness, as he had
aroused her with his wrath. And then
and there, in the mountain solitude, wit
messed only by lonely height and lonely
wood and lonely earth and sky, he made
her make one solemn promise.
Not the promise that his heart burned
to have her make. For what he wished
so ardently, that nothing "before or
after could compare in ardor with that
hours wish, was to make her promise to
be his wife. He reminded himself that
he had no right to do this. He was a
yonngg fellow not yet graduated from
college; and after his senior year, just
commenced, there lay beforeh him course
Of professional study, and then the es-
tabiishing OF his PROFESSIONS practice,
for his patrimony was by no means COM
mensurate with his wants. He had no
right to ask her yet.
He only made her grant promise
formed disinterestedly and exclusively
for her good.
by this time the sun hadset. Shadows
mingled with shadows. The air gather
ed that strange pure cool which seems to
blend and at the same instant define the |
precious woodland scents. The soft rus
tie OF leaves, the twitterof sleepy birds,
the faint crashing sough Of the long /
rank bent" as they entered the fields, /
the infnitesmal fine yet clear sounds of |
i5ae summer night ra pednot unmusically I
by the tiny sharp cries and beating hum
81 the insect world-these were the vocal
aecompaniments of the homeward way,
Tor Redoiette and Willie hardly spoke. /
Clasping each others hands they went
down the rocky sleeps, and across the
home
And at the garden gate he kissed her