Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-05-15
NO. 119.
Gales ano skettbes.
GARNET GRAY'S FLIRTING.
BY MAY HAMILTON.

| remember very well the balm and
beauty of that Indian summer afternoon
the purple haze settling like royal gar
ment over the hill top, the sunny slope of
meadow land stretching away to the deep
dim forest, whore the graceful naples
were flinging ont their gorgeous banners,
scarlet, green and gold: and the warm
trulty fragrance the sweet south wind bore
up from my rare old orchard, rich in
ripened treasure. Great yellow pears,
with u flavor like Moselle wine: apples
red on the rnd and sound to the core;
blushing, velvety peaches ready to burst
with luscious ripeness. If | had a weak
ness it was for hearing the comments Of
certain masculine fruit growers of my
neighborhood, as they stood casting envi-
onS eyes at the basket OF my finest speci-
mems occupying prominent place in the
Horticultural Exhibition.
This is fine property of yours, Miss
West, very fine property and you man
age it like a man, old Doctor Mash said to
me, one morning pausing under my load
ed grape vines What higher commenda-
ton could mortal woman crave. Lonely
old maid that was, | could not after that
feel that my life had been in vain.
But the matchless October afternoon of
which write, stepped in sunshine dipped
in harvest bloom, so sultry that threw
the windows wide open. and, dressing for
dinner, changed my cashmere wrapper for
Il crisp white muslin scattered over with "a
unique pattern of tiny tufted feathers Of
vivid scarlet, like the pumage of some
tropical bird. don't know how | came
to search out that dress from the depths of
the great wardrobe. remember, ah how
well, the first and only time had worn it !
The perfume yet lingering in its folds sug-
gested a curving line of seashore shining
like powdered silver under the yellow Au-
gust moon. sweet, wild waltz stirring
the dewy air with thrills ofmaddest melody
and deeper voice than the summer seas,
sweeter than the throbbing waltz, telling
an old story over again in my. ear. just
one foolish moment | stood living it over
agan-the moonrise like music, and John
Edworth's 5 voice. Then turning suddenly
to my toilet table, caught the glimmer of
a gray hair threading itself along my hair
brush, and the picture faded, showing only
an old maid who lived alone with her SER
wants and managed her property like
man.
Rachel Brown came pattering up stairs
Just then, to say that dinner was ready, and
ask whether She should make sponge cake
or Jelly tarts for tea. | started guiltily
and said ''Yes, certainly" and that best
of living creatures went away without 4
word. as is her way to do when am in
one of my absent minded moods. She
never bothers me in the least.
did everything | could think of to
amuse myself and while away that long.
bright afternoon, but my customary re-
sources seemed somehow to fail me
strangely read till my eyes ached,
darned, with needless precision. some
delicate hose never intended
to wear again. and dozen more
such nonsensical things as will do some
times to cneat an hour of heart t-ache, even
to pulling down my hair, dressing it over
in new and unbecomiug fashion, tying it
so tight could hardly shut my eyes. But
| grew weary at last of making goose of
myself, and hunted up little white sacque
| had commenced one day out of compass
sion for'my poor shoulders. always chilly
of Il morning-true there are breakfast
, shawls, but hate them. they fetter ones
arms so.
The Silken wreath of convolvul grew
rapidly, until the last stitch was set, and
then of course, hastened to try it on be-
Il fore the glass. One glance at myself in
white cashmere was quite enough, and
crammed it out Of sight confident that |
, knew at last exactly how should look if
were dead and dressed to be seen Then
went to the window and leaned out, re-
, solving to give my laZiness an airing and
en- Joy the d0iee tdI HicHte to the utter
most.
The cars were in, the engine Just steam
I ing from the little French-roofed depot to
their final destination ten miles further on.
for Fotc>tnook was only way station.
There seemed to be but one passenger for
our little village, a slight female, who
stood Il moment looking vacantly about
her and then started rapidly and some
what unsteadily to walk down the dusty
road bounded on one side bv nv garden
wall. She walked so rapidly and with
such a nervous. hurried way. that |
watched her curiously till corner of
house hid me from her
4 The woman in gray | said aloud,
turning from the window; what pity
Wilkie Collins isn't here to see her.
The opening and shutting OF the iron
gate came to my ear Just then, and Won
dered if Rachel had remembered to close
the parlor blind, before going up to her
afternoon >lumbers, for had been eating
pears by the window after dinner and
, came away leaving costly gold fruit
knife careles5ly behind me. Then Tiger
barked and Il step too quick and light tor
Rachel Brown came over the stairs and |
looked up to see the woman in gray stand
b inc inside my chamber door
Madam" :" | almost screamed in sharp,
quick surprise.
She put up her little mgloved hand
then, SO pititully, 50 imploringly, that
shall never forget the pathos of that mo-
ton to the last day OF my life The other
. hand seemed holding some treasured par
eel lightly under her shawl
~ on are Woman-your surroundings
lead me to believe you happy and fortu-
nate one As You deal with me now, so
may God one day deal with you;" she
said in voice the most touching ever
heard, her great purple eyes searching
mine.
viewed my singular guest for an in