Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1881-05-17
IN A SHANTY.

Mr.. Alwade. this is Melth, the cook.
AS old Mrs Watson spoke thus brief
ly, Wallace Alwade turned partly
around, facing the small, delicate wo-
man who stood but partially revealed
in the shadows of the long, lOw-roo
shanty.
For one instant he stood gazing in.
tently into the pale face of the timid re
firing creature before him. then extend.
ed his hand, with polite bow and
pleasant word Of greeting.
Meth, the COOK
What thrill shot through his heart
at the mention of the name AS theil
hands clasped in the dim freight, and
he gaZsd down into the pale face of the
shrinking figure before him, Wallace
Alwade's mind grew troubled.
That face. SO thin and pail, with long
ing, regretful shadows lurking in the
violet eyes, touch a half forgotten chord
in his bachelor heart. 1t was but q
dreamy reflection of the past, however
He remembered where he was, and
turned away without thinking deeply.
1t was not likely that an almost forgot
tn dream would meet with fruition in a
place like this, dingy lumber shanty
in the heart of the great pine woods.
A minute later the jingle of sleigh
bells cut the frosty night air.
| We'll, Mrs, Watson, must be going,
said the lumber dealer, turning toward
the door.
Won't you stay all night, MIR. AL
wade
Impossible. my good woman. Ihave
important business to attend to in town.
find that your husband Is managing
of f.ir in ha b
| can safely trust him to 60 on with the
job
'Tattlers' tongues to the contrary,
eh?' returned the rosy faced matron,
with ri rippling laugh.
Yes, the stories / have heard are all
| false, Mrs. Watson, 1 shan't trouble
myself about these flying stories again,
| rest assured
Thank you, Mr.. Alwade. My hus-
band shall know of your generosity
Facts are stubborn things returned
Alwade The job is progressing we'll
under Mr.. WatsOn's management, and
am only too glad to place the credit
where it belongs
Thus speaking the rich lumberman
left the room and entered the sleigh that
stood waiting at the door.
Speed over the glistening snow, under
the tall pines, with the keen winter air
cutting like knife, Wallace Alwade
felt strangely invigorated at contact
with the close air of the lumber shanty.
That evening, after reaching his room,
Alwade found time for reflection. The
face of Meth, the COOK pale, worn,
and timid, haunted him once more, like
the dim memory Of half-forgotten
dream. Why did he give the pale faced
| shanty cook second thought? Simply
because this was not the first time he
had seen that face. In pondering ever
the subject, Alwade came suddenly in
to full knowledge why he had been
strangely affected at meeting Melth.
A vision of the long ago was before
him. Hestood under the gaslIght plead
ing for the love of as beautiful girl as
the sun ever shone on. He could see
the naughty curl of the full red lips, see
the scOrnful flash of those violet eyes,
and even feel the sting of the words
that fell from the maiden lips, refusing
him, laughing to scorn all his passion
ate pleadings; and all because he was
but poor law student without name or
fortune in the world. His hopes were
crushed forever. He went out into the
world with bitter pain in his heart,
yet unable even to conquer the love that
had mastered him SO utterly.
That was twelve years ago; twelve
painful years to- Wallace Alwade. Out
West, under the shadows of the Michi-
gan pines, he had built up fortune,
and stood one of the foremost men in
the strong, vigorous young State where
our story is located. For twelve years
he had heard nothing of Meltha Bayne.
Was it wonderful, then, that he did not
recognize in Meth, the cook the self
willed, imperious beauty, who had
scorned him in his youth.
After hours of thought he was fully
satisfied. 1t could not be that Meltha
Bayne bad fallen so low as this, cook
in one of his logging shanties!