The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-12-08
JUSfINE,s FOLLY.

OF the scent OF maiden fern anu ueau
leayes-and Justine Conway, leaning
against the fence, would have reminded
an artist of some impossible dream, in
her scarlet hood and futtering rings Of
pale gold hair. She had face like Helen
of Troy, fair, spirited, perfect in every
line and curve-a figure light and lis
some as the slender silver birches which
we're even now whispering to one an
other in the woods And yet this lovely
Young creature was no millionaire's
daughter, no descendent of blue blooded
aristocrats, but simply New England
working girl. For there was great
Rubber Factory" on the brawling little
stream which performed such foaming
gymnastics through the woods, and n
hundred girls worked daily there, mostly
congregated from the little towns and
farm houses around Chestney Falls.
Justine Conway was working girl,
and Mr.. Fontanel was her affianced
lover. But we know that the stream of
true love never does run smooth, and it
was quite evident, from the expression
of both their faces, that all was not right
between them.
"Why shouldn't go?" said Justine,
with an ominous flush on her cheek.
''There is no reason to the contrary"
said Fontanel, "unless l might adduce
the very trihing one that I disapprove
entirely of the expedition"
But why?" pleaded Justine:
Partly because this moonlight party
up to the Mountain Ridge is decidedly
miscellaneous in its make-up--"
""That is oil nonsense" flashed out
Justine. "They are factory girls like
myself-and the young men from Brew
er's Wooden Mills"
"And," went on Mr.. Fontanel, scarcely
noticing her excited plea, "the hour of
starting on Saturday night is so late that
you can scarcely help breaking the holy
Sabbath day upon your return
"Of course we must wait for moon
RISE" argued Justine. "And don't see
any more harm in driving along road
of Sunday morning than in walking
along it to church"
Don't yeup'
ono" she asseveratcd.
"Then," he said, quietly, sit is quite
plain that our ideas and principles differ
widely. And"
"Now, Frank, speak the truth" said
Justine, with flashing eyes and crimsoned
cheeks, land say that it is your mother
who disapproves of me. mot yourself. She
is a strict old Puritan, a narrow -natured
bigot- and you are quite right in think
ing that we never could get along to
gether?"
He came closer to her and held out
both his hands.
Dear Justine" said he, 1--WE love one
another. Do not let us allow such tritie
as this moonlight expedition to part us.
You will give it up-for my sake?"
But she shook here sunshiny head,
across which the level glory of the dying
day seemed to lay glittering scepter of
gold at the same instant.
~ will give it up for no ones sake,
said she. And, turning, she futtered
away through the woods, bright bit Of
color, which vanished presently. And
the sun went down and the belt OF woods
seemed to grow gray, and the far-of muir
muir of Chestnut Falls seemed to turn
into dirge.
Mr.. Fontanel went slowly down the
road.
perhaps it is best he thought.
"These constant jangles can end in no
good. If once she were my wife, think
l could learn her to think as l think
but now she is exposed to thousand jar
ring influences, and is so young and in
experienced, poor love; yes, perhaps it
is best"
But the heart-wound smarted bitterly.
even while he strove to console himself
with this system of philosophy.
He don't care for me" said Justine,
with the tears sparkling in her eyes, and
a certain sense of suffocation ut her heart.
"An1 that cross old dragon OF mother
of his hates me-Tm quite sure OF that.
l will be free little longer-and Frank
Fontanel may marry whom he likes"
But Justine Conway did not enjoy the
moonlight ride as much as she thought
she should. The girls laughed too loud
tie Jokes of the young cavaliers from
the wooden mills fell like so much idle
cackle on her ears. She sat in her corner
of the great straw-lined omnibus, with
her shawl wrapped closely around her,
and thought she should never reach her
home. The moon shone radiant and
round overhead, like a shield of pearl
the autumn leaves rustled mysteriously
on either side of them, and the clock OF
some distant church spire chimed out the
hour of two.
Sunday morning" thought Justine
and she Involuntary shrank away from
the sound of the comic ballad which one