Mexico weekly ledger., 1882-08-24
A LONG PARTING.

A LONG PARTING.
elbow handsome he is," thinks Daisy,
as she leans over the rustic fence watch
ing the mower as with long sweeps of
bis sythe he cuts down the swaths of
grass. 81 really believe that q man
looks better in the toughest of clothes
than in those stiff immaculate garments
they call 'dress-suits' is if he is
good-looking at ALL"
1t is only this morning that Daisy
has come to the country, to revel in its
bracing air for the first time in her
young life.
"Where are your roses, pet?" her
father had asked her one day, few
weeks before, waking from his business
plans to notice the pale listless look of
his child
Il think 1 want quiet papa. l am
tired of dressing, calling, and parties.
Papa, may not 60 to the country-to
my old nurse's-instead of to the Branch
this summer!'
And Mr.. Nelson had answered yes.
II would like to come with you, but
business will not allow of it. So, enjoy
yourself all you can, my pet, and write
me very often.''
And with these words, kissing her af-
fectionately, he had left her in Farmer
Shears care, who was waiting her ar
rival at the small station. Farmer
Shears wife had been Daisy's foster
| mother, caring for her ever since her
mother on her death-bed, calling her
weeping housekeeper to her, and laying
her child in her arms, had said:
''You have served me faithfully, Su-
san, and know you will be kind to my
baby"
And well that trust had been fulfilled.
The first great grief Daisy had ever ex-
perienced had come to her when, two
years before our story opens, her kind
nurse had left her for home of her
own, offered her by worthy farmer.
who recognized in her just the sensible
qualities his farm needed in a mistress.
1t is two O'Clock; dinner has been
over couple of hours. and since then
Daisy has been luxuriating in the wild
flowers and thousand and one delights
new to her city bred eyes. For the past
ten minutes she has been Watching the
mower at his work. She knows that he
is Farmer Shears nephew, for she met
him at dinner; but she only gave him
the most casual observation then, and
now she notices, for the first time, how
more than averagely fine-looking he is.
She thinks herself unseen; but she is
not, for pair of amused dark eyes are
watching her furtively as she peeps
through the only partially concealing
screen of wild-rose vines that trail about
! her feet, and, clambering upward, fling
their scented arms high over her head,
making charming frame for charm
ing picture. A great red lily lifts its
tinted chalice in the centre of the mead.
ow; the sunlight touches it and makes
it such thing of beauty that Daisy
longs to possess it. But the scythe with
its measured strokes is nearing its slen-
der stem.
"Oh don'tr
The exclamation is involuntary, and
Daisy f1ushes crimson as the mower
glances up as if just conscious of hel
presence.
1.-The lily" she says, in answer to his
questioning look. Thought you were
going to cut it down, and it is so pref
ty."
Permit me-"
! 1t is the action of a moment 10 pluck
1t and present it to her, and, As he does
so, Daisy wonders as much ct the young
mans easy unembarrassed manner and
refined tones as she did at the comeli-
ness and grace of his appearance.
That was how it began, the summer
idyl that was destined to have such an
| abrupt ending. Both young, both inl-
| pulSive, what wonder that the more
these two saw of each other the stronger
! grew the charm that drew them to-
| gether
Mrs. Shears looked on unsuspicious-
ly; it pleased her genial heart to see
| 'the children" as she called them, en-
| joying themselves; and so the summer
hours flew all too swiftly by. At length
came day when, all through an acci-
| dent in which, by the falling of a tree,
| Steven Haughton nearly lost his life, the
| thin veil which the saucy boy-god had
hean rearino called friandshin fell aside
and his true face became disclosed, and
with sense almost of fear, Daisy awoke,
| as from dream, to see whittier she had
been drifting.
"Can it really be that care for him
this young farmer whom few months
ago did not know"
Then she questioned her heart, and
its answer came quickly:
sAh yes, do! do!''
| And Steven, lying in his room with
his broken arm in sling, felt happier
| than king. Never to his dying day
would he forget the look of anguish that
he had read in the lovely face his eyes
had rested upon when they had opened
| from the unconsciousness that the dread
full stunning blow had brought.
''She loves mer' he thought triumph
antly; s'and before long, please God, 1
shall hear her sweet lips say so.''
But it was not to be, for it so happened
that the young man had just arisen from
his bed of pain and resumed the role of
a convalescent. when Mr.. Nelson came
to spend few days with his daughter.
1t was but short time before, with
keenness of vision for which he con-
| graduated himself, he saw how matters
were. He noticed how the blood rushed
to the young mans pale cheeks when
ever Daisy addressed him, and how an
answering light sprung into the maiden's
blue eyes.
''This will never do," he thought to
himself, in positive alarm. "My Daisy
farmers wife-or rather drudge? The
idea is preposterous! How foolish 1
was ever to allow the child away from
me. But after all it is not beyond rem
| edy. He has not spoken to her, know,
| for she would have told me. Twill take
her home at once. Once away from his
society the danger will be over.'
Poor little Daisy! She acquiesces un-
| questioningly to her fathers sudden
mandate of departure, as what else can
she do? She well knows what the feel
ing is that throbs with her every pulse
for Steven, but though his admiration
has been plainly evidenced, no words of
love have been spoken, and when she
sees how quietly, almost coldly, he an
swers her farewell, her warm young
heart chills. And the years pass, and
| yet it does not awake from that chill.
| In vain does her anxious father, in
/ wardly remorseful for what he recog-
nizes as his own doing, crafty. before
it is spoken, every desire; nothing brings
back the old happy girlish animation.
At length they 60 away, Mr.. Nelson
fondly hoping great results from the
change of scene and surroundings.