Arizona weekly enterprise., 1882-10-14
A MODERN LOVE STORY.
BY MARIE HAZEN.

BY MARIE HAZEN.
 They were standing under the old trees in the orchard-Paul Woodward and Mamie Rivers. They had stood thus many time before, listening to the babble of the brook that flowed mer- rily along; but to-day. the brook rippled in vain, and the sun stole in and out, making tricksy shadows of the leaves; kissing Nan's dainty cheeks, and even peeping impertinently under the gypsy hat in search of the laughing brown eyes, without reproof, for the brown eyes were just now filled with tears, and were, moreover, bent consistently upon the grass at her feet, taking no note of the saucy liberty.
 ''So it's good-by, is it, Nan?''
 "Yes, Paul."
 A long silence. Paul placed an arm possession of the little brown, dimpled hand.
 .'Nanm
 No answer.
 Mamie! Mamie, my darlingr'
 Do go away, Paul! There is no use in teasing mer'
 The brown eyes quite overfowed, the rosy mouth was set, and an obstinate frown disfgured the sweet young face. Il will go, certainly, if you wish it, Man." said the young man, falling back a step or two, and lifting his head lit tie proudly. II will go-but if I do, re- member it is for good. will not be played fast and loose with; am not the man to spend half lifetime signing at any woman's feet"
 Then, softening again.
 Are you sure-quite sure-that you wish this separation? Are you quite de- termined to leave this quiet, peaceful life, exchange this calm independence for such life as you will surely lead in your uncle's house in town?"
 The girl lifted her head and tossed back the waving brown hair from the defiant little face
 'I am determined to leave this hum- drum life and work out some path for myself, Paul." she said. ''I know I shall miss you-I know l shall be home sick and weary-I know it all; but am determined to try"
 "Then there is no more to be said" And the young man picked up his some- what battered straw hat, placed it firm ly on his sunny head, and without an- other word marched proudly away.
 Poor Nan! In spite of the valor of resolution of her seventeen years, her heart failed her as she watched him rapidly disappear among the trees of the orchard. Of all the people who lived in the world he loved her best Nan knew this; knew, too, that what he had said was true. No woman could play with his heart; break it she might; but trample it under foot-never
 If Paul had been just a little less proud, he might have won her then.- Had he but turned back through the waving corn and taken command If the little rebel with the strong mastery of his deep love, she would have surrend- cred gladly. The parting was harder than she thought. and already in her secret soul she was wishing he would not let her go, even while she vowed she would not remain. But he did not return. The sun dipped behind the western hills, the late birds flew home to their cosy nests and downy little ones, and Nan, with cold, numb dread upon her, crept back to the old farm house and the old grandparents she was so soon to leave.
 There was nothing new in her story only tale that is told again and again A pretty country girl, with an active brain and restless spirit, struggling against the barriers that hedged in hel life. A foolish, unwise little head, con fused and dazzled by the far-away gilt ter of town life. A faithful lover, mis prized-all blessings, all comforts dwarfed in contrast with the magnifieC excellence of an unknown existence. Beauty, grace and ability are, after all, but comparative. The attainment that seem so admirable in the home circle grow pitifully insignificant unde the cold, critical glance of an uninter ested public; and beauty-honest, simpl beauty-must be extraordinary ant wonderful to stand much chance agains & little nature and a great deal of art we'll applied.
 The average person will judge o beauty, and talent, too, by the loudnes of their demand for recognition. Tn glare of a gaudy leaf, the glistenin; ] plumage of brilliant bird, will awakel from their lethargy of indifference large number of people, who straight way declare themselves to be earnes admirers of nature, while to all he countless delicate attractions they tur blind eyes. And the grace and wort that knocks at the portals of a careles world clothed in modesty and timidity 'e will stand long in weary waiting.
 Native grace stiffens into angular ue Illness under blazing lights and searcE ing eyes; and the gentle sweetness of soft voice is drowned quite in the roa of large towns. And so our little hero inc discovered. The voice with whic her fortune was to be made, which ran out with a clearness and sweetness ths rivalled the birds in the dear old woo at home, sounded thin and sharp in th curtain-hung, furniture-filled parlors (