Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1883-02-10
A CHARMING SKETCH.
ONE AFTERNOON.


81 presume" said the minister's wife, "you
love Ida as though she was your own child"
forebOding Of age stuck to Marcia's heart.
as she gathered in the chill with which the inno-
cent remark seemed shivering. It seemed to
her she turned old in an instant, as though her
face fell into wrinkles and an impress as Of the
faded leaf set Its stamp upon her. The sunlight,
fiuttering like wing upon the wall, took
shade less of gold; and all the world darkened
just so much. as in the slight moment of pause
Marcia accepted her position, and decided with
pang to be no longer young.
81 can imagine" she answered, lust az the
minister's wife looked up in surprise at the
little piece of silence that had dropped down
between them-''I can imagine" said Marcia.
show one must, perforce, love an own child,
though that joyous fountain of pure water has
dubbed unseen and untasted throughout nv
life. No; do not love Ida dear enough she Is
to me, as l suppose would child of my own"
The minister's wife went home and in dis
Greet confidence asked Of the minister what
provision there might possibly be in the next
world for an old maid whose heart was filled
with children.
After her visitor had gone Marcia went
through the house, looking for the young girl
Ida. The rooms were very dainty and very
pleasant, but to the mistress in her new mood
tney seemed q tribe still and prim.
''Well," she sighed softly, sit all partakes of
me, suppose. Strange that my eyes should
be made to open so suddenly! l should have
wished the knowledge to steal upon me grad
ually and gently. so that might have accus-
toned myself to the truth, without this shock"
Wherever she found reminder of Ida. there
she thought something bright and youthful
livened and beautiied the rooms; while her own
hat hanging in the hall. the chair she sat in her
wOrk-basket on the stand seemed suggestive of
her own older self. 1t was not pleasant thus to
realize the truth, but to this point must we all
come at last.
Stepping out upon the low and wide veranda.
Marcia could see Ida coming up the Swallowed
walk, looking very young now that Marcia felt
the lack OF youth; she noticed how young and
how sweet. Coming so out of the distance, her
step. though slow, seemed elastic and full Of
life. and she made pretty picture. Her skirts
were light and airy, f1eecy drapery half fell,
half chung around her shoulders. aud the droop-
Ing brim OF her hat just allowed glimpse of
her sunny hair By her side walked their neigh
Dor, Herman France, and 1da's eyes were cast
down toward the roses in his hand never once
lifting to meet his frank yet somewhat dreamy
gaze.
pang was thrust again through Marcia and
she wondered that she should just be regretting
her loneliness, when she had the knowledge
pressed home upon her that she was quite beyond
such gallant attention. The two were doubt
less born for each other. and the solitary woman
ON the vine-clmbed veranda was quick to con-
tess how well they walked together, how har-
monOus they seemed, and what pleasing con-
trast they offered
by and by they will marry" sOliloquized
Marcia; land what more natural or more to be
desired? Then shall be truly alone again, and
perhaps had better indulge myself in little OF
that travel which has been like the thread of
dream running through my life. Now that am
growing Old must take my travel or l shall
never have it. l had better have taken it
younger, perhaps. as it is, for old bones are
weary bones. and they like resting better than
wandering"
Marcia was doing a dreadful thing when she
cut herself loose from youth In this way; but the
trouble was that, in contrast with the fresh,
glrlish bloom OF Ida. she felt her outside body
must seem old and worn, and that she was
bound i'll duty to age her spirit also.
All unconscious that Marcia stood concealed
Dy the vines. the couple strOlled up the rose
bordered path, and Marcia exaggerated to her
self the appearance of interest they seemed to
have In each other.
'Let US stay out here" said Mr. France
Every breath is a luxury among these vines on
such perfect afternoon
He took off his straw hat as he smoke and
Marcia saw for the hundredth time how white
and how broad his forehead was. but she had
peculiar notice for his manly strength of feature
and outline to-day. She admired him more than
she had ever done till now.
"All lovers make such excuses" she muir
INJURED. ''He cares nothing whatever about the
luxurious air. He simply wants to be alone
with Ida, and he Is afraid they will meet me if
they come into the house."
Ida's laugh was like little rill of music as
she twirled her lOng-stemmed roses and re-
piled:
'One may have duties. you know; which for
bid yielding to temptation. l ought to be
practicing this moment. Mr.. France instead of
idly putting appendices to our walk in this
way"
Nevertheless, she swung her skirts lightly
round and sat down on the lowest STEP cross
ing her pink wrists. and flashing up at her COM
paniOn through her eyelashes one of those swift
and daring glances in which innocent girlhoOd
often betrays its innocence.
81 can only imagine you as playing at duty"
he answered lightly. ''Surely you were made
to do just what pleases you No musteyer ought
to come into your life. little one"
II don't fancy being called little one,'" an
swered Ida, half pOuting. ''Its too patrOnizing
and too tender-a great deal too tender"
she is right" thought Marcia, determinedly
1T is eminenty proper she should keep him at
distance. When she is my age, she will see
how right she is"
lit is so easy to shock a very young persons
sense OF propriety by hurting her dignity" he
laughed. Now when you are old, say as old
as Marcia and /. you will have no pride of dig
nifty. and you will wonder how at seventeen you
could have put much stress On the term little
ONE see now, 1 am Twice your age. am
thirty-fOur and yet l abate the natural superb
ority OF my years. and will ask you to be so
friendly as to call me by my first name when you
speak to me. Will you call me Hermann"
Good gracious" calculated Marcia. under
her breath. The request seemed to her almost
as equivalent to a proposal; but not so Ida
That young lady responded very compOsedly:
''Why, yes; Marcia and 1 always do call
you Herman when We speak of you to each
other"
Marcia shuddered in her lair at this BETRAYAL;
but In spite of the frankness of her speech, Ida
seemed filled with quick notions akin to
coqnettishness. She played with her roses, her
color coming and going with her breath, her
head dropped in a half-bashful pose; and now
her shoulders seemed prominent to her, now
her elbows, now her feet, and she recognized
each in It's turn. Marcia was not well ac-
quainted with young girls, and she accused
this one Of Misunderstanding" Then she
wondered how she could have developed such
feeling against Ida, and berated herself as q
''hOrrid old maid"
Il never knew just your relationship to Mar
Cha, unused Herman, after little pause.
mot any real relationship at ALL" returned
Ida. warmly. 'My father was only her step
brother, and that makes 1t seem the kinder of
her to make me so welcome here, doesn't it?"
should have no home were 1t not for Marcia
you see never could say Aunt Marcia, because