The Portland daily press., 1883-06-11

In few days Louisa said good bye to her
friends, alice, now a tall, hard ONE young
lady, weeping profusely, and turned her
feet towards home--"Home, dearest and
sweetest place in the world after all, she
thought.
Every thing seemed unchanged. Her
parents, robust as ever, were oyerjoyed az
her return, aud very proud OF the daughter,
grown from an angular girl into a graceful
and exceedingly beautiful woman.
"How is John Andrewsa" she asked the
first evening.
20, John Is WE'LL, but somehow he isn't
SO smart as We all thought he'd be. Yonr
father is dreadful disappointed in him; he
goes looking kind of slack, and they say he's
going to marry Emily Jones after ALL Pm
thankful you didn't have him."
Poor Louisa; how glad she would have
been If her mother had held similar opinions
years ago, but now, her condemnation rous-
ed Louisa's resentment. 81 can not think
John is slovenly," she said.
well, you can judge for yourself" re-
turned her mother, indifferently, 81 told
him you were coming home, and of course,
he'll CALI
But three weeks passed aud he did not
call. He had stayed away from church Sun
days and from the weekly prayer meetings
since her return. Could il be that he would
not open his wounds afresh by the sight OF
his old love, or was he avoiding her because
his heart had turned traitor to the Old time?
AT last, she proposed to accompany her
mother on her weekly trip TO his store
There she would be sure to see him and she
would learn the irwin. As they drove
through the familiar woods, Louisa was un-
usually silent, she was thinking of her boy
lover, and plainly there arose sad, hand
some face, with large honest eyes full of
love for her. She should soon see him and
her heart beat fast at the thought.
He stood outside the door lifting huge
sack from the farm wagon that stood there.
"a modern Samson" she thought sadly,
noting his great strength. John" she
called softly.
He stopped short, his face flushing scarlet
at sight of her, and, looking more inclined
| to run, he came forward with slow, heavy
| gait holding out his hand.
Poor Louisa! The handsome, boyish face
had grown stolId fleshy, the good humored,
happy look had subsidized into au expression
| of contented dizziness. There was no senti-
| ment, there no lingering thought of the old
| time; she knew that before one word had
| been spoken.
They conversed on orthodox subjects a few
moments, Louisa realizing all the time that
| the John of her memory and of her hopes
was forever ueau 10 her, ana tnen with more
alacrity than he had yet shown, he turned to
help a new conner from her wagon,
| 1t was Emily Jones, who, casting asnsplc-
ious look at Louisa, and determined to show
her 'twas too late for her now, Forthwith
| proceeded to whisper long and lovingly with
John, according to local custom among
young people who "were paying attention
| to each other.
| Plying his embarrassment, Louisa hur.
ried her mother in her bargaining and sbeat-
ing down." and they soon took their leave,
to the evident relief of the triumphant Emil
| ly.
| snow, don't he look slack?" her mother
asked. .'He always has that old Cardigan
| jacket on, and he never wears collar from
| one years end to another"
| 81 did not notice his clothes, but he has
changed great deal,' was the sad reply.
| When Howard Endieott visited her in
June, she told him of the delusion she had
| been under.
| 81 knew 1t all the time," he said quietly
shut l wished you to find out for yourself.
| But Louisa wished she had said yes, to
him at first, and lived under the delusion
| all her life, for if the dream were foolish,
| the awakening was cruel