Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1883-09-21
Ware people, and consequently could
neither talk nor listen to much pur-

mn object of scrutiny she did not show It, |
Her ewes never flashed up and met mine
fixed upon her with suddcnness start
ling and embarrassing to both OF us. |
could stare mt her us guilelessly and pro-
perly as could at flower.
Indeed, Miss Nlunson did make ne
think of flower and of one prevalent III
her front yard, too-a lilac there was
the same dull bloom about her, and shy.
antiuuatcd grace. A lilac always does
seem little older tEnn some other How
ers. Miss Munson, come to see her, was
probably nearer 30 than 40. There were
little lines and shadows iii her face that
one could not discern across the street
Ii seemed to me that she must have been
very lovely in her youth, with that sort
of loneliness which does not demand at
tention, but holds it with no effort. An
exquisite, delicate young creature, she
ought to have been, and had been, unless
her present appearance told lies.
Lilac seemed to be her fnvorltc color
for gowns, for she wore that afternoon II
delicious old-fashioned lilac muslin that
looked us if it had been laid away III law
cnder every winter for the last thirty
wears. The waist was cut surplicc FASH
ion, and she wore dainty lace handker-
chief tucked into it. Take it altogether,
| suppose / never spent pleasantcr al
ternoon i'll my life, although it was pleas
ant in quiet, uneventful sort of way.
There was an atmosphere of gentle grace
and comfort about everything about
Miss Munson, about the room, and about
the lookout from the high, deep-seatcd
windows. There was not one vivid tint
in that parlor everything had the dim
ness of age over it. All the brightness
was gone out of the carpet. Large,
shadowy figures sprawlcd over the floor,
their indistinctness giving them the sug-
gcstion of grace. and the polish on the
mahogany furniture was too dull to reflect
the light. The gildod scrolls on the pa
per no longer shone and over some OF the
old enCravings on the walls n hali-trans-
parent film that looked like mist had
spread. Outside, n cool, green shadow
lay over the garden, and soft, lazy pulls
of lilac-scented air came in ut the win
dows. On, it was all lovely, and 1t was
SO little trouble TO enjoy it
liked the tea, which came later, too.
The dining-room was as charming i'll its
way us the parlor, large and dark and
solid, with some beautiful quaint pieces
of furnit in it. The china was pink
and gold and / fancicd myself that Miss
Munson's grandmother had spun the ia
bic linen and put it away in big chest,
with rose leaves between the folds. l dc
believe the surroundings and the circum-
stances impaired a subtle flavor to every
thing | tasted, which gave rise to some
thing higher than mere gustatory delight,
or may be it was my mood; but 1t GER
tainly seemed to me that / had never en-
ioyed n tea SO much before.
After that day Miss Munson and ! be-
came very well acquainted. | got into
the habit of running over there very Of
ten she seldom came TO see me. 1t was
tacitly understood Letwecn us that it was
pleasantcr for me to do the visiting.
do not know how she felt toward mo
think she liked me-but began to feel
an exceeding, even loving, interest i'll
her. All that could think OF sometimes
when with her was Il person walking III
II garden and getting continually delicate
little sniils of violets. SO that he certainly
knew they were near him. although they
were hidden somewhere under the leaves,
and lie could not sec them. There would
not he day that Miss Munson would
not yly things that were 80 many little
hints of a rare sweetness and beauty Of
nature which her shyness and quietuess
did not let appear all at once.
She was rather chary always of giving
very broad glimpses OF herself. | was
always more or less puzzled and cyadcd
by her, though she was evidently Il sin
cere, child-like woman, with II liking for
simple pleasures. She took genuine de
;i H. :" iiIn,' a n.y. VI ~ VIZ.
inc, d. t,.,n Zoo ,,a5,;ny Sia 49, w.,
inS ;u ~" p,t''',
6.o4S III IN iilo'1 ~, UNI , '' f,.'I ~,
""f 'J p;il on,. h .ii' ~, ioi'''' ''il
she talked about prayinr as simply ms
one would about breathing.
But the day before | left Ware she told
me n very peculiar story. bv which she
displaved herself to me all at once in n
fuller LIGHT. although she revealed such II
character that I was. in one WAY. none
the less puzzled She and | were sitting
in her parlor. She was feeling sad about
nv going and nerhons that led her to
couti,le in me. ANYWAY. she looked M.
all Mt once. after little silence.
"Do Won" she said. "belieye in
dreams ?"
nav 'lutotIbli tstll
truthfully," | replied, laughing. 81
don't really know whether 1 believe in
dreams or not"
81 don't know either" she said slowly,
and she shuddered little. 81 have IL
mind to tell you" she went on, "about n
dream | had once, and about something
that happened to me aftcrward never
did tell any one, and believe / would
l,I- n. i l n.
me-" she added, as timidly as child
afraid of giving trouble.
I assured her that would, and, after Il
little pause, she told me this
81 wos ohout % =" clio coil "ond faith.
cr and motbcr hal hnen Ino1 one forr
the other siy years was iiyinn niomc
Lcrc with ,NJorgorat no have over eincn
hovc thonaht snmet;mos That if was os'i NV
Lv;nc alone 60 ,nUoi' nmd rat nai,m
u.;t tln atl "an' ny oo.a,5 'I'o W.,
.1re,r, nc ,,,uob os J1i1 hr+ 1on't l,r,,,,