New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1883-12-26
UNCHANGED THROUGH ALL.

UNCHANGED THROUGH ALL.
Wearied out with her days work,
Alice Losing is seated on her cottage
doorstep, engaged in the homely occu-
patton of Smelling peas.
1t is the time of the ''golden even
tide" and the setting sun seems to
glance down kindly on the tired girl
like some kind old red-faced father, on
the child whose troubles he sees, but
cannot relieve.
Alice LOSING is far from beautiful as
she sits there on the doorstep. Ramb-
ling in the woods, climbing trees, pick
ing berries, and tramping through win
ter storms, have made her, in truth, a
''nut-browne mayde;'' but there is a
wealth of sweetness and purity in those
clear hazel eyes, grace in her every
movement, and a charm in the very
tone of her voice, that distinguishes
her, and marks her as being above
the common.
A book is lying beside her, and ever
and anon she steals a peep into it's
pages; it is in this way, in odd mo-
mcnts snatched from her work, that
she has made herself what she is, in
spite of the life of thankless toll to
which hitherto she has been tied.
She is not now thinking of those toll
some days, but of one who has come
into her life, like sunbeam into a
darkened room; one who can talk to
her about the great men who have lived
in all ages; one who can call out her
shy thoughts and make her conscious
she has not studied and read in vain;
one who can make her stronger in her
half-formed desires for higher and
nobler life.
1t is now three months since Sydney
Weston has crept into her heart; he
had first presented himself to her one
sunny day, a thirsty artist, and asked
for cup of water. He had remained
in the village ever since, and their mu-
tual love OF painting had enabled them
to spend many happy hours together,
and had caused them to become fast
friends.
Fast friends-but nothing more. In
all their rambles through wood, and
lane, and field, he had never breathed a
word Of love.
Sometimes Alice wondered deep
down in her unworldly heart whether
she was necessary to him; whether, il
she were to fade out of his life, there
would be any void in his.
''But no. she would say to herself,
che is too noble, too self-reliant to care
for the love of a simple country girl
like me-
Suddenly, looking up, she sees the
object of her thoughts app oachine
through the distant fields. At last h
arrives at the cottage, and leans over
the gate:
"Good-evenirg, Miss Alice.''
''Good-evening, Mr.. Weston"
"Won't you come for stroll? See
how divinely quiet and beautiful every
thing is. Come, all nature invites you,
Miss Alice"
II don't know if may. I will ask
my aunt IL
She goes in to obtain the desired per-
mission; and she joins him, looking al
most beautiful in the sweet simplicity
of her dress. -.5s
They stroll on for while in silence
Both, somehow or other, seem embar-
raised. At last he ventures to say:
"What q splendid evening it is. Take
out your pencil, Miss LOSING, and
sketch while. The dusk softens the
harsh features of the landscapes; and
clothes it's beauties with delicious mys-
tery.' IL
She sits down on q moss-covered
rock, and sketches silently.
Ho bonds ovo,. her ,,o;p+;po. o,,t fault,
in her work, sometimes taking the pen
Gil himself to add needed touches.
But he speaks little.
He has been standing over her for
some time with folded arms watching
her modify. At last he breaks the 81.
lence.
''Miss Alice"
She looks up.
II am going away tomorrow, no
says, his voice trembling, ''never to re-
turn
1t is Alice's turn to tremble now, and
She bends her head lower over her
work, for she knows how dreary life
will be without him; but she forces her.
self to say some thing:
''Has anything happened, Mr.. Wes-
ton?"
mo, nothing has happened. My
own weakness has kept me here too
long; I should have gone long ago."
She is herself again now. There are
unshed tears in her eyes, but the gath
ering dusk conceals them.
twill not do. to show him that she
cares much. She holds out her hand.
Goodbye, Mr.. Weston. We have
been good friends together
''Iry not to forget me, Miss Alice,''
he says appealingly.
They return to the cottage. And
thus they part in tie cleaning:
Three years have passed away. Alice
is now established in the city, a rising
painter. She had soon found out her
talent for art, and, hoping for better
things, had come to the city, and
worked very hard with her needle to
earn money for the necessary instruc-
ton; and, after while, when she had
become ready with her pencil, she OBJ
tanned designing-work from different
houses-by this means working her way
hrAValV tO tho hirhoSt ro,,n1c ~ ho 1oI-