Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1884-10-29
A MANS MISTAKE.

Dolphin House--it was late in the sea-
son. The maple woods made a low
line of deep red against the autumn
sky; the ladies, too, muhlol scarlet
shawls over their white dresses as
they sat on the piazza Of the hotel
overlooking the SURF listening to the
band which still played jubilantly in
the sunny afternoons.
The heiress, Miss Vale, who had
come late, remained later. She liked
the cold breath which crisped the surf,
turned the naples red and made her
horses dance over the smooth floor Of
yellow sand which stretched for miles
along the bay,
Her faultlessly beautiful face, and
the more world-loving one of her aunt.
daily met the view of the loungers as
her sleek bays champed their silver
bits down the shore road.
She was more often seen abroad in
her carriage, but, being an old travel
er, she was good walker, and often
came in to tea with dash of red in
her smooth cheek. her brown hair
damp with spray, curling closely
about her temples. She had been on
foot to Grape Point Or the Shoals ia
vorite retreats accompanied only by
her great white hound, Peri. Miss
Vale was little peculiar, people said.
Certainly, she did as she pleased
with an unobtrusive independence
which hardly need to have troubled
any one.
She had gone out that day after the
storm to see the sea dash and roll in
its strength. The sun shone brilliant
ly on its dancing white caps as they
settled gradually into calm.
She had sat long while on the
rocks, her great dog at her feet. She
was a long way from the hotel, but
Juba waited down the beach with her
carriage, and her aunt sat among the
cushions and read.
There was no one but Peri to see how
beautiful Laurel Vale was as she sat
against the ragged black rocks, her
dress of steel-gray kirt!ed from her
slight feet, her graceful shoulders and
arms huddled in a soft crimson shawl.
The sunshine struck her perfect
profile under black soft -plumed hat,
warming her cheek, and bringing into
relief the firm dimpled chin, and those
who had called her cold would not
have accused her thus then, so happy
the smile Of her red lips, so warm the
llght OF her brown eyes.
She loved the sea-thrived upon its
hreath-delightel to be quite alone
with it. So she did not mind how the
hours went, though Aunt Pardon
turned her hundreth page, and yawned
among the purple cushions.
"Come here, Sinbadw
A mellow masculine voice came
from among the rocks-too pleasant
and manly a voice to whiten Miss
Vale's cheek with fear, certainly; but
with one swift silent motion she rose
to her feet, pale as if she had seen a
ghost.
She glanced around. A little be-
hind and just below her stood gen.
tleman-a a blue-eyed man with fair
beard and great tawny dog rawning
at his feet.
lie met her startled gaze with one
equally startled then instinctively
lifted his hat. After an instant he
came slowly up the rocks, almost re-
luctantly it seemed, lie, too, was
pale now.
Laurel" he said gently.
You might have understood then
why people called Miss Vale cold
Her fair mobile countenance seemed
to harden over her spirit like mask
She had but one thought-that after
five years suffering she had come to be
happy, when here, before her again,
stood the destroyer of her peace.
She made swift involuntary gest-
ure, as if to keep him off. A quick
pathetic sadness swept across his face
as he saw it4~
"And so you hate meP" he said,
slowly.
She caught her breath
~ do not know" size cagnatl