Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1884-08-27
MISS ENDICOTT,

Miss Endcott was an old maid, ii we
are TO believe her friends and neigh
bors; she no longer went out to ger
mans, and as for flirting, they said she
could not give il up because she had
never taken it up.
"Why, don't believe she ever had
such a thing rs a proposal in her life, ]"
said Mrs. Snow, and Rev. Mr.. Snow
wondered If 1t were wrong for clergy
man not to dsabuse his wife's mind of
such an error. Miss Endicott had ac-
cepted the verdict of her friends with
out demur, and seemed resigned.
What did it signify? If she had never
been in love, was il her fault?p She
had once believed that the time would
come, had waited and watched for her
hero, but he had delayed, and now she
was paSSee, and heroes always loved
youth and beauty, and she no longer
expected him. She had her interests, her
poor people, her books, her friends, and
If these did not satisfy, she said nothing
about It. If life was little prosaIc
compared with what she had expected
of it, it was not because she brooded
over all she had missed, and did not
enjoy the sunset of the present in re-
greeting the eight that never was on
sea or land" She loved TO sec other
women with their lovers, and she often
thought that she took as much pleasure
in the sight of pretty Irritation as
those most concerned. Love making
interested her impersonally; she no
longer considered herself in the matter,
and when men, young and old, flocked
to her receptions, she took no credit TO
herself: they came to see the pretty
girls with the bloom upon their cheeks,
and were civil enough to seem inter-
ested in whatever she had TO say; she
did not know there was charm in her
face, dependent neither upon youth nor
bloom-''a sweet, attractive kind of
grace" which even the pretty young
girls coveted, in all she said.
1--WE are going to drive to the Glen
today" ventured Mr.. Lawrence one
summer morning, when she was visit
ing mt the country house of her friend
Mrs. Turner. "Unless you will drive
with me, / shall be obliged to go
alone"
And you don't care for your own So
cietyP"
There is society covct more"
"Oh," put in Miss Hughes, "you
needn't go alone, Mr.. Lawrence; /
heard Miss Scott express her belief that
she would be paired of with you"
Miss Scott was mistaken"
THAT old maidv' said Miss Scott. Us
she sulkily watched Mr.. Lawrence and
Miss Endicott driving off. Every day
there was q little journey hither and
yon, and every day it was Miss Endi-
colt to whom Mr.. Lawrence attached
himself. Ii was Miss Endicott whom
he helped up the steep paths, for whom
he found the wild flowers, to whom he
gave the hummng-bird' nest or the
Indian arrow head, whom he Joined on
tho veranda, with whom he searched
the heavens tor the comet or tracked
the consultations; it was Miss Endicott
whom he rowed up the creeks among
tho meadows, TO whom he brought the
birds he bagged, to whom he read Mat
thew Arnold's poems under the lofty
pine trees, or Browning on the sea-
beach, for whom he sketched the glen.
Why" pouted Miss Scott, ''he is
familiar enough to call her Vera
alreadyr'
flush" said their hostess, Mrs.
Turner; ''he has right to call her
Vera, l suppose; they were engaged
once, but she broke the engagement.
This is only friendship"
"Fiddlesticks." declared Miss Scott.
81 don't believe in friendship"
"when friendship half would look like love;'"
quoted Miss Hughes. II must say it's
a dangerous experiment for two people
who were once engaged to flirt.'
''This is not Irritation; it is compan-
ionship,' said Mrs. Turner.
"Of course he can't be in love with
her--at her age, too" continued Miss
Scott. "He's only amusing himself"
What Miss Endicott thought about it
was quite commonplace. Mr.. Law
renee was her most intimate friend:
they had known each other for years
and years. They had been lovers that
is, he had loved her, and she had hoped
TO love him, and had failed. If she be-
gan to suspect that it was not impossi-
bic, after ALL what thenP Many wom-
an has loved in her maturer years the
man whom she only liked in her youth.
Was II because years had brought her
the capacity for appreciation, insight
and understandings She began to
wonder why the tones Of his voice had
never thrilled her in tho old days, why
she had not loved him, why he had not
been her hero. Was il too late? 1t
seemed not. He waited upon her
chances, he loved her neighborhood if
there was difference in this manner,
was il not fear lest he be deluded him.
self again, lest he might seem to take
too mich for granted? Mr.. Lawrence
was hardly thirty; he was merely drift
ing. 1t had once been all the world TO
him TO breathe in Vera's presence.
They was charm about her still, but
had he q right to be charmed? He as
sured himself daily that he was not
making lovc-nobody could mistake
him. In old days he had been so differ
ent, so full of enthusiasm, SO devoted
this was only platonic affair between
two hearts which understood each 9TH
or. Was it not Lamartine who once
said "a woman could have no such
friend as another womans lover" or
something of the kindp Besides, Vera
had never loved him, even in the old
times; he had deluded himself for
awhile, but II was she herself who had
delegated him to the bleak region of
friendship when he had poured out his
affections upon her. Why should she
make any mistake nowp
They had been out gathering wild
flowers one afternoon.
"This herbarium," he said, Twill DO
q kind Of floral diary to me. i can read
the histories of the summer days among
ITS leaves; the DAYS in which we discov-
cred each faEorite specimen will rise up
like lovely ghosts before me whenever /
open the volume; 1 will see again the
paths we followed, tho little clouds
moving across the sky. will hear
your voice again; your words will echo
In my"
"You are becoming poet,' said
Vera, as Mr.. Lawrence paused, with
bis eyes fixed on the veranda.
u know you will be shocked TO see