The Penn's Grove record., 1885-01-17
No LINE.

/ am Lucy Denham. ! am asked to
write the story of these events. 1t
seems to me, looking back, that it all
began one autumn night. | remember
1t well. 1 was sitting in the twilight
by myself, the lattice window wide
open, the huge dusky beech-trees that
fringe the road standing out darkly
against a bright evening sky. Then,
staring across the darkeBing room, |
began to dream.
1 was thinking how many reasons
had for being happy. ] have been told
That when one does that it is a sure sign
of mhappiness. 1t may be so; L am
not wise enough to decide. My mother
had lied when l was six, and l lmme
diately found another in Mrs. Payne,
her step-sister. | had lived with her
and her son Richard, in this dear old
cottage called the Wood Farm, toI
fourteen years. And then / thought OF
Richard-how he found time; amid the
cares of experimenting a large farm, to
teach me and pet me and be at once
father and brother to me, until, through
his gentle schooling | learned to see all
things through a medium of contented
peace, and to recognize the great com
fortsE and guardian of human life -
work.
Then / remembered the change that
had come over him during the last few
weeks. There WAS some scarcely per.
Septible difference in his manner when
he spoke to his mother, a greater differ,
ence still when he spoke to me. If any
thing, his voice was kinder ; but still ii
had a new ring III it which gave me a
pain that | could not explain. 1t was
part of the beginning.
Suddenly | began to cry. | took my
slf severely to task. said
vCOme, come, Lucy Denham-you
used to hatter yourself that II ever
trouble came to you you would bsar it
braYely and ia silence and now you
are CRYING when only the shadow of a
disappointment begins to touch you
Some n came between me and the
light, and 1 heard Richards glad voice
exclaim-
Halo, little wisdom All alone :;
Why, you were so busy with your
thoughts you didn't hear me speak to
you twice-in no low tones either
What deep plots are you devising fol
our good now, eh ?"
And, coming over to me, he put his
hand caressingly on my wet cheek be
fore | could prevent him,
What" he said, drawing me gently
20 the light you've been crying,
Lucy +" And he looked steadily into
my eyes, "Come-tell me what is the
matter. little sister"
Nothing is the matter, " 1 answered,
smiling. II grew foolish, ] suppose, in
the twilight. / really don't know my
self what made me cry. l don't IN
deed
"You are happy here ?" he asked
musIngly.
| nodded.
"You don't feel lonely ?"
'No, no." | answered eagerly
''please don't take any more notice oil
my f~oolishness."
SIS my mother in ?" he asked sud
denly.
"No; she is gone up to the Mil
House to talk to Mrs. Goodwin. She
said she was coming back before dark
.'Let us walk through the wood and
meet her, " he said. 81 have something
to tell you as we co.
I'm a few moments we were in the
deep cool wood, the grand trees lacing
overhead and nearly shutting out the
sky blue sky.
"Do you know what it is to be IL
We, Lucy ?" he began.
1t was such a strange sudden ques-
ION to ask a young girl that | h~esitated
aAr. aAaAVs n. ernEICn In nnflnAd If en-
"How foolish of me ~ he said, laugh
ing merrily. ''Of course you don't
How should your But you have read
about 1t Pr
"Yes," I answered quickly II think
know"
W / wondered, yet guessed, what was
coming. l found was trembling. !
tried to be calm ; but l could not.
II will tell you, Lucy" he contin-
ued, in a lower tone, putting his hand
on my shoulder. ut is to lose all In
terest In your own life and in every
ones else, except one. 1t is to risk the
existence of every hope you have ever
held on the will of one person. 1t is to
leave behind you all the calm theories
by which you have fashioned your life,
and to live in a glad, feyerish, wonder
full dream, without laws, without order,
with only a sense of some ones exist
ence in whom your life Is lost. 1t is
better than that-worse than that and
- | cannot tell you after all !"
1 scarcely knew him he spoke Sc
passtonately, pressing my poor shoulder
till 1t ached again. He, who was al
ways so quiet and cheerful and steady,
seemed to have lost control Of himself,
| began doubtfully, for | felt how
bold 1t was Of NE to hazard an opinion
% such a subject.
sDo YOU think all love is like that !
10 hive In a silent alteration Of only one.
to blend sweet thoughts OF that ore
with the commOnest duties of your hfe
until the smallest of them gains = new
charm in your eyes to"
II know knowr . he broke in
quickly. Il once thought that such
would be my love Then he stopped,
but presently went on. 'But, oh, Lucy,
Lucy, when your love is for n who
has only a little of earthly bloom upon
her, whom you may lose in an hour, a.
you lose the violets which you pluee
and put In your breast only To kill them
then, Lucy, you "a understand the
kind OF love that must be ~
s.Is she very beautiful ~ / asked, (
hzrn ha thoughts / tTied to keep ms