News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1885-04-23
An Old Maid.
BY LAURA COLLINS,

BY LAURA COLLINS.
A lowering morning which made one
wish for the sunny South or for Italy,
or any place which would make one feel
happier than could this dismal morning
in Wisconsin. And then to think that
this train could not make connection with
the eastward bound train 1t is hard
enough to stop at such miserable little
JUNCTION at any time, but to spend three
hours here this dark morning must
prove the very refinement of torture.
There are dozen passengers who must
wait and who prepare to make the best
of their stay here. One couple, ev-
identity just married, find the clouds of
very rosy color, and they walk out of
the smoky old depot to make tour of
the town, talking eagerly the while.
Two young fellows wander uneasy about,
reading all the old tattered posters,
glowing inducements to go West, and
ancient time tables, which invariably
decorate the stained walls of country
depot. These young fellows finally
utter ordinations of impatience at the
dreary monotony, and go across the
street to the hotel, hoping to find some
thing there more congenial to them.
Two ladies at once take their departure
for the hotel, and other people stroll
out about the depot, and there are left
two persons, a man and woman, who.
after little time, settle themselves to
reading to pass away the weary mo-
ments. He reads his paper, she her
book, and, occasionally, woman-ike,
she casts look at her silent companion,
wondering what loved ones are awaiting
his arrival and whether he is impatient
to greet them, or if he feels a mans
stoicism in regard to it; wondering, too,
how it is that each woman thinks the
masculine lives connected with hers so
full of manly graces and beauty, and
who could find manly beauty in those |
rugged features? ? Then she turned her |
gentle eyes toward the window and |
looked out at the dreary landscape,
looked with eyes which saw not outward
objects, but were introspective solely.
An old maid, commonly supposed to be
the type of discomfort and unrest; but
here, evidently, the type fail ed, for this
face expressed the utmost of content.
Life had been filed with much of sor-
row for her, all her bright plans had
failed of fruitiOn; one after another she
had bidden good-by to them and had
turned bravely again to face the coming
of new future, future to be peop,ed
again by her bright fancies-the old
fancies all dead and gone from her ex-
cept as they fingered IN memory. An
old maid she is, SO far as years go, but
no home is happier than her little ideal
home She has filed its rooms with
bright little faces eagerly calling to
mother and the dream-father is strong,
earnest, helpful and loving. Her dream
home is happier far than many a fine
Iady's real home; although she has not
pictured any grandeur about it. Oh,
faded from much sunlight and worn
from the tread of many little feet, that |
there is much planning to "make both |
ends meet" but she has imagined unset
fish living in this ideal home, and loving |
unselfshness can make all trials in re-
gard to ways and means seem very slight |
indeed. Her companion in this depot |
is an elderly person, stout, large man,
with keen eyes and mouth at complete
odds with the eyes, not belonging to
them apparently. Often eyes do not
harmonize in coloring with the rest of
the face, but generally expressions are
akin. This man had SEN
sitiye mouth, one with mournful droop
to it. Those who looked at him caught
themselves wondering which would con-
quer-keen, hard eyes, or sensitive |
mouth. He read for some time, then
gave quick look at the thoughtful face
near him, and said, abruptly: "Not
very pleasant arrangement, this"
A quick flush passed over the gentle
face before him-a flush which his keen
eyes noted instantly and understood-a
flush which told of the girlishness yet
left to this lonely woman.
''Not that it matters much to me
where I am" he continued. "Iife can't
give me anything harder than I've had
"Thst is a sad thing to say" she said,
in her timid way.
ga true thing, though" he respond
ed, and the corners OF his sensitive mouth
dropped little more. "I feel as if I
had nothing left to live for. My wife
lied year ago and" here the voice
broke. Distress ever calls some souls
ont from their reserve, and hers was
such one, and she said, quickly:
"Ab, but you have all those vanished
laws and months and years to remem-
Der. all the loveliness of her life to think
Of now"
Chow did you know her life was
oveIy ?" he queried little sharply.
She hesifated a moment and then
said, simply:
"It must have been, or you would not
miss her from your living so much"
tribute 20 the manly worth in the face
she saw before her, which was keenly
relished by the owner of the face. He
sighed, and then looked for a time ont
If the smoky window, then said: CATER
all, life is a strange muddle," and, re-
ceiving q look OF understanding in re-
sponse TO this sentiment, be went on:
''We don't know what is right to do,
and yet we're punished by fixed laws if
we don't do the right. That doesn't
seem Just to me-"
con but it will come ont straight in
he next life, she cried, eagerly.