The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1885-12-04
ed pem OF scenery !


preciated-he was next TO nothing to
Zette, and she was glad because big,
pompous whiskered man of Justice had
come to take him away.
II think III go down and see tho
poor fellow" | said to myself as
strolled toward his fancful little tent,
which he had pitched in secluded
piney hollow at bend of the creek
and Just down an abandoned old
wood road into which had aimlessly
turned
| had reached the open entrance Of
the tent when the roll of wheels and
the thud of hoofs sounded on the level
grass near me, and looked up to be-
hold my incomprehensiblc Iet'ie her
self, alone. seated in a nondescript farm
wagon behind sober old horse.
AS lodged guilty behind con-
venitnt juniper, she dropped the reins,
sprung lightly TO the ground, and pre-
sented her audacious self to the artist,
who was reposiug on gorgeous blank
ct Just within the tent.
II have brought fathers horse and
buggy, and father says you may come
to our house and stay, even if officers
are hunting for you" she announced
laconically and without ceremony.
He half arose. and for an instant he
stared in black silence.
''lf officers are hunting for me, Miss
Iettie, they are on the wrong trail
thanking your father all the same,' he
at length said with laugh, which was
merry despite his ashy lips and fevered
brows.
For an instant, something--a CLEAN
of triumphant Joy, of relief inetfable-
flashed like the glory of dawn over her
face but the next second she was her
own inscrutably Indifferent self again.
"You can stay, father says, until the
fever is gone,' she resumed shortly.
'Or perhaps our house is not good
enough" she concluded, whether with
irony or modification ! could not de-
termine.
Il will go with you, Miss Zettie," he
abruptly assented as he covertly and
curiously regarded the half averted
face. ''But my tent and things must
go too, you know"
80, father expects that" she said
carelessly, but with such peculiar en-
phasis of the substantive | suspected
the parental expectations and invita-
tions had been improvised for the oc-
casion.
And then with an old commingling
of the saucy and the submissive, of the
dignifed and TIE defiant, she began
herself the not difficult process of de-
campment.
And presently the artist and his be-
longings were snugly settled in the
nondescript vehicle, and Zettie was
composedly driving the sober old horse
back to the cottage among the morn
ing glories and the Eoneysuckles.
Days elapsed, ana somehow Zettie
kept herself invisible. Meanwhile the
officers had traced and secured the fu-
gtive offender, who, despite the saga
city of the GOSSIP ing villagers, was not
Paul Shirley. And that the artist had
become convalescent / hal ascertaine1
in my own fashion.
was beginning 10 yearn for the en-
livenlng companionship of my tyrant
once more, when one morning she
pounced upon me as | was skuiking
among the eglantine Of the low stone
fence.
"What ails you =? What have you
been doing with yourself = she asked
not urgently.
'Nothing ails me-" | answered cross
ly. Nothing ever does. Only am
sorry for a girl when fellow cares for
her, and she lets him have somebody
else with no sense and no pretty looks
and no anything
"What do You mean 2" she inquired,
with strange little start.
81 mean about the gushing and gid
dy young person you got to nurse, Paul
Shirley" | said heroically. "She is
hinting lots of things among the vii
lage folks she is boasting she il to
be his as soon as ever he is strong
enough tn ride down to the minister"
"Ah," Iettie murmured between her
white teeth.
That was all, and the next instant
she was gone.
"She will come back, though" |
| lIOuSlb CliIlbSu llt ltll Z all
flung myself down upon the grass in a
shadowy corner.
How long | lay there never knew,
but know that | sept after Ii tie
waiting. Ard from that slee / wa,
awakened bv a sound of shocking sobs,
and "a lifted mvs'lfupreht | scern.
ed Zette crouching on wo den bench
and weeping a. if her heart would
break
| shonld have called her or gone TO
her, bnt dared not. And so stood
undecided and trembling Paul Shirley
came through the star-lighted garden
and stopped beside her.
"Why are you crying, Miss Zettie ?"
he questioned as he placed a wonder.
ing hand upon her bowed head.
She shivered and shook the hand off
as if the touch hurt her.
'Is there anything | can do for you?n
he queried again and anxiously. 81
owe great deal to you, your wishes
shall always be commands to mel
will promise you that
"You will promise whatever | wish?"
she repeated doubtfuly.
"Whatever you wish will promise
he smiled. "And now | have a right
to know what you desire"
81 desire you not to marry that gid
dy creature who nursed you-she is not
good enough for you" Zettie began
recklcssly and finished in sudden con-
clusion.
"rhen you must marry me yourself"
he said gravely,
"Oh, no. she stammered, and with
a swift movement to run ignomlniously
away.
"Oh. yes, said he, putting out Al.
arm, and holding her tight and fast.
But did not mean that" she pant
ed, with her face hidden.
"But | have always meant that, my
wild, shy love-" he whispered, as he
drew her yet more closely to him.
| saw and heard no more. knew