Milford chronicle., 1885-07-03

1 \ HAAAA Al anu push S@eA VIZ RA~N@~@
bosom Of Lake Pontehartrain. Before
I have gone far l am seized with an
other inspiration. There isn't a living
soul in sight. I had retired nook,
and landing my boat. draw it upon the
white sandy beach for safety. Then 1
seat myself upon the sand and dellber-
ately pull off my shoes and stockings;
I am going to wade. for the tide is out
and the water is cool and delightful.
1 have not gone far, however, when I
catch the sound of faint groan. I
drop my skirts involuntarily, and put
ting my hands to my mouth, as have
seen Fred do upon similar occasions, I
shout. Justify;
"Halloa"
The answer comes at once, and so
close to my side that cry aloud in
alarm. I turn quickly. and then I'M
derstand. Just around a little bend
which forms a sort Of cove, catch
a glimpse of a man lying at full length
upon the sand. Even from that dis
lance can distinguish the pallor Of
his face, and then understand intui-
lively that some accident has overtak-
en- him. glance down at my bare
feet. No time for shoes and stockings
nOw-I dart through the water, and
soon reach his side, The very hand
soonest man I ever met; he raises his
dark eyes to my face and says quickly:
II beg your pardon, miss, but I have
sprained my ankle severely, and-is
there any place in the neighborhood
where I can remain until able to trav-
elP My name is Compton-Walter
Compton-from st. Louis, and" he
hesitates, and a spasm of pain con-
tracts his face for a moment.
Eyes" cry Immediately, "you can
come home with me" So run to get
into my discarded articles of wearing
apparel, and then springing into my
boat I row to the spot With great
difficulty I succeed in assisting the
stranger into the boat, and then pull
slowly homeward. find papa quite
willing to receive the stranger, who,
after all, proves to be no stranger, but
the son Of one of papa's old friends.
We made him comfortable. and then
followed days and weeks Of pleasant
companionship Six weeks from the
day upon which ] brought Walter
Compton home In my boat he asks me
to be his wife. burst into tears. For
I love him with all my heart; yet there |
is that hateful Mr.. Comynl He has
never revisited our town since the let
ter was written in which he asks foa
the heart and hand of Freda Lowell,
but we may reasonably look for him
now at any time. sob out my story |
to Walter, my head upon his shoulder.
He smiles. and stopping, kisses me.
"Don't cry, sweetheart" he says
soothingly. "You shall never marry |
Mr.. Coinyn or any other man but my
self, If you really love me. We will
explain the whole affair to him and to
your father; and Mr.. Lowell will not
object to me on the score of poverty,
for am a rich man, Freda"
And then some one raps at the door,
and the servant announces;
"NIiss Freda, your father says please
come the library. Mr.. Comyn wish
es to see you"
at lastl So it has come, and must
face the music. And my eyes are red
from crying. my hair awfdlly tousled.
[ am a sight to make lover weep.
Nevertheless, I'll go just as am; if I
make him hate me, so much the better.
So leave Walters side aud march
straight into the library, with white
cheeks, my head deiantly raised.
Mr.. Comyn arises to meet me-a fine
ooking man, but not one-half as hand
iome as my Walter. He hesltates, and
Travis back with intense surprise upon
lis face.
"Mr. Lowell" he calculates in be-
addressing my father,
there is some mistake. This is not
he young lady"
1 clapped my hands gleefully, re-
,ardless Of papa's severest frown. So
t is Rita, after all I'm not two min
ties getting her into the library; then
close the door and fly back to Walters
ide.
Yes, it really is Rita Mr.. Comyn
ad only mistaken the name; but it is
rita whom he loves and wishes to I
marry. And best of all, Rita loves E
i'm in return, and has been grieving {
4 secret ali this time.
So there is a double wedding. and a
apa smiles ssrenely and never frowns t
ow, for he has two rich sons-in-law; '
nd poor little madcap Freda, the t
ride of wealthy Mr.. Compton, be- /
ONES quite an envied parsonage, and t
here is no longer any "black sheep" a
! the family.-AfTs. E. Burke Collins. {
4