The Ouachita telegraph. [volume] (Monroe, La.) 1865-1889, 1888-09-15
CHAPTER II.
LETTERS.

LETTERS.
gSAEVEN warm but most perfect
I!gS June days have spent their short
Slll life.
Ml@SS Paul Westlake has tished 10
W. his hearts content, often with a
companion who adds somewhat to that
hearts discomfort, be it said for Miss
Brown he finds II very seIf-wiIled and
capricious young lady. It dues not
take long to discover that she has had
her own way from the cradle up, and
IL no end Of "a little despot over her
two slaves, her pappy and an old black
woman who nursed her and is now
woman of all work on the place.
Old Mr.. Brown is not displeased to
find that Ange has come around and
treats his guest civilly. He is an
innocent aud unsuspicious old fellow
for all he has "been about" It never
occurs to him that this young man
whom he has opened his doors to is
anything but the simple and kind
hearted lad he looks in spite of his
city manner and dress. Aud to him
Auge has never grown oat of her child
hood yet. That any man should look
upon her as anything else is as remote
an idea to him as the stars.
1t is on the afternoon of this seventh
day that he goes to tho nearest village
for his weekly mail. AT sundown
they are looking for his return; Ange
down by the gate, ard WestIake loung-
ing in the cool of the large gallery,
smoking.
When he at length appears, with his
saddiebags bulging with papers, Ange
runs out to him and ciings to his arm
as they come up the walk together
laughing and cha,tering about every
thing and nothing.
Westlake, watching them with lazy
interest, is conscious of strange
stirring of his heart that can not he
occasioned by sight of the homely
farmer.
"Got three for you, Westlake," he
calls out, asserting them from his own
with his dissengaged hand.
Westlakc sits upright and tosses his
cigar away with sudden rush of glad
ness in the thought that the boys have
remembered him so loyalty
Ange catches them out of her fathers
hands in spirit of mischief and holds
them behind her back as she comes
slowly up the steps and stands before
him while Mr.. Brown pasYes into the
hall.
(Which hand will you take :' she
laughs with a mean enjoyment of his
suspense.
The lovely yellow-brown eyes which
catch and hold the rich sunset light
smile down ON him. The whole perfect
childish face and figure are sci in a
halo of golden light. He notes it all
and that strange stirring at his heart
again troubles him. He wonders if he
will ever be able to forget the picture
she makes, with her happy face in
which no slightest trace of care or sor.
row can be found? The sunset glamou,
has somewhat dazed him.
"Which hand (which hand ?' agair
she cries in her pretty petulant voice
with the faint back woods accent which
he is learning to like.
"Both," he answers daringly. She
steps back kward from something ir
his eyes and voice and if it is not tho
sunset reflection her cheeks are burning
crimson. TimidIy, without even CLAN.
cling at them she extends the letters tt
him one at a time. Two addressed ir
the neat, clean and iegible hand of tel
egraph operators, another in the big
angular characters distinctly feminine
and N odern, " 18th a faint odor of violet:
clingiDg to the creamy envelope.
Wes,lake turns ,ritle pale as ,hi:
perfume reaches him it is 80 much s
part of her that he almost feels thu
sudden shock of meeting her face tt
face, even before his eyes fall on tht
well-known superscription, which ma:
an individuality in spite of its Sc
style.
AstonIshment, delight, and some
thing else indefinable hold him speech
less for a moment. When he raise
his eyes ne is alone.
With sudden involuntary motion