The Portland daily press., 1891-05-16
ELEANOR IN LOVE.
[Elmira Telegram ]

she send it? That moment was one of
those wistfully critical epochs of exis-
tence upon which may swing, as upon a
hinge, the door of destiny.
Eleanor Armstrong stood in doubt.
WhyP 1t was little thing, just friend
ly letter to Jack Renshaw ont in Texas.
What matter? Why should she hesitate?
Eleanor could not tell. Still she lin
gered, dimly PRESIDENT OF that swinging
door of destiny.
She had written his name across the
envelope; should she complete the adj
dress and let it go? Hers was quick,
positive nature, given to the obedience
of impulse. 1t was vexing to be so puz-
zled over so slight thing.
An accident, if such it was, decided
the question. A caller was announced.
She descended to the drawing room, and
the letter went to the box, gathered up
with the rest of her mail by the hand of
the maid.
SIT was destiny" said Eleanor to her
self in an afterthought.
After all nothing could come of it.
She was under no obligation to Jack
Renshaw, nor to any other man, in fact.
Then she wondered idly if she ever
should care for any of them-one more
than another-for Eleanor Armstrong,
while no beauty, had grace and sparkle,
and subtle personal magnetism which
drew about her plenty of admirers.
She favored them all by turns. Last
summer it was Lew Hunter. She went
boating with him up in lovely Chocorua,
where they summered, played tennis and
climbed country roads and hills.
''He was so strong and good natured,
and made such good alpen-stock," she
coolly explained to her aunt, Miss Jane
Mears, who was her careful chaperon.
This year, last past, it was Jack Rem
shaw, at the same place, Chocorua-
"dear old dreamy town." Eleanor said,
81 could never tire of it." Jack did not
dance, cared nothing for tennis, and had
no experience with oars; but he read
poetry beautifully, and could tell her
charming old idyls as they walked by
the river.
He interested her in way that others
did not; and yet he had such dreadfully
positively frightened her sometimes, she
said.
Now the summer was gone, Jack was
in Texas, and Eleanor was in her city
home with only Aunt Jane and memory
Yes, there was always Fred Kensel He
lived in handsome house up in the
square, with stylish mother and sisters.
He was the Oldest friend of all, and was
always at hand, sometimes more than
Eleanor wished. For in the last year
their frank, unrestrained good fellow
ship had in some way taken on a color
too strong for ordinary friendship, and
Eleanor often found herself uncomforta-
BILE and i'll at ease when Fred was near.
She would declare the air was close-she
must have the window open-and where
was Aunt Jane? Or if they were on the
street she complained of his.pace; why
did he lag SO? Couldn't he walk up like
any other man? Poor Fred unwittingly
felt the smart of many thorns that
winter.
But about Jack Renshaw; Eleanor
cared nothing for him-she knew she
didn't. He was a pleasant summer
friend, nothing more. He had light
hair; she wouldn't marry blonde, any
way. Then he was too serious, too
'preachy." She wasn't going to marry
guideboard. Besides he was all of ten
years older than she-inight as well be
her grandfather. No. lack Renshaw-
Tor anything but friend, was out of the
question. Lew Hunter was more to her
mind, and secretly to herself, she owned
that Mr.. jerome Arthur, the tenor at st.
Pauls, was nearer to her taste than
either. But Mr.. Jerome Arthur was as
yet only a vague possibility. She had
met him casually dozen times orFso.
Thus she reasoned.
Sosthe days went by, and the letter
and Jack went almost out of mind. Oc-
casionally remark or tone ofvoice, or
marked passage in some favorites book
they had read, would recall him. Then
memory would stir, and she would idly
wonder if he got her letter, and when
and,how he would write. But the spec
ulation was one of indifference. It
troubled her not. The issue was all too
vague as yet.
Lew Hunter was around occasionally;
she began to meet and sing duets with
jerome Arthur at the houses of friends,
while Fred Kensel was in constant
attendance for. lectures, concerts and
drives. Therefore, if Miss Eleanor's
time-did notify, it at least did not drag;
and she spent very few. hours either'in
ennui or in serious reflection.
Miss Jane Mears was sometimes anx-
ious for the future of her niece, and took
occasion to remind her of the ultimate
necessity of choice andsa judicious. set
Element in life. Whereupon the spirited
girl, with laughing audacity, ayerred
that Aunt Jane herself was to be con-
graduated upon her own merciful preser-
walton from such a climax! Thatgood
lady received the lively sallies of her
niece'with the good humored. federation
Of. mother cat under the attack of'a
frolicsome kitten.
"But, Eleanor, my DEAR" she would
purr, "you know you cannot always'go
on in this way; you really must make a
choice"
"Make choice-how shall do it,
auntie? Advertise for sealed proposals
and award the contract to the highest
bidder, or put the candidates in bag
and rattle for them%
"Don't be absurd, child" responded
Miss Jane; "you know what mean, of
course. am afraid you will go through
the'eutire pasture and then take up with
crooked stick"
well, l haven't seen any quite
STRAIGHT enough to suit me yet"
"Well, well, my dear, only talk to
you for your own good. 1 have been
afraid you MISSED it when YOU didn't
take up with Josiah Hawkins"
"Josiah Hawkins'-and missed it,
indeedr' retorted Eleanor. "What did /
miss but an Anticipated old pig with
dyspepsia and squeaky shoes. / trust I
am not reduced to quite so low an ebb."
mo, no, child; don't fly in passion
so; it isn't ladylike. I am only afraid
you will never do any better, that is ALL"
edo any betterp should think I
could hardly do worse than marry a
man for whom l hadn't spark of
love!" and the girls eyes flashed.
Well, there, there" soothed the Sc
rene maternal cat, 'don't let's talk any
more about it,"
NO, but you mustn't begin it, and
please don't scold me any more, dear"
succumped Eleanor, with kittenish
embrace. And SO the dialogue would
end. And the autumn Days went by.