The morning call., 1892-07-10
DORIS AND /.
CHAPTER /.

swallows curved ana tWittered all ABOUT us,
and in the rich amber light we could see
that all was fair and goed then our eyes
would meet and we thought not Of evil.
Doris and l. We spoke little, our hearts
being very full and words mere idleness.
Doris looked out again to the west. leaning
her head against me. and taking my hand
as 1t twined over her shoulder. We were
in the orchard by the old green wicket,
where a month ago, before the blossoms
had burst their bulbs. she Dad allowed me
to tell her an old tale, and had said one
word of her own to give it finish. And
as the tbr0stle sang his love song,
and the sun sank TO his bed behind the hills.
l thought of then and now, and my head
lowered aud / kissed her forehead gently
Then Doris sighed as If speli was broken.
For had come to tell of my windfall; that
l was no longer poor man; That, instead OF
waiting for years, We might begin our mar
Tied life on my return from Canada IN three
months or so; and the sudden happiness OF
the thing had wrapt US round and slleneed
us both. Now that the first flush of 10 was
over, we remembered the fieeting minutes
and fell to talking. What we said is of no
account here: but so little did we dream OF
harm or accident of nature TO cross our hap
piness, that not once did we mention him,
though we knew he was coming next day,
Ia stay. perhaps, for some weeks, as SICK
people 10.
Then we said goodbye and l opened the
wicket 10 pass through, but seeing the wet
In her eyes, fingered while longer Till she
was smiling again. when l let her GO But
/ looked back again every dozen yards or
so, and when | got across the second
meadow and stood by the Stile before vault
ing into the highrOad. L could still see the
straight white figure among the green end
the waving handkerchief. So / asked God
20 keep her and went my way with the
rose she lad given me. Walking home in
the pink twilight the heeynesS at leaving
her wore off rs / looked into the future aud
saw what WAS there. or rather what l plct-
ured in it. For when love is the warp and
fortune the wool. what will not the shuttle
OF fancy do?
Yesterday things had been so different
OF all my airy castles there seemed hardly
one left, aud | had built good few. Before
/ knew Doris such imaginings had never
troubled me. but when | had met her at
Winchcomb flower show love had touched
me with its wand, and all Of q sudden the
dead wall OF my life like that in CHANGERS
R0maunt-f0r l had read thing CT two in
the long winter nights before the old place
had been hammered into other hands
seemed all alive with pictures. Everything
was lit up; the world seemed a new place,
and life had sweeter meanings after l had
looked into Doris eyes and she into mine.
And when, ter maDy months, | plucked
UP courage to ask her heart how it was,
and she told me, the future wdened out in
such Il fashion that the sight of it nearly
made me light-headed.
Had / known how thugs were, / should
have held my tongue, through shame and
hOpelessueSs. But my father never gave a
sign that ruin was near upon him: that my
com Portable heritage, as l deemed ii, was
mortgaged to its last rood. The crash came,
and then the sale, and then life in little
cottage with a brOken-doWn father and
changed lookout, which perhaps made me
ovcr-mo0dy, for sometimes | despaTed of
ever possessing Doris. or of being able
under many years To support her in a way
fitting to her upbringing. Everything would
be broken off and il would all be dead
we'll again.
1t was in some such humor that the NO
taryS letter found me that morning. | had
never seen him. He had In early manhood
deeply wrOnged my father in come way.
and his name was rarely mentioned.
handed the letter to father and he was
dumb like myself. his face working strange
ly between anger and something softer
Then he put it down and said Conscience
money, lad, every penny on it; but it's
saved yer from my follv so TEX it, an
thank God for teachin' Ben repentance an
NE foTgiveneSs-nO easy lesson when a
brOther-Neli, well let il lie. Poor Benz
\ o wonder. then, that | saw visions as |
walked home in the light of the aftermath.
1t was nearly dusk when | arrived al the
cottage, and as | turned fer last look at
the FURNISHED hills bat came between me
aud the light and fiuttered mockingly be-
fore me- But l kissed my rose and laughed
al the fltteTmOuse.
1 had lived some % years in the world
without knowing much more Of il than
what our valley and its neighborhOOd had
to show; so that what | saw on nv long
Journey 10 MY uncls'S Canadian farm made
me wonder and marvel. as young people do
when Uhey 60 for The first time beyond the
mountains and see what is there. But
there IS no need TO dwell upon that. aud,
moreover, II doesn't concern the drift Of
what | am telling you.
Nor need / say much about the farm and
personal estate which had come to me by
my uncle's will. / found that the latter
came to some $50 000 chiefly invested in
Northern Pacific and other stock, and the
former large tract of prairie land, with
house, farm buildings and every appoint
ment of irst-class property. There was a
new railroad creeping up, which would
double its value in a few years time, and
II was for me to say after / had seen the
place whether | should let it or Hait or sell
it right out. | wrote the lawyer, saying
that for the present / would take ii in hand
ill the corn was safely harvested
So one thing leads on to another. and we
prepare our own destiny without knowing
It. But | had looked at things in practical
way, and according TO my lights and the
notary commended me, and Doris sent a
letter along saying: Yes, Jack: but don't
tarry tie thTashing too" which was only
sYeetheart-like.
The weeks passed on, and found plenty
TO occupy and interest me. as was natural
j let boss WllsORkeep much Of MS author
ity-he had been in charge of the farm
since the death, and his Ioquacous CON-
pany was not disagreeable after ] had
learned TO know him. One day in the town
near by l happened upon Worcester man
one HeDSnaw-and his clannish good feel
ing made the place less lonely. Then every
week Doris wrote down her little heart for
me TO read II, and sent her an account of
mine; and all the while the same sun
warmed us and the same moon set us
thinking one Of the other when the day was
over aud our souls skipped out for a game
al dreams. She was there and / was here
and soon there would be no there and here
but only one place and we in 1t.
Thinking to this tune / Jumped into the
saddle one August morning anduode to the
pOstofnce Tor the usual weekly letter.
always rode over, because the pOstboy who
passed US on his way TO the next settlement
waited for the second mall at noon. | met
Mr. Henshaw at the door of the Office
with two letters and a newspaper in his
hands.
''Mornin'. Mr. Sedley." said he; 'Iot o.
letters this mail; let me hold the cob till
you come out.
no letter. | rejoined Henshaw and walked
down with him to his store, heavy with dis
appointment.
Like to see the papere" said he, as was
iedflnR. alter ordering some supplies OF his
man, Tain't often | get one. but my
brothers hayrieks "a bin blazin', an he's
sent the account of it. Arl new hay. too.
an on'y part insured. Amt it pity?"
l said ii was. and looked modify through
the columns for news that might interest
me- | only learned that there had been a
regatta at Evesham, and that our old doctor
at Ranston had sold his practice to a Dr.
Robson-that was ALL But as / rode home
kept mnttering that doctors name, won
dering where had heard it before, till sud.
denly 1t came TO me, bringing lot Of some
thing else with il.
Why had Doris never mentioned him be-
yond the postscript in Der first letter weeks
agoP l had clean forgotten she had a
Cousin Stephen so little did heed him hnt