Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1892-08-12

not see that me was approaching two peo-
pie. and hc was rather startled when he
heard girls voice asking some question
about the lake. 1t pleased him to believe
he knew "a great deal about a voice. and
he liked the quality Of this one at once.
1t was not a Phoenix voice. nor was it in
any way a mountain voice; it sounded as
if it had talked to many people, it was eN-
quisitely clear and low-toned. and there were
some tired notes in it, and very much in
difference, as if its owner did not care for
an answer, or even expect one
All this was the impression of a second
with him. As a matter of fact. he quickly
raised his head, and seeing a young girl
and with her Mr. Foster, took off his hat
"Well met" said Mr.. Foster 81 hard
~ knew You with that hat over your face
This is Miss Page, who has come to stay
the summer with us. We have been get
ting some fish for breakfast" and he Held
up fine string
Dorlance bowed again, and dismounted
The girl was tall and slender. and the deli
cate poise of her head, together with her
fine, dark, slightly imperious eyebrows,
gave her something of an air of haughti-
ness. In the morning sunlight her brown
hair took OH yelowish tones: and when,
smiling at him family. she opened wide
her eyes, narrowed by the heat and the
light, he saw they were gray. clear, and
unfathomabe
Mr. Foster hurried on to the house. leav-
ing Dorrance and the girl to follow, and it
seemed to Dorrance after that that they had
never been strangers. Elinor Pages life
had not been happy one. She had al
most the same philosophy that Dorrance
had, and, strangely enough. he sought to
/ fob . S. Il. 1 -.H.uH
a great wave of tenderness. as might some
delicate child whom he ought to make hap
Ply in some way. At times she was even
gay, and the amount of youth she drew
from him then surprised him: and she was
yet so sympathetic, SO old, it seemed to
him, he was absolutely without reserve
with her. She was all that he was not.
and She went farther in her coldness. and
was more open in her warmth: She pulsat-
ed with life and a magnetism that drew
| from him every corner of his affection. She
! satisfied an unsupported longing i'm him
| for fellowship. and he took hcr-aways
| with the Foster children-tO explore new
roads. On early mornings they had all
| followed the course of the river. so early
| that the trout were boldly eaping in their
waters. They had read together i'm pine
woods on warm days, or. shut up i'm the
| house during the rainy season. she PLAYED
| for him, as some women love to play. little
! bits from Chopin, or odd exquisite bars
! and measures strung together in one flow
| ing melody. And they had talked until
! there seemed TO be nothing in the life of
one that the other did not know. But by
the river, or on the slope, or listening to
| the old piano, through all. like running
! thread, had been the strong consciousness
/ nf nd u I
| their lives seemed interviewer.
The maps and reports grew apace, and
| the summer drifted on. One dav late in
August Dorrance rode over to Fosters
! The sun shone tiercely on the white house.
dazzling the eyes with its glare. Mrs.
| Foster came to the door as Dorrance was
about to dismornt. She was a pretty
woman, with light hair and fair skin well
set of by gown OF some blue material
"Elinor is not here, she said, anticipat-
ing him. 'She has taken the boys and
gone over to the ridge"
He thanked her made some remark
about the heat. and rode away. Down by
| the lake he went, a. he had gone that
morning in June. That was the begin
ming, and this-as it pleased Fate
would not be the ending, but merely
another beginning.
To his right grove of young cotton
woods stretched away and on the other
side, so near that its pebbly shore en-
! croached on the road, lay the lake. A
! great mass of tangled weed filled it for the
first five or six feet. but beyond. its waters
! reflected family tree and shrub and distant
| line of mountains. DOrrance left the
main road, and assembled the gentle slope
| they called the ridge. From il one could
! look down both on gulch and canon. and
see where the two joined; and he knew
/ Just what ElinOr would be doing there:
she would be face downward against a con-
| venieni ledge of rocks, book open before
| her, which she would not be reading. She
| would be supporting herself on her elbows,
! her face III the hOllOws of her hands her
! eyes two long slanting lines of light. and
her thoughts far away
He rode under the pines, and saw her so
in the distance. The boys were not in
sight, but he could hear their voices from
the other side of the slope.
Elinor looked up at the sound of the
horses hOof against the rocks, and lazilv
watched his approach. He dismounted
and slipped the reins around a broken
branch of tree.
at is dreamful here" She said, without
moving.
My soul today
So far away"
He took off his hat, and sat down near
her in the shade.
Il have been thinking" she said. ''how
beautiful is all this and she glanced to
the country spread out before her. And
yet what is it all for? What is its pur-
pose?'
He laughed. "Do not peer so into ev-
. erything,' he said. "What do YOU care
for purposes if you have results and eff
fects?"
But there must surely he a purpose in
everything she said. scr is everything
futile?''
Nothing is futile" he said, positively,
81 am, she said
"You?"
YES. What am l living for? ! don't
do anything to justify me in it.
'l on must not talk like that" he said.
gravely. 81 don't like TO hear you do so.
Your existence as a woman is justification
in ITSELF
"Thats narrow she said. cynicallv.
"and eminently masculine. Existence to
me as a woman is no more to me than ex-
istence to you as man. | look sometimes
at women. They seem to me-nine-tenths
of them--to be either stupid or dreaming:
and since don't like stupid women. will
call them dreaming.
"What do they dream?" he asked.
ooh, they dream they are cOntented."
Then why wake them?" he interrupt
ed.