The record-union., 1892-07-16
DORIS IND |.
CHAPTER 7.

CHAPTER 7.
/ There was evil in front of rs, and much
aching of hearts and suffering. But the
throstle sang in the sycamore tree and the
swallows curved and twittered all about
US, and in the rich amber light we could
see that all was fair and good; 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 it twined over her
shoulder. We were in the orchard by
the old green wicket, where month ago,
before the blossoms had burst their bulbs,
she had allowed me to tell her an old tale,
and had said one word Of ner own TO give
it finish. And az the throstle sang his
love song, and the sun sank to his bed
behind the hills, 1 thought of then and
now, and my head lowered and kissed
her forehead gently. Then Doris sighed
| as ii spell was broken. For had come
to tell or my windtall; that / was no long
er poor man; that, instead of waiting
Tor years, we might begin our married
lie on my return from Canada III three
months or so; and the sudden happiness
Of the thing had wrapt US round and
. siicuced rs both. Now that the first flush
OF Ii was over, we remembered the fleet
ing minutes and fell TO talking. What
We said Is OF no account here; but so little
did we dream of harm, or accident OF ma
ture to cross our happiness, that we did
not once mention him, though we knew
he was coming next day, to stay, perhaps,
for some weeks as sick people do.
Then we said goOd-by, and L opened
the wicket to pass through: but, seeing
the wet in her eyes, fingered q while
longer till she was smiling again, when
/ let her 90. Bat / looked Dack again
every dozen yards or SO; and when 1 got
across the second meadow and stood by
the stile before Vaulting INTO the high
road, / could still see the straight white
figure among the green and the waving
handkerchief. So | asked God to keep
her, and went my way with the rose she
had given me. Walking home in the pink
twilight the heaviness at leaving her were
of as | looked into the future and saw
what was there, or rather what l pict-
ureJ in it. For when love is the warp
and fortune Of the woof, what will not the
shuttle OF fancy do?
y Yesterday things had been so different
Of all nay airy castles there seemed hardly
one left, and | had built q good lew. Be
fore | knew Doris such Imaginings had
never troubled me, but when l had met
her at WlnchcOmD Flower Show love had
touched me with It's wand and all of a
in Chaucer's komaunt-fOr | had read q
thing or 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 [ had looked into
Doris eyes and she into mine. And
when, after many months, l plucked up
courage TO ask her heart how it was, and
she told me, the future Widened out in
such fashion that the sight of it nearly
made me iight-headed.
Had L known how things were I would
have held my tongue, through shame
and hOpelessness. But my father never
gave sign that ruin was near him: that
my comfortable heritage, as L deemed it,
was mortgaged to its last rood. The
crash came, and then the sale, and then
life in little cottage with broken-down
father and changed look out, which,
perhaps, made me oYer-moody. For
sometimes / despaired of ever possessing
Doris, or Of being able under many years
to support her in way fitting to her
upbringing. Everything would be
broken Oft and IL would all be dead
wall again.
1t was in some such humor that the
nOtary's letter found me that morning.
| had seldom heard OF Uncle Ben and
had never seen him. He had in early
manhood deeply wrOnged my father in
some way, and his name was rarely mem
toned. l handed the letter to father, and
he was dumb like myself, his face work.
ing strangely between anger and some
thing softer. Then he pat it down and
said: conscience money, lad, every
penny on it; but it's saved yer from my
Jolly, so tex it, an thank God Tor teachin'
Ben repentance an me forgiveness-no
easy lesson when brother. Well, well,
let it lie. Poor Ben!'
No wonder, then, that I saw visions
as l walked home in the light of the
aftermath. II was nearly dusk when
arrived at the cottage; and as l turned
for last look at the FURNISHED hills bat
came between me and the light and hut-
tered mockingly before me. But [
kissed my rose and laughed at the ait-
termouse.
I had lived some twenty-five years in
the world without knowing much more
Of it than what our valley and its neigh
bOrhoOd had to snow, so chat what / saw
on my long journey to my uncle's Cana
dian farm made me wonder and mar
vel, as young people do when they GO
for the first time beyond the mountains
and see what is there. But there is no
need to dwell upon that; and, moreover,
it doesn't concern the drift of what / am
telling you.
Nor need I say much about the farm
and personal estate which had come to
me by my uncles will. 1 foundth the
latter came to some $50, 200, chiefly in
vested in Northern Pacific and other
stock; and the former q large track of
prairie land, with house, farm buildings
and every appointment of first-class
property. There was d new railway
creeping up, which would double its
value in few years time; and it was for
me to say, after | had seen the place,
whether l should lot il or wait or sell it
right out. l wrote the lawyer, saying
that for the present ] would take it in
hand till the corn was safely harvested.
SO one thing leads to another, and we
prepare our own destiny without know
ing it. But l had looked at things in a
practical way and according to my lights.
and the Notary commended me, and
Doris sent q letter along saying: ''Y es
Jack, but don't tarry the threshing too"
which was only sWeGtheart-lke.
The weeks passed on, and 1 found
plenty to occupy and interest me, as
was natural. | let Boss Wilson keen
much of his authority-he had been in
charge OF the farm since the death, and
his lOquacious company was not disa-
greeable after l had learned to know
him. One day in the town near by |
happened upon a Worcester man-one
Henshaw-and his cianish good feeling
made the place still less lonely. Then
every week Doris wrote down her little
heart for me to read it, and l 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 and our souls
skipped out for a game Of dreams. She
was there and l was here, and soon there
would be no there and here, but only one
place and we in it.
Thinking TO this tune l jumped into
the saddle one August morning and rode
e .s.-.ua.