Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-06-09
IN LATER YEARS.
Ethel Harcourt's Story and the
Reward It Brought


Ethel uaroourt sat on u sunny south
veranda, idly looking out on o typical
southern California landscape in early
spring. The Cuyamaca was still white
with the lately fallen snow, and rugged
Ell Cajon showed to advantage in the
foreground. The lower slopes and the
valleys were green, occasional patches
of yellow showing where the violet,
now past its prime, or the poppy, in all
It's richness, found congenial home.
Miss Harcourt listened to the wild
songs of the birds, and underneath the
gay melody there ran minor strain,
like some half forgotten song which is
recalled by an old association.
Her mind glanced swiftly over tho
last ten years in her California home.
Her mothers illness and death, her
fathers loss, not only of wife, but of
fortune Their retirement to this lone
ly ranch among the hills EYES," she
said to herself, "the gay, unrofecting
girlhood in Now England seemed lil1o
something in another age. Not u feel
ing, not hope, not n desire in common
with that young creature" She
thought with smile, as one might
think of another, that in those years
she was fair to look upon. The clear,
bright eyes, the softly rounded cheeks,
the mass of rebellious hair which tan
gled and curled in spite of her plaits.
Why did those years, especially those
months spent at the Atlantic View,
come back with such vividness? Sud-
denly she was seized with an overpow-
ering desire to write. Not the beauty
of the landscape, not the nameless pro-
auctions of the soil, not the present,
but the past made her pen fly swiftly.
She felt as if impelled by power from
without, and described the first ro-
nance, with its sad little ending,
which she experienced that summer at
Atlantic View.
The years rolled back on either side
and she saw clearly as n woman what
she failed to understand as q child-lilIe
girl. AS she wrote she found herself
making Arthur Lindlcy one of the main
figures and herself the other. The tall,
impetuous young fellow, free, rich,
handsome. He was courted by many,
and admired by all. How, then, did it
happen that he should have shown such
eager delight in her society, flushing
with pleasure when she appeared and
attending her like her shadow? The
young Ethel was led to believe in the
sincerity of the lad, when he told her
| frankly that there was no girl to be
compared with her, not one. No one
was so true, so honest, so unaf-
fected. What a series of scrapcs the
| boy did get into, to be sure, and how
he confided them all to her and asked
her advice, for he had no mother and no
sisters. "But / don't want you for my
sister," he had said, with twinkle in
his blue eyes.
Those long mornings on the beach,
when the bathers made merry and the
loolkers-on lined the sands, those after
moons of idle swinging in a hammock
till the long shadows made game of
tennis possibility; those soft evenings,
when the cottages looked like fairy
places and the band played dreamy
music in the park; they all foated
through the halls of memory.
| Ethel Harcourt wrote spontaneously.
She saw, with the perception of mature
years, tho tangled web in which her
girlish feet were caught. She remem-
bered the days when there crept into
and between the comradeship an alien
note. How or when it began she could
not tell, but her instinct warned her of
tho approaching danger. Arthur Lind
Icy no longer came with his outbursts
and condolences. He seemed to be
watching her, to be weighing and COM
pairing her words, holding her at a
hostile distance. There was nothing
which could have been told, no one
word or sentence which separated them,
only q growing atmosphere of distrust
on one side, and maiden shyness and
reserve on the other. At last there
came an outbreak from him; bitter,
unlxind words and mysterious illusions,
Ethel tried to have him explain himself,
but 1t had no effect. She had treated
him shabbily, he. who had been hen
best friend. No one could bear such
things, and he would not bear then
any longer. There could be no expla
nation; no, he would not hear one
word, but would bid her "good morn
ing" After this they would meet a.
strangers
Ethel was a girl who held her heat
very high, and she would not for mo
ment have young Lindley think tina
she missed his faithfulness. 1t wa
very easy to accept Mrs. Hsarst's view
OF the matter, and drift into intimat
companionshlp with her nephew, A
Hearst, young man whom Ethel hat
always shrank from, but who was nov
| a gift from fate She saw now hov
easily she was entangled, how the ap
pearances were against her, and hov
| she lent herself to her own misery. Fo
| Il was misery for a few days. She coul'