The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1894-01-09
THAT UMBRELLA.

eff didn't look as if I were trying to
remarked as he CHANGED to meet her on
the church steps after service, II would
ask to walk home with you. didn't ex-
pect rain when left home, SO am UMPIRE
pared"
However" came her clear reply, just
arch enough to be frank, ''if you'll carry
my umbrella and let me turn my energies
to keeping my dress caught up out of the
mud, I'll be very thankful to you"
They had walked, strangely enough, half
way home in most complete silence, when
a man and woman passed. like them, I'M
der one umbrella, but, unlike them, the
woman was held snugly close to the mans
side as she chung to his arm. 1t was pref
ty picture of that open freedom which SO
undeniably marks a congenial man and
wife, whose comp partnership has ripened into
frank trust.
As they passed Robert Cartwright said,
half thoughtlessly perhaps: ''They are sem
sible. If two are trying to use one umbrella,
they are surely to be commended if they
strive to take up as little room as possible.
Even if it be noon, won't you take my armP"
but they are plainly not such-such
strangers as we," she returned, conscious
that both were treading on dangerous
ground.
care we strangers?" he asked quickly,
turning his eyes searchingly to her.
The pretty face grew trifie pale against
it's light brown hair. A lump seemed to
climb to her throat, but she returned brave
", ''Yes-that is, we'll always be strangers
compared with them"
He stopped for an instant and gazed fix
eddy at her till hot flush few up from her
collar and swept under thevelvet strings Of
her dainty brown bonnet.
"Always?" he asked simply.
Eyes. Why, can't you see that they are
married."
She tried to laugh it away, but it would
have been difficult to tell which pair of lips
quivered the more, or which pair Of eyes
swan in the deepest mist as the two started
on, both silent, both sad, both realizing that
a little tragedy had occurred in that brief
instant under that dripping umbrella.
Eight years went by and found Gabrielle
Vaughne alone in the world, with necessity
for keeping up life in which all interest
and all energy were dead. She had at last
arisen from a tedious illness, and the nurse
herself hardly recognized the tall, pale, sad
faced woman, with the short, dark curls, as
the bright eyed, light haired girl of six
months before.
Gabrielle had one thing dear to her, and
only one, and that was memory. And
some Of our dearest memories are the cru
elest parts of cur lives. When finally she
stood before mirror and realized that that
changed creature was herself, a mighty re-
solve filled her-she would go to the source
of that memory.
She knew where he was; she knew that
he had married three years after that bitter
morning in the rain and had married
wealthy wife. That was the reason that
she had thrust him back from her long ago,
just because Of his poverty. Not that it
would pain her, a thousand times no!
Hadn't she cried out night after night since
that starvation with him would be only
bliss?
But sh had known his ambitions and his
capabilities; knew his dreams of success,
and she realized his ability to turn the
dreams to realities. She was poor. Would
she permit herself to hang a milestone
about his neck? Would she hold him al
ways in the depths of poverty by being his
wife and the mother of his needy children?
No. she would hurt his heart before she
would ruin his life.
Time had proved that she had been right.
His wife was beautiful woman, and her
wealth had opened houndless opportunities
to him. He had risen-she had known that
he would. But now that she scarcely was
able to know herself she would venture into
his world and see for herself how happy and
prosperous he was.
So, having spent ell but her last sover-
eign for her ticket, she stepped into Lang
imam one spring evening" steeling her heart
to what might follow. The next evening
she had walked past his great house and
was starting back, when a sudden shove,
burst unexpectedly upon her. She gath
cred up her skirts in that particular way
10 characteristic Of IL dainty woman and
was hurrying along when all at once she
was conscious OF a sharp, childish cry at her
side. Turning, she beheld a tall. sad faced
man trying to quiet fretful by of about
syears, which beld out its dimpled hands
to her and cried; Mamma! Mammar'
The gentleman strove to quiet It, and Ga.
briele started on. But sharp and piercing
came the cry of "Mamma'' and her heart
babe her linger.
For the first time the man spoke 10 her
Il must beg your pardon, madam. Ills
mother has just died, and something about
you seems to have recalled her to him."
iabriele's heart scftened at once Going
straight up, she took the tiny, outstretched
hands in her own and murmured, Poor,
mctherless little one"
The father held ont his umbrella over her.
aud for the first time she looked at him.
The face was Roberts!
She was glad Tor the excuse of turning to
the baby again and murmured something
unintelligible.
However, he had not recognized her. so