Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1894-01-05
THAT UMBRELLA.

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'If didn't look as if / were trying to
gain some benefit from your umbrella" he
remarked as he chaneed to meet her on
the church steps after service, II would
ask to walk home with you. l didn't ex-
pect rain when left home, SO am unpre-
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 a woman passed, like them, I'M
der one umbrella. but, unlike them, the
woman was held snugly close to the man s
side as she chung to his arm. 1t was pref
ty picture of that open freedom which SO
undeniably marks q congenial man ana
wife, whose companionshiph has ripened into
frank trust.
AS they passed Robert Cartwright said,
half thoughtlessly perhaps: "They are SEN
sible. If two are tryingto use one umbrella
they are surely to be commended If they
strive to take up as little room as possible
Even lit be noon, won't you take my armf'
but they are plainly not such-such
strangers as we," she returned, conscious
that both were treading on dangerous
ground.
"Are we strangersw he asked quickly,
turning his eyes searchingly to her.
The pretty face grew triiie pale against
its light brown hair. A lump. seemed to
climb to her threat, but she returned brave
Iy, "Yes-that is, wen always be strangers
compared with them" -.
He stopped for an instant and gazed fix
eddy at her till a hot flush flew up from her
collar and swept under the velvet strings OF
her dainty brown bonnet.
"Always?" he asked simply.
Eyes. Why, can't you see that they are
mnrriedW ~"
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 a life in which all interest
and all energy We're dead. She had at last
arisen from 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 our lives. When finally she
stood before mirror and realized that that
changed creature was herself, n 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 a
wealthy wife. That was the reason that
she had thrust him back from her long ago,
just because of his poverty. Not that 1t
would pain her. thousand times no!
Hadn't she cried out night after night since
that starvation with him would be only
bliss?
But she 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 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 a beautiful woman, and her
wealth had opened boundless 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 all 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 II sudden shower
burst unexpectedly upon her. She gath
cred up her skirts in that particular way
SO characteristic of dainty woman and
was hurrying along, when all at once she
was conscious of q sharp. childish cry at her
side. Turning, she beheld a tall, sad faced
man trying to quiet a fretful baby of about
ayears, which held out its dimpled hands
to her and cried: mammal! Mammal
The gentleman strove to quiet it, and Ga
brielle started on. But sharp and piercing
came the cry of Mammal, and her heart
babe her linger.
For the first time the man spoke to her.
II must beg your pardon, madam. His
mother has Just died, and something about
you seems to have recalled her to him."
Gabrielle's heart softened at once. Going
straight up. she took the tiny, outstretched
hands in her own and murmured, Poor,
niNtherless little one"
The father held out his umbrella over her,
and for the first time she looked at him.
The face was Roberts!