Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1894-11-29
A Double Wooing.
Bv Clara Dixon Davidson.

By Clara Dixon Davidson.
- HE stays in the house too much.
~ Send her to the seaside every
~ day; that's the decease and the
remedy, in my opinion said
DR.. Bently, ,oracularly. 'Call it nervous
prostration, or what you like, but take
her to the seaside every sunny day.
u will if l can but Gertrude is so
| obstinate,' complained Mrs. Morey.
MI go if I may 60 alone hastily
promised Gertrude; but l won't haye
Jay sent along to keep ne from tum-
bling over the sea-wall, and Ellen fol-
lowing with shawis and umbrellas and
lunch enough for ten harvesters. am
not very ill and am not baby
All right said DR.. Bently, nodding
good humorously at the mother, Net her
learn to take care Of herself, Mrs. Nor,
ey.'
Gertrude knew very we'll why she
was beginning to look like the ghost of
her former self; why her appetite was
capricious, her rest fitful, and her face
full Of melancholy. Although Page
Turner, her lover, to whom she had
promised herself in marriage, lived in
Oakland and she in San Francisco, he
had neither visited her nor written to
her for four weeks.
Mrs. Morey. seeing that her daughter
received occasional letters, thought, as
matter Of course, that some of them
came from Page, and made no inquiries,
and Gertrude's mental condition re.
mained unsuspected by her family.
Like most people in sorrow, Gertrude
wished to be alone and so, instead Of
going where every one goes-to the
Cliff House OF Sutro Gardens, or the
beach near them-she went through the
Preside, past the fort round black Point
and so to lonely, little-frequented but
very rugged and picturesque stretch Of
seashore.
After walking much farther than was
good for her, she threw herself down,
thoroughly exhausted. and dreamily
watched the Oft fought battle between
the waves and rocks. She sat on the
sand her head reclining against r gray
stone, warm in the sunshine, and thought
of her lover, so long absent and silent,
the sad song Of the ocean molding her
thoughts into deeper melancholy. She
closed her eyes and thought yet more
dreamily of Page. His handsome face,
at once strong and kind, seemed to rise
before her in reproach of all her doubts
about him Perhaps he was i'll or dead;
surely he was not unfaithful.
Pardon me, young lady. but you'll
get your feet Wet
Gertrude opened her eyes just as she
felt herself grasped firmly about the
waist, and half-dragged, half-carried a
few steps higher and saw great wave
splash against the rock that had sup
ported her head.
Ut is the voice of Page, she thought
tumultuously, but he called me young
lady Could l be mistaken in that
voice"
All this had been the work Of g MON
ent.
When the arms had released her Ger
trude turned to look into the face of her
rescuer, and saw that she had made no
mistake.
But the eyes of Page met her just as
the eyes of stranger might have met
her-with kindness, interest admiration,
but without recognition.
u am grateful for the service you have
rendered me- she said. i was very
thoughtless. I suppose mamma has
been privately setting you to watch over
me-
He seemed greatly surprised at this
speech, and said:
Mo. Your mamma-that stoat wom-
an rounding the point yonder!'
Surely you know that my mamma is
not stout 7
Surely l know nothing Of tie kind /;
how should I know?
he seemed perfectly serioua.
Gertrude looked at him critically.
Could she have mistaken his identity?
There was every feature just as she
knew it, there was the tiny crease be-
tween his eyes-his 'think-wrinkle, as
she had often playfully called it there
was the stubby little finger on his left
hand with it's first joint missing there
was the stubborn lock Of hair and his
old habit of constantly lifting his hand
to push it back.
No, no; she could not be mistaken
YOU are an actor she said at last
who would haye suspected itT