The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-07-07
News NOVELTIES, No. 6.
The Montpose Whites
Bv AUGUSTA LARNED
Copyright. 1884 by American Press Association
BY AUGUSTA LARNED.

A<oulbe, now UuQlbClpAiuols raw Will
out knowledge Of men or Of the world
lit all comes back to me with sense
of surprise am afraid you will find
me q little impetuous still. but II it
were all to do over again, II we could
he set back where we were in those
blissful old days, you would find, Lou
ise, that even my crudities have been
disciplined away; that at least should
not be SO vilely Jealous"
Perhaps / might not like you 90
well. T" returned Louise. with . little
tremulou3 smile.
Don't say that. Try to think only
Of the good and forget the faulty fellow
who made yop and himself ncedlessly
miserable. Do you remember Louise,
that day In juno we spent Mt the Hay
wood farm, our walk in the woods, our
little excursion ON the river: how we
drove home by moonlight, with all the
roadsides scented with new mown' hay
and dog roses?'
"Yes, yes" said she eagerly II re-
member 10 all--eyery leaf OH the trees,
every pebble In the road We fished
three hours, Frank, and we did not
have bite, not one, and then we lost
our way going home"
"How fortunate that was, Louisei Il
was that day, you remember, that you,
that ], that we pledged ourselves TO
each other. Oh, il that time could come
back, 1s,uIse you would find me wise.
and believe better man."
''Yes, sighed Louise, 'but IL we had
been wiser-if you had been q great
and distinguished professor, and a dis
Greet, prudent old maid-we shouldn't
have been half so happy, or $3.50 silly
and absurd. You find me wiser, too,
Frank" she added, with little laugh
Wisdom does not compensate for years
on the wrong side Of the ledger"
"But you are not old, Louise. You
are just the same, only more beautiful
to me, and with that little sarcastic
edge to your tongue, so fascinating and
delightful. Can you, will you renew
the old bond between us 80 absurdly
broken by fit of temper, n gust Of pas
sion? Will you make me the happiost of
men?'
She put out her hand again, and he
were but few words spoken.
''Do you know" said Louise at last,
"all that episode of my youth occurred
during the three years lived with my
Aunt Morris in X. The people here have
never heard word. They solemnly be-
lieve / was cut out for spinsterhood from
my cradle and have never had single
sentimental experieuca ~
But you will tell your friends now.
Louise?"
''Not for q little while. Frank. II is
all so new. so strange, 80 delicious,
wish to luxuriate in my emotions just
for few days before the bomb explodes
over Littlefeld'
"But am curious to know why you
were expecting me today. Was 1t case
of thought transformer
mo; not quite You had written 10
person here that you were coming"
"Yes, to be sure, to Helen White,
who wishes to consult me about course
of lectures ON the Philosophy Of the Pas
sions and Emotions. judged by her
note that she was little exalted, as the
French say. And is she friend of
yours!"
''Yes; my best friend here, with the
exception Of her Observation-Disclosures
White-whose father lived next door to
mine when we were children.
"Montrose White, said the profess
or, his face changing slightly. "Was not
that the man with whom you corre-
sponded, Louise? If am not mistaken,
1t was his letter that caused our rup-
ture."
eyes; Monte had always been like a
brother TO me. Our relations were con-
fidentiaL He had written, telling me
as great secret not to be divulged to
any one, that he was engaged to Helen
Cragshaw, my old schoolmate. There
was some opposition ON the part Of his
family. Old Deacon White was morally
as stiff az steelyards, and there had been
shady business transactions reported of
Helen's father. Monte had put seal
upon my lips until he could get his
fathers consent, and before the prohibit
tion was removed we had quarreled, and
then il was too late to explain. I"
The professor had fallen intoa muse
"How odd" said he after moments
silence, that this Helen White, who
has written TO me, should be the wife
of Montrose Whitei Well, well, how
strangely the threads Of our lives are
mingled She could not know, Louise,
that / was coming here solely to see
you, to speak to you again perhaps in the
foolish hope that you still remember
that dear past, and that you would re-
ceive me gently"
"You could not know, Frank, that I |
have always loved you"
mo, dear; was not so egotistic, 80
self confident as to believe such thing.
l could only interrogate my own heart.
You know, Louise, married. She was
a lovely girl, but always frail. I had
not much to give her but care and pro-
lection, but IL camo TO my knowledge
by accident that she had grown fond Of
me. i did what could to make her life
a -