Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1894-04-11
CHAPTER III.


if my child friend did not pass entirely
out of my mind, she at least became q
very indistinct image on my memory.
had become quiet, mature citizen of
the United States, with no fancy what
ever for the sight of blood, and without
the slightest prediction for making
vows. The one had made so long be-
fore I was not disposed to regard as
strictly binding, and should any reason
occur for its breaking l did not look
upon it as serious obstacle.
was sitting one summer afternoon
on the porch of hotel facing one of the
New England beaches, chatting with a
friend-a lady. The porch ran nearly
around the hotel. twas the hour when
the young lady sojourners, dressed in
tasteful costumes. promenaded. some
times three or four abreast, back and
forth; quite enough of them, thought,
to form a battalion of beauty. Sudden
ly, in one of the platoons that tramped
by, appeared one who, as she passed,
nodded pleasantly to the lady with
whom l was sitting. The salutation
was unstudied, yet not familiar
''Who is thatY' 1 inquired quickly.
"Miss Ward"
''Her Christian name?'
edith"
'No, no; her other manner
''She has no other"
"Isn't it Delia?"
"Simply Edith. Would you like to
know her?'
I rested back in the chair, from which
had started.
"Thank you; I'll not trouble you. l
shall not be here long"
The next afternoon was standing on
the porch with my friend taking my leave.
A bevy of young girls approached, and
one of them, wishing to speak to my
friend, stopped for the purpose. In a
twinkling I was introduced to the whole
party. One of the young ladies was Miss
Ward.
There was about this girl certain
high born reserve which alternated with
an engaging frankness and sprightliness.
There were two sides to her disposition;
the one merry, the other serious. A low,
melodious laugh expressed keen enjoy
ment to perfection, but if anything &C.
Cured to divert her from merriment to
seriousness there came without warning
that which never failed to inspire me
with kind of awe.
Instead of departing at once, as in
tended, did not leave the hotel for four
weeks l prolonged my stay, notwith-
standing number of resolutions to the
contrary, until began to censure myself
for being weak. At last, perceiving that
my stay was noticed by my friends, re-
solved to leave Immediately.
On the evening on which I made this
new-and determined it should prove
an revocable-resolution l CHANGED to
be sitting on the portico with-Miss
Ward. The moon was at the full, and
came out of the ocean as the sun set. It
seems singular to me now that l should
have presumed to speak so confidingly
to one l had known so short time.
Besides, my companion had not encour-
apAd any special confidence on my part.
Indeed, regretted that she had ceased
to treat me with the unconventionality
OF the others, and seemed at times a
trifie constrained. What it was that led
me to confide in her on the evening
mentioned can scarcely conceive, un-
less it was that exquisite hour-the most
delightful to me of all hours of the day
when the newly risen full moon stands
on the horizon as if pausing to survey
the landscape, and then begins to rise, a
great Illuminated ball. in the heavens.
Whatever was the cause, l touched
upon several episodes in my life, among
them the story of my meeting little
Della in the park in Germany, twelve
years before. 1 gave a minute account
OF what occurred; the child's appropria-
ton of the park flowers, the approach of
the policeman, the honest confession.
When l came to speak of her departure,
"Here," I said, putting my finger on my
scarfpin, sis the mate to keepsake |
gave her."
what beautiful cancel" She looked
at it closely. II think have noticed it
in your scarf before"