The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1895-05-30
A ROMANCE.


America. The beautiful lawns of the
old family homesteads stretch down
to the waters edge, and the shore is
dotted with white sails and moving,
restless rowboats. The breakers come
in with ceaseless, even movement,
making a fluffy foam like the lace en-
broidery on 4 baby's frock. Huge
steamboats,, veritable palaces at1oat,
puff sturdily and calmly along, push
ing up a fOamy spray of water and
leaving behind tumultuous tempest
of boiling rapids. Picturesque clam
diggers, with their enormous forks
and rakes, tramp along the beach,
their queer figures standing out in
sharp contrast with the crowds of
jolly bathers, who splash and shrek
and tumble around with the agility of
mermaids playing at hide and seek.
Down the bOX-edged walks OF one of
the sleepy old mansions came Beatrice
Radcliffe. After her came Tom Oar
rows, and the idol Of the petticoat por
ton of the village. Tom and Beatrice
We're excellent friends, a distant link
of relationship giving them cousinly
affection. They rowed together, played
together; in fact, they were the most
congenial of companions. This day
they had planned a short excursion
along the shores Of the sound. They
were going in Toms canoe, and Beat
rice had taken her guitar with her.
1.-The sound looks as if it were sing
ing a lullaby to-day, the waves come
in with such calm regularity" Beat
rice remarked.
Tom laughed softly, and, fitting back
his white yachting cap, looked pleas
antly at his pretty companion. "You
always We're sentimental little puss,"
said he. ''Now, when looked at the
water my first thought was whether
or not the founders would bite a day
like this
"Lullabies and founders" unused
Beatrice. II suppose if were to men
ton that the sky looked like a blue
velvet jewel case you'd remark that
the sight of few clouds reminded
you that you needed a new mackin-
tosh or that you should order dozen
pairs of overshoes." Then, after
pause, she continued: II often won
der how men ever write poetry or TO-
mances. I think that is certainly
woman's work Men are such prosaic
creatures They reached the little
landing place. Tom helped Beatrice
into the canoe, and they padded
away, the easy motion of the waves
making rowing comfortable. Beatrice
began to sing some old college song.
Il wish you would stop that" Tom
said impatiently. Il want to talk to
you"
Beatrice ceased singing and made
mock bow Of submissiveness.
Il received telegram from father
to-day" said Tom. He wants me to
90 to Omaha at once. His confidential
clerk is i'll, and he is in fix. Says he
won't trust his business matters to
new man.
Il can't tell you how sorry 1 am"
she said, with a queer little sob, that
she considered very weak and silly.
Il think-1 think" Then she took
up the guitar, and in order to hide her
unhappiness at the dismal prospect of
farewell she began to twang the in
struments strings. After a few mo-
ments of that she said: Lets land
here. The beach is so sandy, and they
say the shells are beautiful"
Tom drew the canoe toward the
shore and helped Beat rice out. They
walked along, and both felt a loneli-
ness almost Understandable. They chat
tered about the past and tried to talk
cheerfully of the future, but through
all their talk there was a feeling of
unhappiness that a coming parting
always sends before it. AS they re.
turned to the boat, Tom picked up
large shell that was beautifully col
ored with the tiuts Of an opal and hav-
Ing the smooth face of a pearl. He
gave the shell to Beatrice.
1t was twilight when they reached
the little landing place and walked up
the box-edged pathway. At the door
Tom took Beatrices hand and said:
Il didn't tell you before, but I leave at
tonight. My trunks are already at
the station, and I'll not see you again
before train time. So'-here he
pressed her hand tenderly-"lit
woman, l must say goodbye, and l
90 nope that next summer We'll repeat
this happy one, although of. course
We'll meet before that time"
And with that he turned and left
her standing there in the doorway.
AS she heard the dying echoes of his
Footsteps Oh the gravel walk she
stretched her arms out into the gloom
of the failing twilight and whis-
pered: ooh, Tom, dear, 1 can't bear to
have you 60 away!'
"This penholder," wrote Beatrice to
Tom just before the great day of
holly and good will, twas made of the
shell that you picked up on the beach
the day when you told me so suddenly
that you were going away. | trust
and know that you will value it for it's
pleasant associations. I am going to
Omaha soon to be bridesmaid for nv
dearest friend, Ethel stoddard, and
of course will expect you to call. on
me. you wretched, neglectful man!
Please don't give this penholder to
your best girl"
New Years had passed when Beat
rice arrived at Omaha. Ethel was to
be married the first week in February.
There was a deal of hurrying and