The National tribune., 1895-11-28

4
fGtI 10y head in the clasp of her hot
49, Nv hands, her eyes leaving the
EM-ss8 valley with its swaying maize
fields, its miniature houses. lis
rocky, winding ways, and its palma-christi
trees to wander to the pass that led througt
the Washita Hills to the world beyond.
: Truth had looked with longing eyes at this
narrow pass every evening of her life, il
seemed TO her, yet had never gone out of IFS
rugged archways. She lived in TIE Washita
| Hills. but her thoughts were dwellers in the
rrest world that lay outside their close en-
| brace-the world where she believed every
hope was some day realized and every JOY
| reached, in Time, its fruitioD; where every
| heart found some time its answering heart,
and every life was rich in noble deeds and
warm experiences. Poor, deluded child OF
the hills! She longed TO 90 out to this
world she little knew; longed with an
| hourly longing that grew as her life grew
and ripened; but those pitiless tyrants,
those stern-faced, iron hearted dictators,
Fare and Duty, kept her a rebellious dweller
in the Washita Hills
She sighed that night leaning wearily
bgck in the depths of the chair that was
much too large for her Slight figure; sighed
heavily, and the grandmother inside the
own girlhood, unders ood.
A spray OF wistaria vine foated across
| Truths face. She pushed 1t away, startling
the soft-voiced swallows sleeping in its
branches into a murmur of Temonstrance
that gradually Y swelicd into burst of good
night song. There are times in each oi our
! lives when the most exquisite harmony Is
! only a dlscordant clash of sound that jars
our tired nerves 10 torture. Truth caught
the drifting branch and shook il fiercely to
silence tie now thoroughly awakened song
sters; the insecure fastening Of the vine gave
way with sudden snap at the roughness OF
her touch and fell about her shoulders in
SOFT green mass, the tiny tendrils clasped
close an her damp, dark hair, the purple
blossoms over her coarse black gown.
man climbed the fence of the little
do1ryard and came swinging slowly up the
pa h. laughing drolly nj her mishap.
"Yau'ns looks like az fairy queen, or
wood-nymph, Truthie," his slow, sonorous
voice said, while his eyes said more, much
more.
DO we'uns, indeed ?n she drawled, mock
! ingly. flushed al her accident and his thor
ough enjoyment Of IL.
Ills face colored little at the tone; he
| looked anxiousiy at her, then swung him
sell MP beside her.
"Ill help you ont of yer difficulty; We
can't get it of alone"
She bent to him. submitting in silence 10
the assistance lie so eagerly proffered. And
he, poor fellow, he could not help it that
hlS grsai hands trembled al the touch of her
hair, or that his voice was tender with emo
zion as be said, simply:
How soft vour hair is Tru;hiei"
NoW. Truth was in an aggressive mood
that Summer night; the old longing had
heen upon her all the day The old longing
and the old restless spirit of unceasing re-
bellion. She was tired, too-tired from hard
pbysical labor iaat made her hands aDd her
head ache piiiiully; tired from the fierce
ACTIVITY Of her brain that made her heart
lhrob and beat in anguish She hated, too,
10 be called 1'ruthie, and somehow that
night she hated the touch of ihose honest
baud. on her hair and the sound OF the slow
voice in her ears.
I" Your hands are not soft, though" she
cried, pettishly. can help myself better
than you are helping me. Please quit"
. ] am sorry ] hurt ye, dearie" His voice
a trifls iremnlons
On, il don't much matter am used to
pam" she said weaiily.
He went around and sat down upon the |
steps al her feet. looking her straight in the |
face with his anxious, searching eyes
What's wrong tonight, Truth 2" he |
asked, quietly.
Everything is wrong, nothing is right" |
she flashed, in hot rebellion, snaiching the 1
tendrls loose from her hair and thrusting 4
the vine from her For an instant il wavered /
on the mOtionless air, then fell III dark /
green heap ia the shadows at her feet, its /
purple blossoms scattered all over her gown.
Sine got up, aud going to the edge of the |
porch brushed them carefully away, till only |
one petal, caught in the fullness at her throat, 1
remained 10 relieve the blackness of her /
gown.
EEerythin'-how
This, for one thing" turning and hold /
ing out TO him her trembling hands They /
would have been delicate, shapely hands |
had they belonged TO an idle woman, but
work had disfgured them, and there were
great scared and caloused places in the
brown palms "That is one trouble, che /
continued. pantingly; the other is here, at |
my heart"
The grandmother, swinging back and forth /
in her shadowy corner, felt iears on her |
wilhered checks. She knew this feeling of /
unrest that possessed the heart of her grand |
chlid, This fierce rebellion at the narrow life /
they led, ihis burning desire to share in the |
wider experiences of life TO have a more /,
thorough knowledge of the great world she |
had been born into.
The tan-faced mother, coming wearily |
down the mountain-side with pail OF milk |
ia either hand, knew the ungovernable long
ing that walled in her daughters heart; the |
echo OF il, faint and mayhaps slowly dying |
fingered with strange insistence in her
own.
But this practical, unimaginative, easy
going man, welded as he was to the simple
life of the Washita Hills, could not under
stand or sympathize with feeling like this
HIS face took on a look of slow surprise at
her words-if they had been thrusis of a
saber at his heart he could not have been
more startled he rose, and. looking straight
into her eyes, said slowly, steadily:
" i didn't think youns was a shirker o.
yer duty, Truth kilmen.n
She didn't finch at the words or the look
from his accusing eyes. He thought she
did not mean 20 answer him, she stood so
sill and silent before him, like a statue of
marble, with life only in the eyes that blazed
deianily into his own.
And so you talk TO me Of duty, do you,
Henry Harrington ," she asked, finally.
DO you think have not heard enough on
that subject? All my life long the river
1 has whispered of the life ii knows out
/ there" pointing 20 the Pass "but when
] ,.nd l,a