Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1895-05-23

shall We say good bye? Ii Is getting late.
and have work to do yet
For one moment I've holds her close, not
venturing, even in this last moment, to
press his lips to those smaller ones, nor
look in the dark eyes, there sudden tears
are gathering. For one moment, and
then with a whispered word she releases
herself, and hurrics up the garden path
into the house.
Robert Joslyn walks slowly home
ward. his steps keeping time with some
lines hat ring in his mind:
"Glitter> the dew and shines the river.
Up comes the lily and rings her bell,
But two are walking apart forever.
And wave their hands for mute farewell"
He spent the night burying the hopes
that had withered like summer flowers
the fond, foolish dreams from which he
had so suddenly awakened. Every plan
he had made for the future WAS con-
were demolished like house OF cards.
But Robert Joslyn had no thought Of
allowing his loss to spoil his life. There
were certain heights he wished to climb,
and his heart WAS too brave to let this
unman him for the task. Though there
might always be sense OF something
lacking, he determined to fill the void
with work inasmuch as he could 1t
must be to him wife and child and home.
And everything prospered for him, so
that fifteen years later he was independ-
ent, influential, his opinion was quoted,
his advice followed by older men than he.
He rarely heard from Mollie Calne, never
knew that she WAS yet unmarried, and
one day he found that he was still re-
memb ered. He was wandering about
New York art gallery, and at once felt
his heart leap at sight of a painting on
the line.
1t was only a bit of an old moonlighted
garden, with glimpse OF low farm
house and struggling orchard. In the
foreground tangled vines trailed in rich
profusion over a stone wall where two
figures were standing, the silvery mist
clarifying the golden head OF the girl
whose small hands were nervously clasp
ing her companion's arm. He was look
ing down upon her with pleading face,
disappointment and regret written in
every line.
Robert never needed the curious eyes
upon him as the throng passed him by.
With sternly-compressed lips he gazed
upon the familiar scene, and the vague
hope hat until now he had not realized
underlaid the calm of all these years,
died within him. She had not forgotten,
but-could she, il she cared one-tenth as
deeply as he, could she portray with her
brush, for all the world to see. emotion
that should have been to her SO sacred?
He did not know, how should he. that
she had hoped il might meet his eye, and
recall to memory Mollie Calne, and now,
closely veiled, she watched him with
hungry eyes, longing to go to him, yet
held by a foolish pride. He passed SO
near her presently that she could have
stopped him; so near that he might have
heard her labored breathing, and she
gave no sign.
Fifteen years had brought her the sue
proved faithful friend to the girl, who,
the lady's enthusiastic love for art told
her, possessed talent, possibly genius.
She had taken her to revel among the
beauties and antiquities OF Europe to
spend long hours before the treasures of
famous galleries, and the best masters
were called upon to teach this obedent
pupil.
In return for all this wonderful
generosity, Mollie gave to Mrs. Trenham
a wealth OF gratitude. Her ready adap-
liability to her altered circumstances, her
winsomeness, her unconcealed amaze and
delight as day by day new wonders We're
presented to her mind, captiyated the
chidless woman and she bestowed her
love and care upon her gladly.
And now, at thirty-two, Mollie Calne
was alone in the world, mistress of her
benefactor's wealth, and with a name
that was becoming familiar in the art
circles OF the European capitals. She
returned to her native land after five
years Of almost constant wandering, with
q longing to settle down someW mere.
longing Tor nome. ~ neh sht lttl- IL,
girl. ehe lad faneied TINT a lie OF luxury,
4 life thai should achieve ali that her
ambition told her Was within her reach,
would satisfy her. leaving no room and
no de7ire for love and home. sir re
turned with the knowledge that she had
been mistaken.
Memories tAat had been thrust away
during the years OF study returned with
an acuteness that surprised her, Memo
ries oi her gir.hood. oil the luye once all
her eHn, Of the quiet, yet deeper happi-
ness tina; might have been hers. Some
times she dreamed that little ehiIdren's
Voices called her, little children with
Robert eyes, and pathetic lips that re-
preached her because they We're mother
less, and she would wake 10 stretch out
in no dprL