Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-05-02
DISAPPOINTMENT.

most romantic little villages in America.
The beautiful lawns of the old family
homesteads stretch down to the very wa
ter's edge, and the shore is dotted with
white sails and moving, restless rowboats.
The breakers come in with ceaseless even
movement, making fluffy foam like the
lacy embroidery on baby's frock Huge
steamboats,, veritable palaces afioat, puff
sturdily and calmly along pushing up a
foamy spray Of water and leaving behind
a tumultuous tempest of boiling rapids.
Picturesque clam diggers, with their enor.
nous 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 tum-
BILE 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 Rad
cliffe. After her came Tom Darrows, q
handsome fellow and the idol OF the pet
ticoat portion of the village Tom and
Beatrice were excellent friends, distant
link of relationship giving them cousin
ly affection. They rowed together, played
tennis together, walked, drove and sang
together-in fact. they were the most con-
genial of companions. This day they had
planned short excursion along the
shores of the sound. They were going in
Toms canoe, and Beatrice had taken her
guitar with her.
''The sound looks as If 1t were singing
lullaby today, the waves come in with
such calm regularity, Beatrice remarked.
Tom laughed softly, and fitting back
his white yachting cap looked smilingly
at his pretty companion. You always
were sentimental little puss," said he.
"Now, when I looked at the water my
first thought was whether or not the
founders would bite day like this"
''Lullabies and founders" unused Bea-
trice. II suppose II were to mention
that the sky looked like blue velvet jew
81 case you'd remark that the sight Of a
few clouds reminded you that you needed
q new macintosh or that you should Or
der dozen pairs of overshocs. +" Then aft
er q pause she continues: II often wonder
how men ever write poetry or rolnances. I
think that Is certainly woman's work.
Men are such prosaic creatures" They
reached the little landing place. Tom help
ed Beatrice into the canoe, and they pad
died away, the easy motion Of the waves
making rowing comfortable. Beatrice be-
gan to sing some old college song.
II wish you'd stop that, Tom said i'm
patiently. II want to talk to YOU"
Beatrice ceased singing and made q
mock bow of submissiveness
II received telegram from father to-
day." said Tom. "He wants me to go to
Omaha at once. His confidential clerk Is
i'll, and he's in fix. Says he won't trust
his business matters to new man." II
can't tell you how sorry am" said she,
with queer little sob, that she considered
very weak and silly. II think-I think
Then she took up the guitar, and in Or
der to hide her unhappiness at the dismal
prospect of farewell she began to twang
the Instruments strings. After few mo-
ments Of that she said: Let's land here
The beach is SO sandy, and they say the
shells are beautiful"
Tom drew the canoe toward shore and
helped Beatrice out. They walked along,
and both felt loneliness almost indie
scribable They chatted about tho past
and tried to talk cheerfully of the future,
but through all their talk there was feel
ing of unhappiness that coming parting
always sends before it. As they returned
to the boat, Tom picked up large shell
that was beautifully colored with the tints
Of an opal and having the smooth face of
pearl. He gave the she'll 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: II didn't tell
you before, but leave at s tonight. My
. trunks are already ct the station, and I'll
not see you again before train time. So"
here he pressed her hand tonderly-''lit~
tie woman, Unjust say goodby, and do
hope 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 falling twilight
and whispered, "Oh, Tom, dear, can't
bear to have you go 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 that day when
you told me go suddenly that you were
going away. trust and know that you
will value 1t for Its pleasant associations.
am going to Omaha soon to be brides
maid for my dearest friend, Ethel Stod-
dard, 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 Beatrice
arrived at Omaha. Ethel was to be mar
ried the first week In February. There
was deal Of furrying and fussing when
Beatrice greeted her friend, and the house
was atmosphered with the general air Of
unrest that Invariably precedes marriage
ceremony. Ethels letters to Beatrice had
been brief and spasmodic, and the name
of the BRIDEGROOM had not been mention