Blackfoot news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1891-1902, 1895-08-24
A ROMANCE.

old family homesteads stretch dowr
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 a baby's frock. Huge
steamboats,, veritable palaces atioat,
puff sturdily and calmly along, push
ing up a foamy spray of water and
leaving behind a 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
were excellent friends, a distant link
of relationship giving them a 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.
The sound looks as if it were sing
ing lullaby to-day, the waves come
in with such calm regularity" Beat
rice remarked.
Tom laughed softly, and, fitting back
antly at his pretty companion. "You
always were a 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 l were to men
ton that the sky looked like a blue
velvet jewel case you'd remark that
the sight of a few clouds reminded
you that you needed a new mackin-
tosh or that you should order a dozen
pairs of overshoes." Then, after a
pause, she continued: 81 often won
der how men ever write poetry or ro-
mances. l 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. II want to talk to
you"
Beatrice ceased singing and made a
mock bow of submissiveness.
II received a telegram from father
to-day" said Tom. He wants me to
go to Omaha at once. His confidential
clerk is i'll, and he is in a fix. SAYS he
won't trust his business matters to a
new man"
Il can't tell you how sorry | am"
she said, with a queer little sob. that
she considered very weak and silly.
Il think-I think" Then she took
up the guitar, and in order to hide her
unhapptness 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 50 sandy, and they
say the shells are beautiful"
Tom drew the canoe toward the
shore and helped Beatrice out. They
walked along, and both felt a Ioneli-
ness almost indescribable. They chat
tered about the past and tried to talk
cheerfully of the future, but through
all their talk there was a feeling of
that a coming parting
always sends before it. AS they re.
turned to the boat, Tom picked up a
large shell that was beautifully col
ored with the tiIits of an opal and bay-
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 Beatrice's hand and said.
Il didn't tell you before but | heave at
tonight. My trunks are already aft
the station, and I'll not see you again
before train time. SO"-here he
pressed her hand tenderly-"Iittle
woman, | must say goodbye. and
10 hope that next summer wen repeot
this happy one, although of course
we'll meet before that time"
And with that he turned and loft
her standing there in the doorway.
AS she heard the dying echoes of his
footsteps on the gravel walk she
stretched her arms out into the gloom
1f the failing twilight and wbis-
)ered: ''Oh, Tom, dear, / can't bear Ia
nave you 90 awayw
This penholder," wrote Beatrice IN
Tom just before the great day of
lolly and good viii, "was made Of the
,heil that you picked up OH the beach
ne day when you told me so suddenly
nat you were going away. | trust
md know that you will value it for its
pleasant associations. / am going IN
omaha soon to be bridesmaid for INV
learest friend, Ethel Stoddard. and
i course will expect you to call ON
ne you wretched, neglectful man!
lease don't give this penholder to
our best girl"
New Years had passed when Peat
Ice arrived at Omaha. Ethel was 10
e married the first week In February
mere was a deal of burrying and