Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1895-03-25
DISAPPOINTMENT.

shoro Of Long Island sound Is one OF the
most romantic little villages In America.
The beautiful lawns of the old family
ter's edge, and tho shore Is dotted with
white snils and moving, restless rowboats.
Tho breakers como In with ceaseloss, even
movement. making fluffy foam like the
lacy embroidery on baby's frock. Hugo
steam boats, veritable palaces afioat puff
sturdily and calmly along, pushing up
foamy spray of water and leaving behind
q tumultuous tempest Of boiling rapids.
Picturesque clam diggers, with their enor-
nous forks and yakos, 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 camo Tom Darrows,
handsome fellow and the idol or the pet
ticoat portion of the village. Tom and
Beatrice wero excellent friends, a distant
link of relationship giving them cousin
ly affection. They rowod together, played
tennis together, walked, drove and sang
together-in fact. they wero 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 II 1t were singing
a lullaby today, the waves come in with
such calm regularity" Beatrice remarked.
Tom laughed softly, and tilting back
Ia so T. n OILS
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 day like this"
"Lullabies and founders, unused Bea-
trice. II suppose IL were to mention
that the sky looked like blue velvet jew
el case you'd remark that the sight of a
few clouds reminded you that you needed
new macintosh or that you should or
der a dozen pairs of overshoes." Then aft
er pause she continues: II often wonder
how men ever write poetry or romances. l
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.
Il wish you'd stop that" Tom said i'm
patiently. Il want to talk to you.'
Beatrice ceased singing and made a
mock bow of submissiveness.
Il 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 q new man." Il
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 disma! |
prospect Of farewell she began to twang |
the Instruments strings After 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 shore and |
helped Beatrice out. They walked along,
and both felt a loneliness almost inde-
scribable. They chatted about the past
and tried to talk cheerfully of the future,
but through all their talk there was a feel
ing Of unhappiness that coming parting
always sends before IL. 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 |
q 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 II didn't tell |
you before, but leave at tonight. Ny |
trunks are already at the station, and I'll |
not see you again before train time. So''
hero he pressed her hand tenderly-"lit-
tie woman, must 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 ON
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 60 awayI'
"This penholder, wrote Beatrice to
Tom Just before the great day OF holly ant,
Ro61 will, Twas made Of the shell that |
you picked up on the beach that day when
you told me 90 suddenly that you were
going away. trust and know that you
will value 1t for its pleasant associations.
4 oh kOiBB W Ououo ooOu W 10
maid for my dearest friend, Ethel Stod-
dard, and of course will expect you to call
on me, you wretched, neglectful mani
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 q deal of 1urrying and fussing when
Beatfice greeted her friend, and the house
was atmosphered with the general air of
unrest that invariably preccdes marriage
ceremony. Ethel's letters TO Beatrice had
been brief and spasmodic, and the name
Of the bridegroom had not been mention
ed. He was always dear boy" and "my
sweetheart" In Ethe's letters. SO tho
very day that Beatrice arrived there were
loads of secrets to divulge and gossip un-
measurable to be told.
"Oh, tho queerest thing happened"
Ethel bubbled almost before Beatrice had
removed her hat. ''Some girl sent the
dear boy the very sweetest Christmas pres
ent Won ever saw and what did tho sillv