Greenbrier independent. [volume] (Lewisburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1980, 1896-02-06
A COQUETTE'S STORY

ana mouth when she smiled i'll the fitful
way that had noticed in the short time
had known her. There was an intima-
ton that she had once been brighter Of
disposition, although there was n sweet
ness and gentleness i'll her manner now
that seemed to amply compen safe for
the listless, PARKWAY air that was ever
about her. After few months of ac-
quaintanCe that had brought me to the
belief that this creature was one of the
rarest of Gods creations, learned by
the mereSt chance, that the girl had a
story-that her disposition had not al
ways been the ideal one that had SO
completely captivated me. Once or twice
limited, in the gentlest way possible,
that the story should o. told to me, but
the great, brown eyes of the girl filled
with tears, and l ut once thought of
something else to talk about. Two or
three months nfterward, in the midst Of
a conversation, the young woman sud
denly left the channel of our talk and
said:
"YOu never heard, did you, that
was once known as the village CO.
quette?' "
WAS that your story?' laughed.
There is nothing funny about it, I"
tho girl returned seriously. cit hasn't
been so very long aRo-about two years,
think-that II changed. was pref
tier then than l am now.:and in my
youthful folly l thought that it was my
duty to play with the affections of all Of
the good fellows who were nice enough
to think that they liked me.
EARLY in my teens the boy Of all the
many of my acquaintance who was most
devoted to me was young Owen Rand
He was shy chap who did not boldly
declare for me rs others did, but in his
quiet way he was ever mt my beck and
call and ever ready to do any little serv-
ice that my caprice might suggest. He
knew the flowers / liked best, he knew
the candies that l thought the most
toothsome, and no wet day did fail to
find my forgotten rubber coverings wait
ing for me when school was over. Some
how thought only we'll of this fellow.
He never seemed to me us u sweetheart,
and once when he refused to take part
IN game that every one was playing |
reproved him Just rs / would u brother
1t did not occur to me then ; now know
that what l said pleased him. 1t indi-
Gated that had an interest in him that
thought of him AS one whom l might
command and reprOVe as my fancy indi-
Gated. l suppose that all girls are alike
In this partiCular-they never love the
brotherly boys any more than boys love
the sisterly girls. Owen continued his
unvarying Kindness throughout our
my biggest bouquet came from him. I
was disappointed because he did not
come down with the rest to say that he
was glad OF to make some other pretty
speech of congratulatiOn, but the other
boys did this without flowers, and they
made merry AT our house and ate all the
good things until there was neither time
nor victuals left. l forgot all about nv
devoted Owen IN the hilarity of that
evening, and when one of the bold,
handsome young fellows of the crowd
asked me to 90 to a concert with him
the next evening l forgot that there
might be another who would expect the
favor of my company, and the engage
ment was made. Owen came to see me
the next day, with more flowers, and
when there were no more good things to
eat, and he murmured his gentle con-
gratu latlons with such earnestness that
l almost loved him as we sat there to-
gether alone. He was disappointed when
told him that l could not go to the
concert with him, but he did not express
bitterness or denounce any one.
Some other time then," he said in
way that made me think that he did
not care enough about it, but since then
1 have thought that it was only his way.
won't weary you with the details of
how, month i'll and month out, he was
unselfshly devoted; how he did not Join
with the others i'll their vapid compi.
ments 0nd Ostentatious attentions; how
at length he came to me and said goodby
when he went out to Honolulu Oh a
venture that he thought would yield
fortune.
Let me hope, he said as 1 indif.
ferently extended my hand, let me hope
that when como back you will still be
here and still AS free us You are now
For moment / was silent, and
then with half tiippant air / said,
You may hope, After he was gone |
felt rather sorry for my conduct in send
ing him away, but when his letters be-
gan to come l saw that had been for
given. 1t was not long before the regu
lar correspondence became wearying to
me. There was TOO much of the element
OF business i'll it on his side, while l,
here at home, with all my friends and
With familiar associations was making
the best Of youth. SO L stopped writing,
and, after time of patient, one sided
correspondence, he stopped too
Months after had received nv last
letter from poor Ovens new home out
there III the heart OF the Pacific | had
note from his sister. Owen had come
back, and he was i'll. Would l come to
see him? felt, for the first time in the
long boy and girl acquaintance, o genu-
Inc interest. OF course / would 90. 1t
would seem so good to see his real, hon
est smile again; 10 feel the pressure of
his great, warm, unaffected hand, and
to hear his unstudied, earnest compli-
ments was sorry about stopping the
letters, and to make amend-there was
no other reason, l thought would
take extra pains with my toilet. When
L got to Owens house, l found the
place closed and quiet, with the air of q
serious illness about. There was a
trained nurse who moved noiselessly and |
Kept every one else on tiptoe Then |
learned for the first time that the Door
fellow had been brought home to die
Will never tell you in the simple Ian
guage at my commandwhat l felt, how
felt, as the truth came over my dazed
senses. Ttried to feel indifferent and to
express commonplace coincidence, but
nh,I,a.l A.