The DeLamar nugget. [volume] (DeLamar, Idaho) 1891-1900, 1896-02-01
on the Long Dridge

There were two of then For weel
past she had been expecting at least
one perhaps both to speak, and she
had been troubled, fearing that when
the time came to decide, she might not
know what to say. At length one OF
them had spoken; not face to face
circumstances had interviewed to pre-
vent that but by letter which was
so eloquent, so pleading, that she seem
ed to hear his living voice sounding in
its every word.
The letter had come last night. She
had read and re-read it twenty times
and although the honest gray eyes of
the writer seemed to gaze beseechingly
up at her the while, she had hesitated
over her reply. She had lain awake,
thinking about it; she had fallen asleep
still undecided; probably she had
dreamed of it. Very early in the morn
ing she had started out of sound
slumber risen upon the instant, dress
ed herself quickly, and penned her an
swer. N ow she was going to post it
before she should have tims again
to change what she had come to regard
as her very changeable mind,
The village post office was on the op-
posite side of the river Her way lay
across the long bridge. Midway of it
she paused. A fair summer morning
gladdened the face of the earth. The
rays of the sun, which was peeping over
the eastern hills, glistened adown the
stream until the river seemed flowing
into a lake of FURNISHED silver. The
wide, green valley was waking to its
leisurely, untroubled daily life. The
atmosphere, polluted by no belching
factory chimneys, seemed purity itself
The stiffness was broken only by the
twitter of birds, the crow of distant
cock, or tho lowing of cattle. 1t was
scene Of perfect peace; yet, as the girl
gazed, she heaved a little sigh as Of re-
greet for something She leaned upon
the rail, toying idly with the letter in
her hand. She looked down upon the
smooth, sluggish waters of the river,
but her thoughts were far away.
A sound of footsteps reused her from
her reverie. She glanced up, startled,
blushing. 1t was the other, the brown
eyed one. He came, half diffidently, I
and stood by her side. She moved a
little that he might do SO not because
there lacked sufficient room, but that
he might be assured of welcome.
He uttered some commonplace.
She responded, scarce realizing what
she said. A silence interviewed He
spoke again, in lower tones, of a matter
of more Importance. She murmmed
something in return, but would not
look at him. He bent forward and
whispered in her ear The color left
her cheek, the hand that held the letter
trembled. From these signs of agita-
ton he dared augur well for himself.
He laid one hand lightly on her Shout
der, and with the other gently turned
her averted face toward his own. I'm
der the compelling force of his gaze she
honest gray eyes faded before the elo-
quent brown eyes there in actual pres
ence. In one instantaneous flash he {
read the blissfuI truth Forgetting &
everything else, he folded his arms |
about her, and pressed her to his heart i
The letter dropped from her hand |
and fell through the open railing. He c
Jaw it fiutter down and cried out in c
1ismay. She reassured him. The loss e
If the letter was of no consequence, v
she said Let it go; she could write an f
'ther. So it aoated away to the I'M e
Known sea. il
When she returned she did write an c
other, but it was as unlike the first as c
hight is unlike day Luck, the long h
bridge aiding, had gone against the h
ray eyes. Frank NJ. Biclknen in the a
funsey Magazine. "