The Coconino weekly sun., 1896-08-20
THE TRAIN CANNOT WAIT

She is just IS, with golden hair and gray eyes-large gray eyes that laugh just as well as her red lips; her figure, though a little frail, makes one think what a pretty woman she will be soon. Her hands and arms are those of q child-is she not still n child? Clara left school but a fortnight ago. She is the beloved and only daughter of a rich miller in the neighborhood of Avesnes.
 Nothing is more poet;cal than a mill in the country. It does not disturb the silence of the air with it's monotonons tic-tac; on the contrary, its noise, strong and regular, is like an accom- paniment to the many other noises of the wind, and of the trees, and of the birds. Clara was charmed with it all
 During few days after her arrival the whole house was npset, making and receiving calls. dinner parties, dancing parties, lawn tennis; the days were not long enough to hold their pleasures. Then all was quiet at the mill.
 In the orchard, which was large, the walks were spread over with sand. and the trees. loaded with fruit. afford cd beautiful shady grove. This was Claia's favorite nook; here she would go and read poetry. She had been given the works of Lamartine, beautifully bound. Now, Lamartine, is a very ten der poet, and Clara was still in her teens. and this was summer, and the fragrance of the flowers and the mur- mur of the breeze acted on her young mind; and through this book she would dream of things she had never dreamed of before.
 One day her mother asked her if she remembered her cousin Albert.
 "Oh. yes, indeed" said she. This an swer came from her heart, she blushHd and from her neck to her brow she :. felt that sort of electricity that is pro- 7 duced by little shame and a great pleasure.
 ''Well," said her mother, lyon will see him very soon."
 Clara was about to say: "Oh. how glad l am!" but she thought it more proper to say nothing.
 And why was she silent? will tell you. It was because she had read La martinc. Why! does poetry make ore false? Well, I don't know, but it speaks of love--and what is love?
 Well" said Clara. "I have not seen him for two years. l suppose he is changed!"
 Not more than you." said her mother, casting n loving glance of admiration to her daughter; you were little girl when you went away-you are young lady now"
 Clara ran off to her beloved grove to hide the blushes on her checks and the heatings of her heart. She sat down, drew from her pocket her volume of poetry, but read not q line.
 Albert arrived a few days before he was expected, but she was thinking of him. She always had roses on her cheeks. but these roses changed into peonics when she saw him, and her hands trembled. He took hold of those hands and kissed her on both cheeks.
 He was medical student who had not yet in his brain the least thought of anything serious: he had suddenly dis covered in himself vocation for the beautiful science of Aesculapius. that he might go to Paris to spend few years of his life and waste few thou sands of his fathers francs.
 "Ah! little cousin" said he, "you are pretty now. Why, l am afraid shall fall in love with you"
 She looked at him, not knowing what to say.
 Have you forgotten the good times we had in this garden, and over there in the woods?"
 "Oh. mo-" said she.
 And when we would go rowing and would scare you by swinging to and fro in the boat to capsize you?"
 ''Oh. no, 1 remember it all."
 "Then why don't you put your arms around my neck and say pleasant things to me as you did then?"
 "I don't know" she faltercd.
 Then he said to himself: ''This cousin of mine must be a little simpleton."
 Well" said he, aloud. "and what is this book?"
 'Lamartinc. It is beautiful"
 don't think so. think it stupid" then seeing that she was somewhat abashed. he added "Why does it dis please you that I should not care for Iamartine?"
 Because I love his poems."
 '"Well, if l read poetry want Alfred de Musset. l shall send you his works when get to Paris"
 At this moment they heard quick ana firm step on the sandy walk, and young man came upon them.
 Excuse me, mademoiscllc." said he, have just learned that Albert is here ana have come to shake hands,"
 An old saying came to Clara's mind: TWO is company: three is crowd" She was too well behaved to say it, so