The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1897-04-23
VII
VII.
THE LOGIC OF PROPINQUITY.

VII.
THE LOGIC OF PROPINQUITY.
When Philip was established in tha
duncan household he wrote to his
mother. 1t was a long letter, filled with
I testing raillery at the conditions of his
exile, but containing no hint of what
he believed to be the beginning of the
end in the matter of his malady. In
closing he spol:e of the Duncans:
"They are both characters, in a way, and
they would interest you if you could know
them. Duncan is typical Scot, upon whom
20 years of exile have left no American
izing mar. Ills epeech Is still of the
troad~st, and his cautious habit has written
itself in capital letters all over his homely
face. Mrs. Duncan is a person in whose
cheerful smile the blue devils quail ard
beg for another herd of swine. Could ap-
rreCative eulogy go further? Seriously,
though, they have made me very COM
fcrtable and snug in a painfully neat little
box Of room under the caves; their table
Is homelil1e and wholesome; and Mrs. Dun
/ cans hospitality is warm-hearted and cor
dial without being obtrusive. For the rest,
{ have half county of wild mountain range
! at my back upon which to spend the leisure
d that overflows the greater number Of my
waking hours, and you may tell DR.. Perevin
that / mean to take his outdoor preScrip-
ton in heroic doses.
"Show this letter to Helen, if you please,
/ and tell her I'll write her before long. Oh,
| yes; and watch the expression on god
| father Morrisson'S face when you tell him
that he can have few choice suburban lots
in Allacoochee at $200 front foot-at least
that was the price yesterday, though 1t is
| probably more now.
| II suppose l ought to write more, but
shan't; the spirit moves me to go and climb
mountain. Take good care Of yourself
and write often, addressing me care of
Mr.. Robert Protheroe, Allacoochee.
PHILIP"
In writing this letter Philip had not
intended to omit the mention of Elsie's
| name and standing in the Duncan house
hold, but since the thing was done he
did not correct it.
''It's just as WE'LL" he told himself.
"If l say anything at all, I'll have to tell
how sweet and lovable she seems to be,
and that might make the mother un-
easy. I'll wait till I've discovered her
| faults"
That was the beginning of a weak
ness. When he wrote again, it occurred
to him that his former silence might be
inisconstrued if he mentioned her now;
nay, more, before he had been week
at the farmhouse he began to see that
| if he spoke of Elsie in his letters it must
be in terms of praise. In his most self
reliant moods he had always been more
or less dependent upon sympathetic
atmosphere; and under the circum
stances which made him an inmate of
the Duncan home, this dependence be-
came morbid craving. And of pity and
sympathy Mrs. Duncan and Elsie gave
him unstintingly, out of the overfowing
blindness of good hearts.
For few days after his removal from
town, Philip spent much time on the
mountain. Then there came a week of
rainy weather, and by the time the
skies cleared he found it singularly easy
| TO stay in the house. During the indoor
week he had stumbled upon an occupa-
ton which was both pleasant and dan
gerous. This was the fact, though he
recognized only the pleasure and shut
his eyes to the danger. Elsie's lessons
had stopped at the end of her fathers
requirements, and she was ambitious
ard eager to go on. Thorndyke found
this out, and turned pedagogue with the
idea that he would repay kindness with
kindness. The lessons, begun during
the week of rainy weather, were con-
| tinued without interruption, until one
day, when Philip was more languid than
usual, Elsie's conscience awolle with a
start.
"Mr. Thorndyke, you're doing
wrong!" she said, looking up in self
re ,proachful dismay. You haven't
| oeen on the mountain for two weeks!"
It's much pleasanter here" Philip
replied.
but that isn't it. Didn't your doctor
sly you must stay out of doors?-and
'rre I've been keeping you in the house
when every hour of sunshine is pre-
cious."
Don't blame yourself; 1 stay in be-
cause like it better. It's WEAKNESS
TO the flesh to go tramping about
alone"
Elsie put her book away and took up
her sewing. I'm not going to encour-
age you to stay in, anyway" she said,
with pretty affectation of infleXibil-
ity; "and you ought to be ashamed to
call my mountain tiresome. / used to
almost envy your long walks"
"Why do you call it your mountain?"
because it's been my playmate ever
since | can remember. When was n
little girl used to sit on that big rock
behind the garden and read dear old
Sir Walter till imagined l could hear
the galloping of the dragons in the
lowrr valley, and the skirling of the
pipes up by the Pocket. And I've never
quite lost the hope that some day shall
meet a bonnie chieftain with his tail
of clansmen picking his way down
over the stones in the gulch."
"And you the daughter of Low
lander. I'm shocked! Why, the very
| first thing Vich Ian Vohr would do
would be to harry your fathers farm
But if you know the mountain so well,
what's to prevent your showing me how
to become interested in it? Why can't
you take tramp with me this after
noon?"
IL don't think ought to take the
time; motherll be wanting me to help
about the house."
She bent lower over the sewing, and
Philip saw faint tinge OF color creep
up to hide itself under the waves of
bright hair on her forehead.
Then won't go alone" he protest
ed, obstinately, and as Mrs. Duncan
came in he appealed to her. Mrs. Dun