The White Pine news. [volume] (Treasure City, Nev.) 1868-1906, 1898-07-23
A DESERTER'S
RETURN.


" lie stood in the doorway of the
- shack and watched him trailing
~ down the road after the horses in
a cloud OF dust. When he had passed
over the rise and the jingle of harness
came no longer 10 her ears she sat down
upon the doorstep with a troubled sigh.
The shanty. almost the one brown spot
In the tumbling wilderness Of grass,
was small aud dingy and redolent of
the tar paper that covered It's sides.
From its one tile chimney there faltcred
a thin column of smoke that struggled
weakly for n moment and then sank
to the ground. bringing In It's midst n
shower of SCOT that touched here and
there with grlmy fingers. Over the
white-curtained window ran a vine,
twining about the decaying sash in a
luxurlant profuslon of foliage, heavy
with budded promise. One spr.g. bold
er than the rest. stretched its length of
tender green across to the door, and
hung far down. swinging In the wind
and holding out It's curling tendrlls.
like tiny fingers, In wistful greeting TO
the woman below. A row of lusty sun
flowers ran from the house TO the
straw-thatched barn, holding up their
rotund faces for Il kiss from the sun
aud forgetting entirely the timid deyo-
ton of the morning glories that wound
about their sturdy limbs and climbed
high up TO offer TO their unbending mas
ters a taste of morning dew from their
horns of scarlet and gold. A hen, fussy
with the responsibilities of an over
lc"ge family. basked In the warm earth
and elucked unheeded warnings to her
downy brood.
The woman took or her hat and laid
Il beside her. The breeze. fresh with
the smell of rlpening wheat. blew onto
her cheek and fingered TO OAK a stray
rlnglet into her eyes. \ gray squirrel
that had run from his hurrow to snatch
a few crumbs paused 10 note her dis
consulate attitude and perked his head
In inquisltiye wonder. A little way
fro mthc house the railroad crossed the
farm In q long stretch of yellow clay.
Sometime Annette had sat on the ties
and looked longingly into the gllmmer-
Ing distance from whence she had come
and wished that she could go back, and
then grew afraid OF herself that she
could make such a wish. She remem-
bered now, how, from the flying train
she had looked out upon a cluster of
buildings huddled close together for
warmth, it seemed. and casually Won
uered how a person could live In such
n place, and afterwards, when she
found II was to be her home and Jacks,
she felt with a sudden sinking Of the
heart how dreary her life must become.
Even then, strong with the fervor of
love, she had somehow realized the
hopelessness of the undertaking, and
now that the roseate flush of the hon
eymoon had faded she sat up with n
dull pain In her head and Il wave of
inconsistencies rolled over her.
Annette was, In truth, a child of civ
Illzation. She loved the noise and bus
tie of the city, the rattle of trucks, the
rumble OF cabs. the changing of cable
ear gongs, the purr Of the trolley; she
loved the cries of the street, the hurry
tlves, the sounding of whistles; and this
morning she thlrsted with heart-slck
e~agerness for the sight of home, the
crowded thoroughfares, the brightly
green patches of lawn, the smooth
stretches of boulevard, the notified
shadow of the sun shining through the
leaves, the glare of night Illumination
on shiny wet payements. She longed
70" the shop windows, the tall buildings
and the smoke-canopled sky Of her ma
tive city; for a sight of the familiar
| office, the clicking typewriters, the pat
ter Of the ticker as II thrust forth its
long tongue of dotted paper; her 'cush-
Toned seat by the window, from which
she could look III on sanded roofs and
black-throated chlmneys, and where
voices of the pigmy street multitudes
came up to her IN a murmuring babel
of tongues. All this she had left for
the love of him-and she did love her
husband.
But her world, how empty 1t was,
how lonesome and still, how utterly for
saken she had grown to feel in spite of
him. When she had first come the nov
city had charmed her. The air was de-
llclously soft and the grass In its first
%grcenness above the sod. Patches of
snow still fingered on the shadow side
Of the swales; in the sunny places the
J croctses sprang up aud bloomed. But
now the grass was tall and the wind
swept through It In grcwsome whispers
that made her think of a country grave
yard. And every tall bearded stalk had
answered with a nod of It's head and
seemed to look askanee at her with
knowing smile; the grasshoppers perch
ed In the shade and tzig-tzlgged In mon
otonous cadence, the gophers chartered
impudentiy and the ployers whlstled
from above, and with one accord they
seemed derlslvely TO say. "Homeslck,
homcslck-a bride and homesick." And
r, she was-mlseraly, unbearably so,
and every one appeared to know 1t save
lack