The Appeal. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. ;) 1889-19??, 1899-01-28
BORROWED PLUNES

evening tnat she spoke He had been
standing beside her, looking at the sea.
and suddenly broke the calm Of the great
silence to quote Mathew Arnold's lines:
The sea of faith
Was thus once at the full. and round earth's
: Lay like the folds Of "a bright girdle furled;
II wish you wouldn't" she interrupted,
almost peevishly.
. His blue eyes turned on her with the
] appealing look child's wear when one
whom it trusts speaks with sudden harsh
| ness. d. r.. a#
Don't look at me like that she said.
her, patience and her pretty manners Civ
ing way together under the strain OF
that absurd appeal. TITS only that
same snto the country to rest, and ~;
II see, you don't like me to talk to
you. l am very sorry. I never meant to.
bore you. It's very good Of you to tell
me straight OUT He raised his cap and
turned to leave her. '.
"Oh, DON'T" she said again. IT am so
| sorry I didn't mean to be rude-h.lt,
don't you feel it too? One wants to rest
from literature and all that sort of thing.
| am sure you feel it too, only you think
| 4 person from Girton wants this sort O:
entertaining. She doesn't, I assure you;
she just wants to look about and see
things happen, see how the flowers grow,
|
come into the fold, and wonder how the
| chickens know when it's time to be fed"
| He stood looking at her, still wistfully
You're not angry with me, are you?"
| he said.
Angry? No. of course not; and you
mustn't be angry with me. 1t was very
Oad-tempered of me, because know you
| were only doing it to please me. But you
won't any more, will you? It's not nec-
| assary."
What am 7 to talk about, then?'
IL have an idea,'' she said, flashing
! orllllant smile at him. LET us never.
| talk at all, unless we have something we
| very much want to say"
| he smiled back at her, but his smile
was a little sad Yet he accepted the new
OASIS or conversations In the first dav
or Two their talk lost in bulk, but in
quaiity II gained. Then Miss Roscommon
| INVOKE 10 the fact that he was talking as
much as ever. and she more than ever
pelore. And now she began to perceive
snHpses or the real man, of the passion
ate love of all things beautiful that had
,dlil beneath his veneer of cheap culture.
W. NJ Ia!hed no more of literature and art.
Nor old ne talk of himself But he smoke
OF MS rather, and she respected him ITa
| si bohc ol MS mother and the little dead
| SISTER ana something like tenderness he
s ah 20 solten the respect. She saw how
S sie pastoral peace of the old place held
. 49, SOU ana she wondered how he could
svet nave torn himself from it tn ,.spo.
h,t me mantles." TO so to college, YES.
ouC INTO the mantles But this va,
oiie or the things of which he never snoke
,,.o titne 81, holiday vas nearly over he.
I'VE S S1, learned that he wrote verses
to ha. ana yet happy, he read them
70 her one golden afternoon IN ~
G G, And they were good vers AZ
dney accumulated her curiosity. as to his
noice OF career. The two were now.
her wonder N''e GU ~ speak
Why she said. you must love. tho
| country in your heart or Won could na,,as
write like this; you make dear iit4,a ae nia
lures IN your verses. I can't think WHY
you ever chose to go into business inston1
OF living here' eS'a
-, re Hushed holly. and began to pull the
ors grass from the roots of the apple tree.
;doa uiuh Know he said. II had no
tnat In London should have some chance
OF meeting intellectual people,"
| sharply.
mats beautiful phrase she said.
linen I'll change it, he said. and The
vclce was voice she had not heard be-
cause thought had no chance here of
meeting you. Oh, of course, T don't mean
MISS MABEL Roscc mmOn; but Won don't
| suppose nave never dreamed of a wom-
aL! IKE you. woman who knows all tho
thlhgs want to know, and never had the
ciahce TO Know; woman I could wor-
snip as worship you. my scornful ladv?'
Ills voice was hard defiant and her
eyes were hard and sccrnful.. She was
very angry.
And so you thought you would meet
me. or my like. among the young ladies
WEo serve in the mantles.' Thank YOU"
| 'You aren't a snob, really" he said
quietly. 'Pleasa don't talk like one lust
to annoy me-
It was hard hitting-t,le gloves off on
both sides. Each drew a long breath.
The level shadows of the tree-trunks Law
th1 lc and black across the orchard grass.
| You despise me- he said; don't try
to make me despise you. Not that you
could. know you better than you know
| yourself. How could know what chance
there was fer me in London? have
found you, and found you here IF I
had gone to ,ollege-if my father had not
sown wheat that year, should be your
social equal and a gentleman"
you have a good deal of faith in Ok
ford,' she said, with cold malice.
you'll only be sorry afterward," he
said. ''Why hit man when he is down?
! love you from your head to your feet.
I love your voice, and your dear brown
| eyes. and that smile of yours. I.love you,
| body, soul, and spirit; but I'm nat wor-
| thy to tell you so. Forgive ME and forget
| it. It was for you I wanted to go to col
| lege, for you went to London I was a
fool, but it was for you, because I have
dreamed Of you all my life. Now I've
told you. and it's all over"
What are you going to do? Shall you
| go back to London?' Her voice was low
and not quite steady.
mo, I've had enough of that. I shall
stay here and help my father to work the
| farm. Yes, I shall have books-I know
| you despise them, but that's because you
have got all you want out Of them. I
| shall help to farm the land, and look
after my me Their, and read, and try to
| forget YOU
He had risen and stood looking down
| at her. She rose. too. They stood look
| Ing at each other. He was no longer a
| boy In her eyes-he was man. and her
master. She perceived now how the af-
| fectations that had annoyed her were not
part Of the man, but merely the trappings
he had put on-foolishly, vainly put on
to gain her approval She thought of his
life, alone at the farm; she thought of
her life, alone in the crowded high school.
She raised her eyes to his, and her eyes
1 were full of tears.
Don't be unhappy about me- he said,
eagerly. II ought never to have told you.
/ and 1t is not so hard, really, as If I had
] never known you, for then could never
have settled down here, where really
/ belong, and have done my plain duty.
should have wandered all over the world
looking for you. Now shall have the
i memory of you to keep me company, and
I can do what ought to have done long
ago, and what I should have wanted to
Tdo but for wanting to find you. You are
not to be unhappy am not; am glad -
| Her tears brimmed over and fell. This,
! then, was the nature he had thought too
i poor to show her; this the soul he had
If,rnxy nm y,