The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1899-06-20
OF THE SOIL.
A Vivid Picture of Love and
Desertion.
BY Ethel knight.

1890 N~~~ $4,000
away all sound of outer life. He had
been raised in the country, but she was
a town lass, and the gas lamps and
hustle Of the seaport had got into her
blood. Perhaps she never loved him;
anyway she WAS not happy.
She was an industrious wench. The
tiny two roomed cottage he had built
was kept scrupulously neat, and she
helped him In the fields, when, with
her sleeves rolled back from her round,
brown arms and a cows breakfast, as
they call the wide straw farmers hats
in New Brunswick, on her dark hair,
he thought her proper woman enough,
with her 1.-THE, strong figure and gleam-
ing eye, but never told her so.
By and by she seldom talked and
grew restless on the days when they
put off in their rowboat to deliver eggs
and butter to the river steamers. He
did not notice how eagerly she scanned
the dress of the women passengers nor
how the captain kept an eye on all her
movements.
Fall came, tinting the landscape like
a splendid sunset, and the red and yell
low trees rustled in the windy sunshine
of October days. Then he sprained his
ankle and had to bide at his doorstep,
while she took the boat and rowed out
to the steamer for the trade. She
seemed to be gone longer than neces-
sary, he thought. Perhaps she was
driving hard bargain. She was
shrewd, and he was lucky to have her.
He wished she would liven up bit,
though, and not long so much for the
town and shops. What did farmers
wife need in town except a market for
her wares? But women were all odd.
He was right in his surmise. She
had raised the price of the butter and
eggs and brought home a few extra
cents. So on the following days, when
she delayed her return several minutes,
he was not impatient. But when the
next time for the steamer to pass came
and the minutes heightened into quar-
tiers, then hours, he grew disturbed and
hobbled 10 the beach. She pulled q
good, strong oar for town lass, but
her father was sailor, so 1t came nat
ural for her to manage boat. The
river was a treacherous flow of water,
but her boat was easy to pull, and she
had not far to go.
1t was strange he could not see her.
Perhaps she had gone around to the
sand beach. The rowan trees were
there, and she had fancy for decking
up the house with them. He thought
it somewhat cruel as well as profitless
to rob the birds of their winter food,
but she laughed at that.
He would best go home, he thought,
and put the potatoes on for dinner. 1t
was the lass work, but she had gone
to do his, so turn about was fair. He
was so honestl At the close of day still
there was no sign of her, and he tried
again to walk to the shore, but the in
jured ankle would not stand the
strain, and he was forced to sit and
wait.
Night came, but she did not return.
On his hands and knees he crawled to
the beach and called her name loudly,
with harsh breaking in his voice. The
cries echoed back mockingly. The
moon went down behind the hills and
left him cropping in the dusky starlight.
His hands were torn and his knees
bruised with the Jagged stones as he
dragged himself, but he took no heed,
calling out for the woman whom for
the first time he realized in a dumb,
heavy way he loved.
At dawn, peering out eagerly, he saw
his boat ashore some distance up the
island. His heart beats quickened, and
something warm and tender flashed
through him. How he had missed heri
Poor lass! Perhaps she, too. missed
her home folk. Well, the work was
nearly done, and frost would soon bind
the river, and then he would drive her
to the town and take her to the fair;
yes, and buy her a warm, red hood and
ribbons. He laughed out loud as he
dragged himself to the house, thinking
of her pleasure. She must have re-
turned some time back. The boat was
well up on the beach where hours ago
had been the tide. She was home and
doubtless wondering where he was.
She had staid out to give him bit Of
fright and had slipped in when he
had gone to search for her, dear lass!
He reached the cottage. The door
stood open, staring vacantly at him;
the fire was out, and the gusty wind
had scattered the light pine ash like
powder. She was not there. Doubt
grew in his heart as slowly he dragged
himself back to the shore-to the boat.
Was she dead? A bitterness gnawed
him. Hungrily he gazed at the waves
which had taken her from him. He
mumbled like an old man robbed, as
tears splashed his face.
AT last he reached the boat. In the
bottom was a piece of cedar chip tied
to her handkerchief. Leaping at it
fiercely, he grasped 1t with shaking
hand Then he rolled up his eyes, his
fingers fumbiing with the knot, his lips
drawn white. Scrawled on the chip
with pencil was a message: 1--WE
gone for good. You were kind, but I
could not abide you or the country.
I've gone with one as will take me all
over the world"
With his mouth working tensely he
started to drag himself back. His
brain was flying high up and down
again. Darling lights played before
his eyes. The wLirling ground leaped
away from him. Crawling on, he
reached the door, where, down on all
tours, like dog, he flung up his head
and looked around the rooms wildly.
Everything in them spoke with trum-
pet voice of her. He let his head fall
on the sill. Then a groan came heavily
from his lips, and he was calm.
The next week a new captain came
on the river steamer.
The birds flying across the river on
their way to the south saw a woman,
dressed gaudily and in vulgar fashion,
making her way from the landing to
the little house on Vance's island. At
the door a gaunt man watched her.
With dazed stumbling he walked
forth little way to meet her.
81 have come back after these years,
she said, looking up to the little home,
which, small and poor as it was, SEEM
ed to hold out hope of peace to her.
But he said nothing, only staring at
her with eyes in which burned faint
/ spark. Once he shivered at the croak-
inc nn%os In hor vOinn