El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1900-08-01
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SB'UNDER ORCHARD DOUGHS
BY IDA kENNISTON.

Ford Ashcroft, editor of The Nowaday:
| Magazine was not satisfied with the
make up of the May number. He tool
an art calendar from the wall by his side
| and turned the leaves until he came tC
| the May page. The picture was an eN
| cellent copy of a water color painting
| 1t represented an orchard of apple trees
| covered with their pink and white bloom
| A young girl stood under one of the trees
leaning gracefully against the gnarled
trunk, her hands clasped loosely before
| her. The whole was delicately tinted
and seemed almost to carry with it a
| faint fragrance of the blossom laden
May.
| His thoughts went back to the village
| of Raynor, where he had spent n few
| months years ago. Some college prank
| had brought him into trouble with the
| faculty, and he had been suspended for
| four months. His father had sent him
to the little Connecticut village to spend
| the time with an old college classmate.
One of the village girls, shy little Faith
| Thorne had from the first held captive
| his boyish fancy. AS he came to know
her better her influence increased, and he
| said to himself that he had found the
| pearl among women. Brought up in a
| Quaker household, for Faith was an or
phan and lived with her grandparents, a
| certain quaintnaSS, Il childlike simplicity
and directness. made her seem unlike the
| other merry. chattering country lasses.
Little by little he and Faith came to be
more and more to each other. The wild
| rose flush in her cheeks deepened when
| he was by; n sweet shyness made the
| blue eyes droop before his.
She would not let him bind himself by
| any promise: they were both too young.
| she had said. He must go away now,
| finish his college course with honor, and
then, when he had taken the place wait
| ing for him in his fathers office, he might
come again to Raynor. and he would find
her waiting for him.
So, on this afternoon, with the Febru-
airy storm raging without, Ford Ash
croft's thoughts went back and fingered
on the springtime idyl of those long
ago years. Could it be II years-Faith
would be 30 now, but somehow he could
not think of her as looking much older
than the young girl he had left in the
orchard. Surely she had not lost that
pure, childlike face-a little older, per-
haps, Il little sadder, but still with those
innocent. wistful eyes And newell
he was "a: he had lived in the midst Of
the rush and whirl of city life.
1T would make good story" he final
ly remarked, and turned to his desk, took
up his pen and began to write, slowly
at first; then, as the past seemed to come
nearer, his pen moved more rapidly over
in the little village. of the shy maiden
who won his boyish heart; he described
the old orchard, with its glory of apple
blooms; he seemed almost to inhale their
delicate fragrance as he wrote. The
while pretty dyl was told in simple
words, buC with such exquisite art that
one who read might almost see the
pretty picture of the girlish Faith, with
her pure, trustful eyes, and the boyish
lover who bent to kiss her cheek beneath
the orchard boughs. Then the story of
the young lover who went away, who
grew older and sterner. who struggled
and won-and forgot.
After awhile he took the pen and wrote
again.
to find among his personal mail at the
Office an envelope bearing the postmark
of Raynor:
My Dear Ford-I have read the story, 'Under
Orchard Boughs,'' in The Nowadays, and though
you have changed the names of the people and of
the place, knew at that it story.
But dear, YOU should not have ended it as you
did. When Fred Reynolds falls asleep in the little
railway station, where he is waiting for his
train and the Young girl comes in with her
armful of apple blossoms, whose fragrance, steal
ing into his dreams, makes him fancy himself
in the old orchard; when he wakes to
find it but dream and knows at last the one
thing his life has lacked in the midst of its seem
ing prosperity; when, seized with a sudden heart
sick longing for sight of the Faith he had
known, he rushes to the ticket Office and asks for
ticket to the little village, ah. Ford, why did
you not let him carry out his first impulse? Why
did you make him hesitate and turn his back on
the hope he might have made his own?
1 cannot say than this. If you care to
to Raynor, you will find me waiting in the
old orchard, and you will find me still
FAITH THoRNE.
Ford Ashcroft crushed the letter in his
hand with muttered imprecation.
"Coward!' he said to himself fiercely.
Couldn't | have found enough literary
material without dragging poor little
Faith into print? 1t was Il dastardly
thing to do, but who would have thought
she would have seen the thing? And
now
He hastily put the letter in his pocket
as the sound of voices was heard in the
hall. The next moment the door was
thrown open and two children rushed in,
the older one eXclaiming breathlessly.
Papa. papa, the carriage has come, and
mamma is ready, and you said you'd go
to wide wiz us today, cause it's my
and I'm years old
Ashcroft picked up the child and gave
her half dozen kisses in honor of the
day. Then he went for Il drive with his
wife and little ones, the pathetic letter
from Faith Thorne still in his pocket
Chicago Herald.