Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1900-11-23

new arrangement to Madge. They
would retrace their way, and take the
returning steamer on the morrow; and
after all return home to America a
little earlier. "Ater all, there is moth
ing much better than the home noun
tains and seashore for the summer
weather, is there? And then,
Madge-"
But there had been no land then"
for poor little Madge. Ter story was
finished, she told herself
And, indeed, 1t had been so very lit
tie of story! Just a mere hint of a
sketch that might have been made.
If she could have told her father!
But what could she have told her
father? That she wanted to climb and
climb along the rough, wild noun.
tain ways, in the wake of a man who
had flung spare rug across her knees
in a bleak midnight sea wind; who
had caught her once, staggering on a
slippery, rolling deck; who had
pluclled n bit of mountain moss for her
on the edge of an abyss; who had stood
apart on midsummer eve, on the edge
of a village dance, with 4 cigar in his
mouth, and his eyes
Madge put 4 hasty hand across her
eyes, shutting out the picture. What
had she to do with pictures like thati
Vain dreams! Her part was not with
dreaming, but with work-a-day real
titles.
Well, well, she would go home. AL.
though her home was a back build.
ing room, and no one waiting for her
in it.
She rose the more sloyly for the
thought. She was turning toward the
door of the main entrance, when sud.
denly-was it with that strange sense
Of being watched, that sometimes
moves one?-she turned around. And
in his eyes-in his eyes the same look
she remembered.
While she stood motionless, he came
up, and before she had recovered
breath, was shaking hands with her,
quite as though they had met last
week, instead of last year.
But she saw him glance quickly at
her mourning veil, which she gathered
about her, her nervous hand strok-
ing its folds.
81 came to see the pictures" she
said, with an effort at ease. II did
not expect to see a"
"An old friend" he said promptly,
filing up her slightest hesitation. But
1 did"
"You"
81 came to see you," he said, nod
ding at the picture. II tried in vain
to find you. So l was obliged to call
you up there to my own eye and yours
No stranger would recognize you. l
took care of that. But l had at least,
a forlorn hope that it might prove a
clue. Every one sooner or later comes
to Washington, you know. And so
it has"
"a forlorn hope, indeed" she said,
with the ghost of little laugh, sad
der than tears. "It is a pity it did
not fail you. We We're all so merry
and happy that midsummer night"
when dreamed dream" he said,
''that is just beginning to come true"
He drew her hand, with its little,
worn, black glove, gently in his arm.
you won't vanish so suddenly
again like the vision of dream?" he
said. "At least, you will let me take
you homer
She did not answer at once, and he
said. quickly:
pardon me; but it is q year and
three weeks for me since 1 have
known you. l forget that it is not
the same thing to you You must not
be angry with me if I beg that you
will sometimes let me see you at your
home"
She stroked again the folds of her
veil, with hand that trembled.
81 have no home. II have moth
ing"
1t was his voice that trembled.
Nothing but an old friend" he said;
ian old friend of a year and three
weeks"
That was his plea, with a slight al
teration n little later.
"We have been friends for a year
and four weeks" he said. "How much
longer do we need to wait to know
each other better? l knew you,
Madge, the first time that l looked
into your honest eyes. Why should
we wait? Let me take all my life
to make you know, better and bet
ter, how l love and cherish and"
"Obey?" archly.
"Obey my wife, when she bids me
have my way-as she will now,
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