The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1900-02-15
His Foreotton Love.

| of the pop1lar New-a-Days Magazine, has
! been kept at home by a wretched cold.
| Today be felt almost himself again, but
a whistling. driving snowstorn, q fierce
/ blizzard, such as sometimes strikes New
| York in the latter part of February, was
raging, and forbade him to venture out.
| Tired with the unwented inaction Of the
past two days, the editors thoughts turn
| ed TO his work, and he began o con-
slider the makeup Of the number now il
preparation.
I'm not quite satisfied with the May
| number. ne said. Its a little heavy for
May; there ought 70 be more OF the light
and life and poisoning OF May in it.
| Now, those sPastelles-we haven't any
really good spring story in them"
The 'Pastelles," a new department OF
| the magazine, were short sketches, with
hardy plot enough to be called stories;
| sometimes a light character study-a del
! icate word painting of some aspect of ma
! ture
| Mr.. Ashcroft took an art calendar from
! the wall Of his side and turned the leaves
until he came to the May page. The
picture was n excellent copy Of water
! color painting. 1t represented an or
! chard of apple trees, covered with their
pink and white bloom. A young girl
stood under one of the trees, leaning
gracefully against the g7larled trunk, her
hands clasped loosely before her. The
whole was delicately tinted, and seemed
almost to carry with it faint fra
GRANGE OF the blossona-laden May.
His thoughts went back to the village
of Raynor where he had spent a 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 10
10 -
| time with an old college classmate.
One of the village girls, shy little Faith
Thorne, had from TIE 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 quantness, a ehfld-like simple
ity and directness, made her seem IN
like 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. o sweet shyness made the
blue eyes droop before his.
She would not let him bind himself
b any promise, they were both too
Young. she rad said. He must go away
now. finish his college course with honor,
and then. when he had taken the place
waiting for him in his fathers office, he
might again come to Raynor, and he
would find her waiting for him
So, on this afternoon, with the Feoru-
ary storm raging without, Ford Ash
croft's thoughts went back and fingered
on the springtime idyl Of those long ago
years. Could it be twelve years-Faith
would be % 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. child-like face-a little older, per-
haps, a little sadder, but still with those
innocent. wistful eyes. And he-wen-he
| was "a; he had lived in the midst Of the
rush and whirl of city life.
1T would make a good 'Pastelle, he
finally remarked, and turned to his desk
took up his pen and began to write. Slow
" at first then, as the past seemed to
come nearer, his pen moved more rapidly
over the page He told of the college
youth in the little village, Of the shy
maiden who won his boyish heart; he de-
scribed the old orchard with its glory of
apple blooms; he seemed almost to inhale
their delicate fragrance as he wrote. The
whole pretty idyl was told in simple
words, but 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 or
chard boughs Then the story Of the
Young lover who went away, who grew
older and sterner, who struggled and won
and forgot.
After a while he took the pen and wrote
again.
A month later the editor was startled
to find among his personal mail at the
office an envelope bearing the postmark
of Raynor
'rIy Dear F'ord-I have read the story
under Orchard Boughs.' in the Now-a-
DAVIS, and though you fhave changed the
names Of the people and of the place, I
knew at once that it was our 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 writing for his train, and the young
girl comes in with her armful Of apple
blossoms, whose fragrance, stealing in
to mis- dreams, makes him fancy himself
once more in the old orchard; when he
wakes to find it but a dream. and knows
at last the one thing his life has lacked
In the midst of its seeming prosperity;
when. seized with q sudden heaTt-sick
longing for a sight Of the Faith he had
known. he ruskes to the ticket office and
asks for a ticket to the little village: an,
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?
Il cannot say more than this-if you
care to come to Raynor you will find me
waiting in the old orchard, and you VIII
find me still FAITH THORNE.'
Ford Ashcroft crushed the letter in his
hand with muttered imprecation. Cow
ard.' ne said to himself fiercely.
Couldn't I have found enough literary
material without dragging poor little
Faith into print? 1t was a dsstardly
I thing to do, but who would have thought
she would have seen the thing. And
now
He hastily put the letter in his pocket
a. the sound of voices was heard IN the
hall The next moment the door was
/ thrown omen and two children rushed in,
sardluhrdiu ks1rdl shrdl cmfwy emfwyp p
! the older one exclaiminE breathessly
Papa, papa. the carriage has come, and
mamma is ready, and YOU said you'd go
| TO wide wiz US today. cause it's ny
birthday. and I'm years Old"
Ashcroft picked Up the child and gave
/ her half . dozen kisses 81 honor ~ the
( day Then be went for q drive with his
| wife and little ones. the pathetic letter
/ from Faith Thorue still in his pocket
I Ida Remission.
--<N-
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