The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1901-03-22
A WINTER STORY.

a WIN ER 81 OR1.
It is very quiet up here on the hill
road, for the larks are still. and the
thrushes in the woodlands below have
long ago finished their evening hymn.
Even the rocks in the parsonage ems
have ceased their noisy futterings, and
the village is wrapped in peaceful ST.
lence. No sound comes TO Godfrey Lam
bert as he plods along the lane save the
swish Of his own footballs in the thick
country mud and the tinkle Of a sheep
bell coming family over the hills from
some PARKWAY fold.
His face is set toward the church in a
hollow OF the hill at the head OF the val
ley, and the little red parsonage, which
nestlcS so cOZily beside IL There IS Q
flicker Of light in the parlor window, and
Godfrey's blue eyes are full Of content as
he watches 1t. Bessie viii be there. he
| thinks, practicing on the grand piano,
which fills the simple village folk with
awe and wonderment. So, perhaps, be-
fore he goes away TO dreary London he
viii be able to say TO her what it has
been in his heart to say for many a
long day, and he does not fear his an
swer.
I one more turn Of the winding lane and
Godfrey will be in sight of the parsonage
gates. Soon he stops short, and look
Of wonder creeps over his features in the
rudy light A pony trap is driving out
Of the parsonage gates, and turns briskly
down the road to the valley. and he
catches sight Of Bessie's red cloak as Il
whirIs away from him into the gloom.
His last night home, and she knows it,
She must know, too, that he viii come to
say good-by. yet she can go out just at
the time that he usually came TO the par
sonage
He turns on his heel with a bitter sigh
and retraces his steps along the YEARLY
winding lane. Hope has gone from him,
and life looks as dreary as the winter
( landscape TO his young eyes.
The freight fickers cheeriIy in the coy
/ parsonage parlor and adds a fresh charm
to the quaint, old-fashioned furniture.
Outside the wind bowls drearily and
/ brings the snow with a light, continuous
/ lutter against the window panes. 1t has
a mOuTnful sound, somehow, as If the
snow were covering up dead hopes and
withered aspirations, instead Of nursing
! the tender plans for fresher growth in the
/ spring.
/ Bessie Aytoun kneels before the fire
and spreads trembling hands to the
CHEEKY blaze. a year since Godfrey left
a whole long, dreary year! She had
/ thought, she had hoped, that he would
I have come to see her before he left home.
/ 1t would only have been polite to bid her
! good-by before he went TO London, yet
/ he had not been to the house. He could
not have come while she was out fetching
/ her father from the town, for she had
left q message in case he should call, and
( he had never been. Then she had hoped
he would write and explain if he had
been prevented. But no; all through the
twelve weary months there was never a
word. He must have forgotten her, and
forgotten the dear. happy days he had
spent at the coy old parsonage In the lee
of the hill All Welt 1t is the way of
men to forget.
t There is one man who never forgets,
however, man who is always true, who
win love her better than Godfrey ever
could There is a letter from him in her
pocket now, a letter which asks her to
reconsider the decision she came to over
year ago, before Godfrey left. She
must answer that letter tonight, yet she
hovers 'twixt yes and no.
With a trembling hand she pulls down
the blind and shuts out the desolate land
scape But q tear fills her eye as she
turns to her writing table
Yet when she has finished her letter
her face is calm and bright. She is think
ing Of the happiness it will bring-to an
other, certainly-perhaps to herself.
It is a dreary November day. Overhead
great masses of gray-red clouds block the
sun from sight, and under foot the black
London mud squelches and sputters IN
der the traffic
Godfrey Lambert walks modify along
the slippery pavement, angry with him
self and all the world. London is hate
full" he says to himself, and he nearly
adds November is hateful, but he be-
thinks himself in time. November In Lon
don and November in the country are two
different things.
The vision of a lost paradise leaves him
gloonier and more disseminated than
ever. Oh. for one breath of country air,
one sight of a face from the old home!
If only he could have a glimpse Of some
one who had seen Bessie, he would be
quite content.
He wanders into Bond street and goes
into a picture gallery to while away an
idle hour. For a time he strolls list
lessly from room to room feeling gloom
Ter and unhappier than ever, for he is in
little mood for the pictures this evening
Then al at once a sudden animation
comes into his face, and he strides hastily
down a long room.
At the far end a strangely familiar fig
ure reclnes on one of the broad lounges. (
Surely. surely it is Bessie herself Al
last. after two years, he viii see her
again. he will hold her hand in his. and
look down into the clear depths Of her
eyes.
He has almost reached her side when
suddenly she stretches out her left hand
to point to a picture that has attracted
her fancy, while the man beside her
bends down to listen TO her remark with /
a strangely appropriative air Godfrey
stands stiu and holds his breath, for q
broad sold band shines upon the slim
third finger of the outstretched hand
Bessie married His heart seems to stop /
beating and his face TO grow suddenly /
gray and old.
Yet. after all, It is only what he might /
have expected. he pulls himself together /
and walks as unconcerneOIy as may be /
past her bench toward the door at the /
FAR end Of the room. He must have ons /.
glance at her before he goes out Of his !
life forever.
So. at the doorway he turns to look. I
The subdued light from the roof falls I
softly on her face and brings every fea- /
ture into sharp prominence. She has seen 4
him and her eyes are fixed on his. For (
one moment he pauses, then he stumbles /
away. and goes out once more into the /
desolate fog. with his mouth hard set +
and stony look ia his eyes
In that one look he has learned the
truth. and knows that IL he had spoken /
to Bessie on that far-away day it would I
not have been in vain
Newspaper Waits.
In Earnest.-He (deiightedly)-"H /
You really and truly never been engaged /
f,af.faqH SIN evar-ft11t Is not ia tha {