The pioneer press. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 1893-190?, 1902-04-10


his voice. why is 1t not In the val
ley. where II belongs. or on the hill,
side? Why is II perched on the sum.
NIT In such an unusual and inacces-
sible place."
The woman laughed, merrily. watch
ing the sunlight glistening on the
bright tin pail the man was carrying
Il do not know" she replied. Eek
cept that 1t chose to be there. Ii is
another CT natures freaks. suppose. .
She paused c moment, plucking a
bunch OF wild grape blossoms from a
vine that hung over the path. Then
she waved the bunch of blossoms to-
wards the shimmering sheen of green
and yellow stretched, like vast ORR
entail rug, beneath them.
The path, at last, swerved suddenly
to the right and. circling a large bowl
der which poised airily on the very
edge OF the declivity ended at the
brink OF a tranquil pool.
Amid the tangled grass upon the
bank the woman sank to rest. Her
straw hat dropped from her head as
she reclined upon the mold, and the
sunlight. dripping through the leaves,
fell asleep amid the copper OF her hair.
The man sat down the pail and,
leaning against tree, stood in silence.
watching the glory OF her tresses.
And so have come" he said, a.
nally. II have come these hundreds
of miles. only to find you changed
so changed"
Am | changed" she asked. sudden
ly raising her eyes from the cool
shadows OF the spring.
so changed" he repeated; $50
changed"
Involuntarily, almost unconsciously,
he reached out his hands to her In a
gesture OF appeal as though yearning
TO clasp her In his arms and draw her
back into the olden sweetness; into
the gentle, natural simplicity that had
been hers in the days when he first
had loved her.
How am / different" she asked
after moment OF silence.
Il hardly know" he replied. slowly.
only. only there used to be a
warmth in your eyes that has van
ished. Hazel. Do you remember when
you used to stand at your fathers |
gate and watch me come up the lane |
in the long summer evenings. back |
there In the Iowa hills? Your face |
flu All m of 10 oh L.
your eyes-your eyes glowed like the
stars"
The woman laughed.
! Why" she replied, mot an hour
ago. Walter. you said that my eyes |
sparkled like the stars. Surely they
could not have changed much, then"
YES" the man said. your eyes do
sparkle like the stars, but ii is like
the sperkle Of the stars in winter, Ha-
zel-bright. but cold and cherries.
ihen-back there In Iowa-they
giowed. rather than sparkled -
glowed like the stars In an August
night-softly. subduedly, warmly
There is vast difference In the glim-
mer of the stars In summer and In
winter, did you ever notice II? In
summer they are less distinct, but they
seem so kind, so tender so near. We
feel like we could almost reach out our
hands and touch them. But in winter
they are more brilliant, more like gil
gantic diamonds. They are beautiful,
but they are not-not-sympatheti
that is the word. And, as we gaze at
them we are impressed with a sense
OF vastness, with realization OF the
great distances that stretch between
them and us. And. somehow, they
impart to us feeling of loneliness"
"And do my eyes affect you that
way. now?" she asked.
Almost" he replied. "They are
bright. but they have lost something
not lustre, nor yet beauty, but-feel-
ing, guess that is what it is"
Then" said the woman, haughtily.
perhaps l had best turn my gaze in