Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1902-01-18
Angeles Rude
Awakening
Why She Married One Man
and Loved Another.
. BY KATHRYN JARBOE.
By KATHRYN JARBOE.

There were two Of them in he1
life one, her lover, was man Of
her own class, the son Of a neigh
boring farmer; the other was an
Englishman gentleman.
One toiled from the pale gray
| and pink dawn to the dull, leaden
darkness trying to extract a living
for himself and his bride from the
barren hillside farm; the other en-
| ployed some twenty .laborers. to
beautify the grounds about his sum
mer home on the crest Of the ridge.
One had given his heart and soul
into Angelo Delamater's hands and
accounted himself blessed when she
had placidly accepted his gifts; the
other had noted her carelessly,
thought her a pretty girl, told her
SO more or less directly and, quite
unwittingly be it said, awakened the
love that had never been aroused by
Jim Thorne's appeals.
And the wedding day was creep
ing nearer and nearer, while the
glamour of the rich Englishman
was enshrouding her in its flmy
mist.
Only eight or ten times had she
seen him. The first time, perhaps
the second, even the third, had
made little impress on her mind.
He was as far removed from her as
the hilltop pines we're distant from
the scrub oaks and chaparral of her
future home. r. "
Then came the day when he drew
rein at her fathers gate to speak to
the old man about boundary fence,
Angelo, pummeling her bread by
the open window, listened to the
. well modulated voice. So different
from Jim's-that was the first
thought that occurred to. her. In
answer to her fathers call she took
them the outline map of the farm,
and Seymour sprang from his horse,
coming half way up the walk to take
the papers from her, for the sun was
hot, so he said. .'~'-"@--H g
She wore no hat, and the blister.
ing rays would burn her face, her
hair-what was it that he did say
or suggest? His own head was I'M
overed while he spoke to her, and
lie looked like some glorious blond
yiant-like the golden haired knight
Of her childhood dreams.
Who had ever thought of saving
her step, of sheltering her from
the ordinary sunlight Of her hills?
Not her father, not her brothers,
not Jim. -.
The next time she met him she
was carrying some brilliant scarlet
ounce blossoms, and what wonder
was it that he compared the livid
blossoms with the living scarlet lips
above them?
Then it was, too, that he told her
that the night before as he lay in
his hammock watching the moon
slip out from the entangling arms
Of the pines he had remembered
that her hair matched the marvel
Gus blue black Of the night sky.
He had thought of her up there in
his wonderful home! He had re-
membered her = remembered how
she looked! Could her imagination
do otherwise than run mad riot?
The next meetings, quite acct
dental on his part, carefully plan
ned on hers, were in the redwood
circle through which the trail ran,
from which it dropped down the
sandy slope to Ben Lomond. There
were few words spoken, but these
the girls heart translated into its
own language and in so doing en-
them III wondrous beauty.
Her mind, hearing only through her
heart, was quite unconscious Of the
matter Of fact, commonplace phras-
es. It heard only love. /
When the wedding morning dawn
ed, the Delamater farm was enyel- |
oped in a sea fog. The sun stretch |
ed himself lazily over the hills, and
slowly the mist withdrew into the
canyons, valiantly held a hillside
for a moment and then scurried
back in undignifed retreat, But
vanquished it would not be, and all |
around its masses stood in close ar
ray. The farm ITSELF. elcircled
with roses that gave place IN ever |
rings to blossom laden or
2hards, seemed an oasis in the gnarl-
ed and rugged hillsides on which it |
Lay.
Angelo, adult, only partially com |
pretended misery in her heart, was /
dressing for the ceremony. She. had /
asked to be left quite alone in her
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