Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1903-05-02
ON THE HILLTOPS.
by JuIrE.rrE n. a'cEARLEY.

tuAboiETkQAA NNA&NAs NA0 2 A~Ns 49,
scAoolhouse that looked altogether too mod
ern for its surroundings; II seemed 2 waste
of time to the uninltiated 10 climb the hills,
and look down at this town, when one
could stay so much more comfortably IN
ones house and lock up on the hills,
But when one looked over the town-ah.
then there was a feeling Of freedom from
the ugly everyday things Of life, for tae
hills were tail and green and mysterious
huge heaps thrown up BY some mighty cone
vulsion Of nature long ago. Here and there
groups OF stately cedars, spiked with am
Der tips or laden with BLUSH green berries,
delighted the weary eyes, and far away be-
yond the low, muddy bar, where the cot
ton stalks stood, brown and ugly and lop-
sided, the river lay, q broad CLEAN 81 pun
pie water now sparkling In golden sunlight
sometimes only marked BY a wall OF sf
very white mist,
Charline loved to look at the river and the
hills. In all her young life they had taught
her more than she had learned m the riekety
old church which perched high and forlorn'
ly on the side Of a caving bank, with yellow
splotehed walls, on which generations OF
bad boys had scrubbed, and where q minis
ter, the man she had promised to marry,
came once a month to rant about the flames
of he'll which were always ready to swallow
up the ungodly who danced and laughed
and made merry.
Charline shuddered as she thought OF him,
but he was only a man, and what were men
after all? Men had built the little town
yonder, and God had made the hills-the
beautiful, useless hills, and the beautiful,
useless daisies, which grew in patches on
the hillsides and smiled up at one like baby
ewes. Yet, the preacher had said only last
Sunday that useless beauty and outward
adornment were marks of the beast, and
babe the women cast off their rings and
trinkets. No rings shone on Charliness
brown hands. One would be there soon
enough, she thought, which would mean al
most servitude to her, and yet when she
looked at it, il would also whisper to her OF
a sacrifice for love which would help her to
bear it, for she could never hope then to sail
away on the broad river to the world Of
which she had dreamed. She could never
again close her eyes beneath the cedars in
the rapture of loves embrace.
1t had been autumn then, and the valley
between the hills had lain like a yellow
ribbon and the grass was soft and dead,
and the hills had risen north and south,
mantled with p~urpling grapes and
wreathed with the soft mist of Indian
summer. Only at sunset the mist had
cleared away. and there had been roses in
the sky, and roses on her soft brown
cheeks, as he had come lightly over the dead
grass, and Weakened her soul with his kiss.
She knew now it was only an idle dream,
and that he had kissed her-not because he
loved her, but because he held her lightly,
and that the pastime of an idle hour had
separated him from the woman he loved
the rich. fair, kindly girl who had always
seemed like some princess to Charline. But
she would show them how cruel the gossips
had been; it should not cost him dear, even
though now he sought her side no more.
All her womanhood in pride cried out to
her to show him that she did not care.
All the woman's tenderness pleaded to
protect him from the consequences Of his
own folly. As she sat in the shade of the
cedars, and looked down at the town she
saw a woman, tall and slender, going along
the path his feet had once touched so light
~ when he had seen her on the hillside.
She drew her breath a little hard as she
caught the sheen of the pale blonde hair.
The blonde woman started as she saw her
sitting there, and would have passed with
a d~ignified bow, but the girl called her name,
and with innate courtesy she paused.
"a beautiful evening, is it not?" she said.
In her soft, clear voice. 81 came up to see
the sunset on the river, and you seem to be
enjoying it, too. Do you come often?"
The next moment, as she remembered
what the village gossips had said Of her
lover and Charline trysting here, she could
have bitten her tongue for the question.
Eyes" she said, with a little catch in her
voice, Il have come often during the past
few weeks. / am to be married soon-to
the minister-perhaps you may not have
heard-and after that / shall not be here
often, for / shall be out behind the hills,
where ! cannot even hear a boat whistle.
/ think | win miss that"
The two women-the small brown girl
in the grass, with the rich, ~velvety eyes, and
the blonde woman who had grace rather
than b~eauty-looked in each others faces,
and she of the blonde hair drew a deep
breath.
Then she spoke with a cold, slow smile:
"But you win have your husband" she
said; 1T will be a great thing for you to
be married to a clergyman. Young girls al
WAYS make heroes of them, | believe"
Yes" said Charline, and a bright red
spot burned on her cheeks and crimsoned
the lips that spoke so bravely and falsely,
arrays dohhhtu nun. anu j sHdil read MS
sermons, and hear him preach, and | am
s%ure-oh, quite sure-that / shall be happy.
No one else ever cared for me or kissed
me or told me he loved me, and shouldha
to be an old maid. My aunt says every girl
should have a husband-that even the I'M
pleasant ones are useful to keep off unde-
sirable men from a poor girl"
The blondes face softened as it had not
done before for a long while; her ewes
seemed to grow deeper, and she laughed a
low, merry laugh. "Your aunt has queer
ideas of matrimony," she said, 'sbut / am
not sure she is altogether wrong" Then
she looked away to where the sun was set
ting in a saffron cloud. The river was
golden, and on the side Of the Hill the blue
daisies bloomed on the graves Of the forgot
ten dead, who, perhaps, on some bygone
day had had their chance and missed il. |
too. Well, she would not miss hers again |
and then, moved by a sudden impulse. she
stopped and kissed the brown cheek Of the
girl, and Charline knew that she kissed her |
because Of the dream that was given back
to her again.