The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1903-10-16
The Woman Who Dreamed

L ne w oman VINO dreamed
She stood under the boughs of an appl,
tree in the orchard-and there never was
| perhaps never could be, another orchard
just like it, with its green hills ant
valleys and old apple trees with thei
moss-grown limbs. Today they upheld
a protusion of pink and white bloom
against the blue and gray of the sky; anc
she stood there while the bees hummec
| over the clover at her feet. She was
barely seventeen and beautiful. The sun
light discovered gold in the brown of her
hair and there were golden lights in the
depths of her dark eyes, and she was
fair-too fair, some said who wished to
find fault with her because she was fair
She lifted one slender hand toward the
apple boughs, and the sleeve fell back
from an arm white and finely formed
Then she murmured softly: Mature, |
love thee, love thee, and l shall devote
my life to studying thy beauty, and
nothing shall come between this love and
me-"
The VOW was scarcely spoken when a
youth of about nineteen, accompanied by
large setter dog, came over the hills to
where she stood.
Ruth" he exclaimed on seeing her,
and she said: Henry" then there was
silence for a moment, and she said: 81
did not know you were at home When
did you Gomez
Yesterday. Grandfather has been
quite sick, but he is better today. Aunt
Martha sent for me-
II did not know your grandfather was
sick"
mo. it seems you don't care to know
anything about us any more. Aunt
Martha says you rarely come to the
house now. 1t seems pretty hard when
fellows old playmate gives him and his
relatives a stand-off."
We'll, Henry, we are no longer children,
and mother does not approve of our
playing together any longer''-this with
little smile; then seriously. "She never
did, much, you know"
mo, but you are making her an excuse
for throwing me off, and you know Ruth,
that you are the only one in the world
shall ever care for"
cts silly for you to talk that way;
you have never seen the world What
do you know of it,"
81 know it contains nothing half so
lovely as Ruth Dartmore.
Without commenting on this assertion
she continued: Mother says our sta
tions in life are different You are heir
to all things desirable, while must work
for all that | hope to possess"
He had pushed his cap back, and his
fair hair lay in a wavy mass on his fore
head; a most disconsolate look had crept
into his blue eyes, while his handsome
mouth quiTered with mingled express
sion of scorn and amusement.
Heir to Gehenna!" he exclaimed.
'Heir to a tumble-down old house
waving his hand toward the old red brick
building beyond the orchard. Heir to
an invalid grandfather and a maiden
aunt; heir to an orchard whose every
tree is nortg aged. Yes our stations in
life are different Your father owns his
little home and earns his living. have
no father, no mother, sister or brother;
but l have hope of making my way in
the world and sustaining the honor ofmy
name"
Ruth felt yearning tenderness toward
him when he spoke of having no mother
or sister; but she always enjoyed making
him angry. She loved to see the attitude
he assumed, the fine scorn that flashed
from his eyes, the varying expression Of
his flexible mouth. SO she stood still and
watched him, and when he lifted his cap
and walked away she still stood there
and said nothing.
After he had gone she gathered some
apple blossoms and walked home-a little
whitcwashed DOLLHOUSE at the other end
of the orchard-and the old orchard with
all its bloom and beauty in springtime,
all its golden harvest in summer and
autumn, represented great gulf
the whitewashed box and the tumble
down red brick mansion, because a day
laborer lived in one and a judge i'll the
Other.
Ruth said nothing to her mother about
meeting Henry in the orchard. She ar
ranged the apple blossoms, took out her
color box and was very silent and busy
all the morning, but that day at dinner
Ruth's father remarked to her mother:
Il saw Henry Carridine in town today;
the Judge is sick" Next morning when
Ruth put on her bonnet and started out
Mrs. Dartmore said: 81 think l would
find something besides apple blossoms to
paint today"
There was an old man who lived in Il
suburb of the town i'll little house, with
his dogs and an old housekceper. He was
a painter and he had a strange theory
that painting should be labor of love,
and the reward sought Interpretation
in the work. He lived alone; for no one
iutruded upon him.
When Ruth Dartmore discovered her
talent she applied to him for instruction.
He would have turned away anyone else;
but her mouth and beauty were an in
spiration to him and her enthusiasm
pleased him, so taking ayounger brother
or sister with her three times week she
went to him for instruction. Shortly
after the incident in the orchard she came
to him with a sketch of youth and a
maiden and fine setter dog, under a
large old apple tree laden with bloom,
aud told hi ~ har y,1o,, for tho ,,oinf;pn-