The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-02-13
} ON THE ISLAND !
] @@@@@@@@@@@ !
BY S. Rheff Roman.

III water Tlpplcu III SHldlI waves,
L broke into narrow line of
foam, ran up short way on the wide
grey beach, then slid back into the
ocean, to begin again it's monotonous
backand-forth movement until, the
tide turning, the wavelets would swell
on the hard sand.
A young woman, who seemed more
suited to Trouville or Bar Harbor
than to this wild, solitary spot, sat
on the upturned keel of Il boat, ship
wrecked and buried in the single,
just beyond the reach of the tides,
half century ago, and whose dimen>
sions could not be guessed at, by
the small portion still visible above
the shifting, heavy white sand, and
looked seward musingly.
Marjorie Stanford pushed back the
straw hat which had been shading her
face, and let the setting sun shine full
upon her, and the sea breeze blow at
will among the light strands of curl
ing bronze-brown hair escaped from
the comb which held their rich masses
in place on the shapely head, held as
as a deer does when startled. Marjorie
by all the rights of laws divine and
indestructible, should have had some
one by her side. Some one in mascu-
line attire, having a sufficient amount
of good looks, youth and brains, to
correspond with those which bounti-
full Providence had so literally vouch-
Safed her. But she was alone. There
was not sign of life anywhere near.
The long beach ran out on one side
bare and solitary, curving off into a
dim line and melting into the tints of
sky and water. On the other, it ended
abruptly where an arm of the sea
separated the island from one closer
in shore, on which cottages shone like
white specks in the distance, and the
walls of the old fort were barely visi-
bic.
Looking around at the immensely
of the ocean, and the complete loneli-
ness of the scene, Marjorie laughed
ruefully, and thought what her nu-
merous friends elsewhere would say
could they but see her sitting on the
rotten hull of an old wreck in this
desolate place, with only the sea anu
few sea gulls for company.
For Marjorie Stanford had been a
bright and particular star in the
armament of fashion, under her
aunt's, Mrs. Will Stanford's, guidance
for various seasons, and had tasted
the sweets of a varied and brilliant
life in big cities and capitals, both at
home and abroad.
Hers had been great social sue
cess, and she had reigned royalty
over that small circle which rules the
world and it's rulers.
By reason of her very remarkable
beauty, and that charm which Ameri-
can women possess par excellence,
Marjorie had grown accustomed to
the destinations of life led by the
women of fashion of our day, and the
ceaseless adulation which surrounded
Eer. The contrast was sharp with
her present existence.
A white-breasted sea gull, curious
to ascertain what this motionless fig
ure so out of keeping with the seren,
ity of the landscape, the sea beating
its everlasting tattoo on the lonely
shore, could be, circled down and
rested on the swing of the pillows,
while gazing at Marjorie in fearless
establishment.
ooh, you dear, free thing! How good
it must be to soar off when the whinl
strikes you. To select your own rest
ing place; not to be forced to count
with accident, duty, pride, nor any
other silly sentiment, but to -"
The seabird, as if in answer, rose
up with sweep of it's pinions, and
giving shrill cry, called it's mate.
From far distance the bird winged
it's way shoreward, and meeting, they
both settled down on the gently heav-
ing waters of the channel, as it swept
cut seward.
Marjorie laughed softly, but there
was mingled regret and longing in her
voice.
"You silly things! so, you are
hampered by ties and shackies? You
were not satisfied with the glorious