The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-03-20
A WOMAN'S HEART.
BY MARTHA MCCULLOUGH WILL
 LIAMS~

| LIAMS.>-
 l Copyright. 1904, by Daily Story Pub. Col | Clarice sang as she cut her sheaf oi lilies-tall white lilies with gold-dusty anthers. breathing out warm heavy sweetness. She was like the fowers-as tall. as straight and slender. as lightly swaying, with the same subtly sensuous suggestion in heavy eyelids and softly swelling chin, despite the austerity of her | eyes. Therefore her song was a contra diction. albeit she sang as if from full heart:
 Now all men beside are to me but as Douglas! Douglas! Tender and true!" The contradiction struck young May nard sharply. He stood in the roadway outside the privet hedge. leaning lightly toward the garden, and snuffing it's fra Erance. Glove pinks were in blossom. and cinnamon roses. not to name coral hon. eysuckle. and the grape vines shading the big untidy arbor. It was almost sunset near enough for the air to be fresh with the first dew. Clarice had waited thus late that laggard lily buds might open to the wooing sunshine. The sheaf was meant for the tall stone jar on the par Tor hearth. Already the big fireplace was full of evergreen boughs. The lilies would show ghostly white against them-as
 
 grandmothers high-backed carved chair.
 Somebody was coming after supper somebody Clarice meant firmly to captl- vate. A rare bird. shy withal, notwith- standing he was pursy and something bald. Hugh Danforth had come back to his old neighborhOod at 45. with money in both pockets. and a wholesome desirE to spend 1t as became a gentleman of leiz- ure. Clarice's mother had been his first love-it was her rejecting him. indeed, that had sent him out into the big world. Of course he forgot her in six months. but when he came back single after all those years, 1t was inevitable that the kindly gossips should look significantly at Clarice. and tell her 1t was really prov idence she had kept herself heart whole and free.
 Clarice laughed away the, implication: at first with some heat. How did they know she had no lover?-anyway how dared they say 1t. she asked herself when she was alone. What if Arthur Maynard was two years younger than she was? He was T, his own master. possessed also of a fair patrimony and hers to take or leave, if she had managed 1t so nobody suspected his devotion. At first blush she had almost a mind to take him out of hand. and f1aunt him in the faces of those who so coolly set her down as loveless. She might have done 1t, indeed. if she had not secretly found out that Hugh Dan forth was very much richer than the oth- CTS suspected-in fact several times mill lionaire.
 That made her look at him with new eyes. All her life had ben cramped and narrow through lack of money. Furthc~- more as a minister's granddaughter, d widows only child. she had had to en- dure both criticism and patronage. Nat urally she revolted against both-not out wardly, but with yelled agonlzings of spirit. Naturally. also. she was keen to queen 1t over her patrons and. critics. Mrs. Hugh Danforth- could do it-lnstant- ly Clarice resolved that she should.
 Danforth was wary as well as shy Clarice understood that far too well to throw herself openly at his head. Rather she left him to her mother and grand father upon his infrequent calls, openly assuming that he had come to talk over old times. But always she showed her self a cheerful and interested listener. even if Arthur Maynard chanced to le there. You! I can talk to you any time 1t is only now and then one gets the chance to go back twenty-five years" she said to him-an1 once Sne added. so Dan forth could not help hearing: "T think the old days must have been better than these-people had room and liberty then to grow up themselves. Now, what with schools and the newspapers. and what they call the spread of inteiliyence' we re all pretty much machine ma 1e-do the same things,and think tho same thoughts. for feor Mrs. Grundy will say we don't know the proper thing"
 Danforth went away fin a glow of grat- fled vanity. He was also vaguely dis quieted. Clarice had not told him out right, but had let him gather some ink ling of how matters stood between h,r Ay. NH,, n IA T l.. IL on him that Clarice was gong to saCrl- flee herself. He did not in the least h'ame her-where could she look for better chance there in the quiet country side. Besides she no doubt thought herself in love with the lad-he was good looking and sweet tempered. then. too. other young women made so much of him. And there were half dozen that would suit him much better than Clarice-Clari~e who deserved so much more than he could give. Right ther" MT. Danforth's spec ulations broke off abruptly. They bore fruit however-in the shape of a formal note. asking leave to call upon Clarice the next Wednesday evening.
 Clarice nodded gayly across her blos- som-sheaf to Maynard. saying: "No. Ar thur. dear. I can't play for you tonight. Run home like the good boy you are, To- morrow morning? Maybe so-but remem- Der, I don't promise"
 Why not?' Maynard asked. vauIting over the hedge, and laying his arm light- ly about her neck. She drew away from him. saving as she buried her face in the lilies: Just because! Who knows what may happen between now and then?"
 That means-yor have thrown me over for Danforth." Maynard said. white to the lips. Clarice flung up her head with a laugh: Not yet" she said. Be req sonable Arthur. dear. The chances are that he is coming tonight to ask me for my mother"
 ;'If he asks for yourself. what will you say?" Maynard persisted, although he be- gan to smile.
 "why, of course: Yes and thanky, sir " Clarice returned. mockingIy. What else could a wise person say? And I'm wise in my day and generation even my enemies acknowledge that"
 NO! You are very foolish-else you'd marry me, instead of staying on at the parsonage not daring to say your soul Is your own" Maynard fumed. Clarice flushed the least bit. 'I shall not stay there much longer" she said, pushing