Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-05-30
CHAPTER xxIv.
JUST A FORMAL COOLEY.


 she walked the distance of almost two miles to and from school. The leaves were turning, the naples in front of her home already a glow of yellow, and the advent of autumn only ao- cented the memories clustering around the old red bridge she crossed morning and night Occasionally she paused there on her way home, looking into the slow-fowing stream and thinking of this sturdy young man with kindly brown eyes and earnest ways. In his presence she felt herself somewhat of a child, and yet one who could hold him in restraint with glance. And he had changed so from the old days! Then big, happy, quite harmless boy, now an almost stern man, and more like lion liable to roar at any mo- ment, and who must be treated with due consideration. The old resent meat at his silent desertion was also vanishing, and as she glanced at the pile of bleaching blanks under the will low each day, and realized how only her cool reserve had kept him at distance, so far her face grew rosy. And what was to be the outcomeo Some day this forceful man would scorn her puny barrier, and what then? She could not always keep him at distance; and did she want to? And could she say ives" to question she knew would sooner or later be asked? There would be no opposition if she cid. Aunt Comfort would sew until blind to help get her ready for the all- important step, and then, left alone, would cry her old heart out in soli- tude.
 But could she trust her very life and all chance for happiness, in his hands, and desert the good old soul who had been mother so many years? 1t must come to that, she felt, for his adopt ing Greenvale as permanent residence was unlikely. She was sure his trout raising hobby was but a short-lived fad, and to content himself in slow going Greenvale for long was not to be expected. He had grown used to the busy world of a great city and back to it he must go or be miserable. She even doubted if he would remain there after snow came and the dreary mo- notony of winter began. And as she 1 looked down into the dark, slow-eddy- 1 ing current, and thought of the white pail that would then hide it, and how even the sight of snowbird was re- lief, then the sorrow that all through life keeps pace with joy. touched her heart-and not so much her own as that of another, who had even less to anticipate!
 | hn "a fr rd n was all alike-the same unvarying round of home life, night and morn 1 ing; the long walk to school in heat, rain, or snow; the monotony of lessons .so simple to her, so hard for the pu- i pills; the goings to church to see the same faces each Sunday, and hear the same sermonizing there, to repeat 1t all the next week. It was treadmill existence, without color or excitement. and yet even more so was that of Aunt l Comfort, whose smile and word of greeting on her return each night mprked 1t as the only event of impor- l tance that day. Then all the years since that fatal morning when she, 8 scared child, had flown to Aunt Com { fort; all the loving care, the self-de- nials, the makeshift to get along, the kindly words, the motherly thought for all her needs now returned, like so many hands extended in supplicatiOn, and seemed to impose a sacred obliga- tion.
 She knew what Aunt Comfort would say If asked. She knew what that good souls waiting up for her and the kiss that was benediction meant! But no, it should not be, and, as she turned away from the dark current, 1t was with resolve to say mo" when the time came. and come what may. ] abide with and care for Aunt Comfort so long as she lived.
 And that evening Martin called. T leave for the wilderness to-mor- row." he said, when greetings had been | exchanged, and am taking old Cy I with me-" And then ensued some what humorous Account of how that unique old man felt about the trip ] and what he was likely to meet. It 1 was rather forced, for Martin felt him. self starting upon momentous expe- I dition, and leaving Angie just now was also unpleasant. Then again, he sore- ly wanted to confide in some one. and yet dared not
 A secret is burden, be 1t good or l evil, and all the possibilities of joy and sorrow contained in the one Martin carried made 1t doublc Burden. In due time, and as usual, Aunt Com fort withdrew. and he was alone with Angie.
 And now she too seemed out oi sorts
 My school has been troublesome to-day" she said, in response to his in Guiry, "and the turning leaves always affect me in peculiar way. l am positively unbearable all through the melancholy days" she added, affecting a laugh, "ard I think my school no- ticed it''
 Martin did, at least, and quick of intuition realized that even hint of love-making now would be out of place.
 You are not quite your usual self, be said at last, almost desperately, | "and am way down hill in my mood" :"