Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1908-11-03
ANANANANANA/\NA/\ANANA/\AN
An Indian Summer
Romance.

| - 4
q Romance. s
IS By MARGARET FOX.
| . Copyrighted. 1908. by Associated 3
IS Literary Press. <
SNNV\V\VJVVIv\VNVVVVVWs
1t had not been an eventful summer
for Marion Leigh. She knew it would
not be when she saw 1t looming up In
all its inevitability-an invalid aunt, an
isolated mountain retreat and herself
In the dual role of nurse and compan-
ion.
But she was wise enough to recog-
nize the time old truth that "beggars
cannot be choosers" and to accept 1t
graciously. AS dependent orphan
she had little voice in the ordering of
her own career.
But now as she watched the leaves
falling silently, somberly, and thought
over the long, tedious days she had
lived through and the longer and more
tedious ones to come her bright cour-
age seemed all at once to leave her.
The proverbial melancholy Of the sea-
son controlled her mood, and she be-
came introspective.
There had been just one bit Of bright.
ness that stood out as relief against
the dreary background Of that monot-
onous summer, and whether she was
glad or sorry for 1t Marion herself
hardly knew.
She had welcomed Bruce Wolcott's
coming with spontaneous delight, not
because 1t had any special significance
for her, but because be stood for all
that she had known Of youth and free
dom and jollity, Of which there was
so little now in her surroundings, 80
much still in her natural makeup.
| But Wolcott had proved more than
merely young and care free and jolly
as she remembered him: he was alertly
sympathetic and unfailingy generous.
In recalling the many thoughtful,
sweet things he had done for her
| Marion refused to blame herself for
misinterpreting them as acts significant
of deeper purpose.
| The change had come almost IN a
day, 1t seemed to her now. 1t was not
that his generosity ceased. but the per-
sonal note that had come so near trans
| forming kindness into love had sudden
ly dropped out Of it.
The comparatively cold courtesy that
was left chilled MariOn's heart. Her
pride nevertheless forced her to accept
| 1t as II she noticed no difference.
Her lips trembled now as she felt
again the bitterness Of the disappoint.
ment and the resignation, but she
knew that she must not give way ut
terly. For that, for surrender to un-
happiness and despair, there was no
time or place allotted IN her life's
schedule. She must be always ready.
always cheerful, always self effaced.
With characteristic determination she
attempted to turn her thoughts into
other channels. but after reading a
| few pages In the book she had brought
with her out under the trees she closed
1t with emphatic disapprovnl.
II could write Il better story myself,
was her mental comment. And she
was soon deeply engrOssed In the ex-
pertinent.
Some three or four hours later In the
day, on his customary way to inquire
after Marion's invalid aunt. Wolcott
came upon the book and the loose
sheets Of paper carelessly slipped into
1t, or. rather. slipping out Of 1t. for the
wind was huttcring the leaves ener-
getically.
A chance phrase or two caught his
attention He read OH without stop
ping to think Of the breach Of etiquette
that he was committing. and then.
having read through to the last, he
turned back to the beginning.
1t was an idylic little fancy.
"In childhood he had been her play
mate" Wolcott read. whenever she
skipped over the green Of the fields II
was with her hand tight clasped In
his If she slipped on the smooth cross
stones in the brook he pulled her up
with jerk. and they both laug 'es at
her dripping little figure. The "ther
children didn't hear him laugh. tC be
sure. In fact, they didn't know him.
because they never saw him. Tee lit
tie girl kept him all to herself. sfraid
to let any one else suspect his ,xist-
ence.
"They often wondered-the poor.
blind, unimaginative other children
why she liked to play so much by her
self. OF course he always walked by
her side when they went to schoOl-at
first adorably shy, just tagging on be-
hind; later. growing bolder and en-
couraged by the little girl, he carried
her books with staggering air Of
possession that delighted her heart.
"But for some inexplicable reason as.
the boys shyness gradually evolved
into an attitude Of debonair cocksure
ness the girl lost all her daring and
assertiveness She no longer took the
lead. In fact. in no time at all She
found herself following his lead, some
times with meekness Of which she
was wholly unconscious and again
with strange mingling Of fear and
tumutuous happiness that proclaimed
him master Of her heart.
but the boy because his power had
come to him so easily was careless OF
It. Besides, there were so many other
things that were more worth while.
He told the girl about some Of them
boastingly. expecting her to share his
enthusiasm. And because she seemed
to him Indifferent and no longer COM
rade interested IN the same things OF
life he sought her less and less fire.
quently, and at length they drifted
quite apart.
"But the girl never forgot. She fol-
lowed his career from afar and was
proud Of all his successes. Yet, much
as she admired and reverenced the
man, In her heart 1t was the boy
whose image she treasured. She still
| imagined him with her, sharing her
keen delight in every bit Of beauty
that she chanced upon, holding her
hand tight whenever the turbulent wa
ters came near sweeping her on with
them.
"If the man ever remembered
And here the fine spun fancy came
to q full stop owing probably to some