The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1911-11-18

afraid--but she did not notice me at
all. She was tall, slight, graceful
woman, perhaps thirty-five years Of
age. Her face might have been plain
or at least not unusual had it not
been for her dark eyes, wonderfully
beautiful eyes, which were haunted by
an expression of great sadness, per-
haps even of horror. As looked at
her wondered il she could smile.
wondered, too, il she could be unkind
or harsh. I felt convinced that both
were impossible
As the weeks passed / became more
and more interested in Miss Stan
nard. saw her often in the CORR
doris, in the dining-room and at church,
and she was always alone. 7 asked
two or three OF the other guests about
her, but each one gave me substan-
TALLY the same answer: that she spent
every summer at Spring Lake but
made no acquaintances, and that she
was those two things so objectionable
in the eyes OF the world queer and
"aWfully" religious. Perhaps because
I, too, was in the habit Of going to
daily Mass and suspected that they
included me in the latter category, /
was annoyed at their unappreciative,
unsympathetic attitude toward her.
felt certain that she had a story, a
tragic one, more certain that she was
well worth knowing.
Tsxryfon nv,fxy d,1rSya~ OF That sim or
did / see her moved out of her Gus
tomary sad reserve. Once when I
was walking among the hills heard
merry laughing voices and spied Miss
Stannard and two of the poor children
of the village in the valley beneath
me- They were seated on the grass
and had evidently been gathering wild
flowers, for three punches of different
sizes lay near by. On the ground be-
fore them a dainty luncheon was
spread on a napkin. | caught one
glimpse of. Miss STANDARDS smiling
face and then stole away, saying to
myself: "She must have looked like
that when she was a girl before"
And / sauntered back to the hotel
wondering before what.
Another day, just as was about to
leave the church after the seven
o'clock Mass, it began to rain heavily.
stood at the door and looked out
disconsolately, for | had no umbrella
and the hotel was at least a mile
away I had decided that my best
plan would be to run across to Father
Burke's house and borrow an umbrella,
when Miss Stannard came out into
the vestibule. She saw my predica-
ment and offered to share her UNI
brella. II know that we go the same
way" she said I assented eagerly,
glad of the protection half of her UNI
brella would afford and delighted to
know that she had noticed me-
In all my life I never had mer-
rier walk. The wind was so high and
it rained in such torrents that our
one umbrella was almost useless. AS
we became wetter and wetter and the
road more and more muddy, our
spirits rose, and all the way home we
laughed and talked nonsense like a
pair Of sixteen-year-old girls. At the
door we parted and hurried to our
rooms for fresh clothing.
After that Miss Stannard spoke to
me when we met in passing, but she
never gave me an opportunity to say
more than "good morning" or good
night" Sometimes / was inclined to
think that I must have dreamed that
merry and delightfully."- uncomfortable
walk.
1t was late in August before
learned anything of her history. Mrs.
Baker, an old friend of my mothers,
came up from New York to spend
the remnant of the season. I had not
seen her for several years, and the
first day that she was at Spring Lake
we sat on the porch all through the
heat of the afternoon talking Of old
friends and old times. Mrs. Baker
loved to listen and she loved to talk,
so she always knew all the current
gossip and was always ready, or rather
eager, to impart it.
We chatted costly for hours and at
half-past-five were beginning to think
of going to our rooms when Miss
Stannard passed us and walked down
in the direction of the lake. I turned
to watch as I ever felt impelled to do,
and Mrs. Baker, anxious to see what
was attracting my attention, also
looked at her.
Suddenly she gripped my arm con-
vulsively. Il do believe that that is
Miss Stannard!" she exclaimed. "But
how much she has changed"
At once was all excitement Eyes,
she is Miss Stannard. Do you know
her? Who is she?"
Mrs. Baker did not answer my ques-
tons at once. She kept her kindly
old eyes fastened on the retreating
figure, murmuring to herself such ex-
carnations as, Poor, poor girl! How
terribly she has changed! Poor child!
EHxy;I rIa.