Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-12-08
TIME TURNS NOT BACK.
By Harriet Prescott Spofford.

j 1T i xS0SOII ~
when / might have oeen daily within
sound of voice sweet as the music that
'fattered to tears that aged man and
poor! We read Agnes Eve together
in this garden
II could almost declare" she said. after
the little miracle of threading her needle.
that such tales have nothing to do with
us. We are so entirely other than the
people of that day
MY Cow, how many recollections! The
place is full Of ghosts he exclaimed.
But very gentle ones"
Are they not vindictive? He paused
on his stick when 1 first went away.
Eugenia,' he said. presently. Il meant to
come home soon, as you know. Then one
and another of the House had the first
right l became head. l thought of a
year or two longer, and independence.
Ideas concerning an independence chang
ed; suffered a sea change
Into something rich and strange.
'And then I said it was too late. Things
had grown vague. j was forgotten. l
stayed on. One day my brother James
wrote me somewhat urgently, and sud-
denly woke to the weight of my nearly
seventy years. And called my men, and
stopped for nothing.
And YOU will stop for nothing when
you think best to return as precipitateiy.
"UnleSs-"
Unless" she said hastily, "you decide
to make your home with these two young
people when they have their home.
Would you counsel that, Eugen1a?
He seemed to love pronouncing her name
with a lingering accent, as II 1t were a
magic word calling up all the sunshine OF
old days.
you might miss your hot suns, your
curries and chutneys. your dark faces
But l should spend every morning,
every evening. with you-if no more. Eu-
gepia-why not? Hark! that bird. What
is he doing with morning and daylight?
Do you-no, you have never forgotten
that ev.ning when We walked together
here, a row of white lilies on either
side
Half guessed in the starlight, making
one think Of angels with their gold harps
in their hands. And sweet as the Blessed
Damosers.'
And then a thrush in the wood under
the hill piped a broken melOdy--voice OF
the grief Of some wandering soul. There
was enchantment in it. For at the sound
We woke; We knew that something had
changed the face of the earth-we turned
10 each other, and our lips"
The old woman's hand, with it's shining
needle, had fallen on her knee; her head
was dropping. mo. no. she said. And
then. quite under her breath, she added:
For the first time
But not the last \
LET us forget she sighed.
But you see that l remember. Things
are not so vague when near YOU"
pered.
Forgot. When I AMI am as much
as much in love"
You never were-very much in love,
again plying her needle. You have diff
Guilty in saying it. You We're simply in
love with love. And now you are think
ing you are in love with that young girl
of long ago-possibly. Certainly not with
this old woman" And she laughed gently
and put on her glasses.
II.
Take those things orr he exclaimed.
Twill you give me my shawl?' she
asked. do you feel any chill In the air?
Elderly folk can get rheumatism from a
fam"
why do you so insist upon the fact
of age?' he asked, impatiently.
perhaps because I cannot insist upon
the fiction of youth. There is youth
down there. in the garden alley. You
can smell the fragrance of the dark red
calycanthus buds where they walk now,
the breath of tropical fruits made spiritu-
al You made me a wreath of them
once
81 will make you another
az would look fine in such a thing
nowv'
"You always looked divinely.''
F~s> fv.Yn NIL I'm ont
It cannot cover the lapse of years and
silence
You mean that my delay has closed
the gates of paradise. Then l shall sit
outside And he tossed off the petals OF
the flower he had picked to pieces. ana
clamorous outside that they let him in, :"
he said.
I'm a great unhappiness the youth. the
life. the love in me was killed l am q
different person from the girl who looked
divinely Tell me 1 shall live hundred
years longer, even with all my disabilities.
my lameness, my coming blindness, the
slight difficulty in my hearing and all the
rest, and 1 will listen-oh. how gladly!
But as for that young girl. she is dead
lang syne. No more of her, an 1t please
your majesty.
"You will hear a great deal more Of her
If / stay here! You feel her wrongs SO
that you avenge them now.
Picking up his stick he traced with the
point some characters on the gravel. II
think it escapes YOU" she said, that
when you first went away l studied for a
little while those characters you write.
There for the silly things!' And, thrust
ing out slippered foot that was still
dainty. she wiped the lines away.
! Wrongs? But no. indeed. All is tran
quill. / am content as things are If some
times a tinge of sadness darkens the mo-
ment 1T is only a tinge. only a moment. II
-affairs-had-had been different / should
have had my precious Angela-pOor Dol
ly's child. She is more than beauty, OF
youth, or life
| ''Or lover
| "She Is love ITSELF
''But you want to hinder ruin Of love
| for her. of hope and joy and fulfllment
| That shows how you value these things
That puts your content to the blush
! That tells me you know what is the hap
pier
"You let me doubt your sincerity
| Charles
why? My brother James writes me
that his boy Francis is making fool OF