Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-12-08

| 1oIUzo. n ERE there but two
| AISk1 in the garden-or,
| AA I/E8TA really, was it four?
~ A/1HIH4S For down a long
vi @IIUH alley. just turning
| " ~ EH/dS the corner of the
/ A1A IA %A starry althea bush,
| AAEEH was 1t the flutter
| @EEkAH of white gown
H<Z0S1 and a pale green
iii SS3 10 ribbon? And did
N h<VH H1 one see, or dream
J " one saw, another,
darker shape. bending and lifting
beech bough and passing on? was II
trick Of the eyes, or was it vision OF
I the past. made all of shade and shadow!
1T seems to me, Eugenia.' said the
old man, seating himself near the old
woman. leaning an arm on the sun dial
between them, without consciously read
ing again the legend there. that l have
been in another planet. that | have been
living the life of some one e,se, that, in
returning from all those years in the
orient. 1 take up my real life only by
your side
Il am glad you feel so; if only for the
thought it might sometimes be pleasant
to forget all the long waste of years.
Youth is so disturbed-age is so peace
full
rs age so peaceful? l do not find it
so. l pass my time detesting it. Why.
when my heart is young and 1 feel the
youth of me in every thought. should my
pulse fail me and my body become a
xrracE-fig1re- henf-'
| But il is not a wreck" said the old
woman, looking up intently. You do not
| appear greatly changed to me, although
perhaps you did at first. Except In the
way that the years have written the
script Of high thoughts and actions.
High thoughts and actions of a life
spent in wringlng wealth from the heath
| en- not without some bitterness: Ana
then to go back and finish on the same
hot dishes and the dark faces. For
everything is changed here. Not even
| you, Eugenia, are tine same.
| "Oh, l know it,, sighed the old wo;n-
an. Did YOU not expect it? That Is II
you thought at all about it. Every year,
as 1t passes, carries something that was
precious away with 1t. A woman Is
amused at her first gray hair; 1t Is
! jest time has played. 1t gives her then
| a strange sensation of being human, after
all; and before that she had lett full of
an unquenchable youth. But when one
day she finds her head silvered, then she
| is dismayed. The white dust OF the ROAD
| to death has settled on her. She sees
lovely stiIl n-you are that woman.
| Eugenia. She sees her head powdered,
| 1T may be, as If she were beauty of
| the seventeenth century. with her deli,
/ cate brows, and her eyes as soft and
dark as stars in misty midnight,
| with faint rose on her checks---
"Oh, such a faded rose" ashe sighed.
/ NO You are not the same: But
| something every whit as sweet.
Like the rose that is yeliowed and
| pressed in a book.
| Come. come, we must not speak In
/ this fashion. like two shades meeting
| outside the tombs. At least, l am one.
| he said hurriedly. You. Eugenia. it
young in my eyes! The face OF six
| teen summers swims over the face of
\ sixty"
| 1.-THE sixty have not all been sum-
| mers."
| where you were?
| DO you remember one morning,
| she said, suddenly, when the honey
| suckles were in bloom and the bees
and the humming birds made the air
busy, and the southwest wind blew
from the fields where they were tossing
| the hay in the sun; a day like this;
| and you and sat here by the sun dial
| and two Italian boys, going along
wandered in and played strange tunes
| on their violins-
! Tunes that might have been played
| to the Caesars! Do l remember!
81 wonder what brought them to mind
The fragrance of the new mOwn hay,
maybe 1 suppose those boys with the
red crushed on their golden skins, and
| their lenguishing large eyes. are two hoo
COLLINS by this-if they are not dust and
ashes"
Even an old man can be picturesque.
J If he is Italian
| you would see beauty, Charles, In the
II am not purblind-yet. One morning
this was at the beginning of life, you
know-you came dancing down that path,
wearing white gown and pale green
ribbon. I saw beauty then"
| She laughed.
cit Is pleasant to have been thought
/ beautiful, whatever happens she said.
| They painted my picture in that gown.
now and then, and feel as though had
been dead long while. and were re-
visiting the glimpses of the moon: When
heard that you were coming home
to have you see it.
"You-you felt hostile to that young
girl
II, so old, so DID,
"You, forever young!
Truly. my friend. you must use NOR
measured phrase. The ground on which
we meet is that of impersonal memories.
"And not hopes?'
"Ah. yes. for others. We ourselves hav
nothing to hope for. Our happiness lie
J in the happiness of those dear to US
, Mine. for instance. in that of the youn,
girl you saw disappearing down the al
theas. She wears white and pale greel
ribbons in an innocent fiattery of m.
portrait.
Then / really saw her. And it wa
not some glamour of long ago. a work o
disordered eyesight taut nerves-yO
yourself, and by your side?'
"Ah, you, too long since. ceased to be
fact in my life. for such notions
II ceased to be fact in your life. Wha
have l been thinking of .all these years
| Lot he x1-l,i n