The Detroit times., 1913-08-09

OF September, and ALREADY ven VI
haze lay I'm the wooded little valleys
and the far slopes had the first bronze
of the ripening crops. Yet II was sum
mer. with a harvest moon drawing up
across the river, round and full ana
golden.
He wandered down old trails from
Eagle Point. Northward along Ihe
hluff were glimpses OF the distant MIS-
sissippi over the sycamores and VII
low sloughs. He crossed the last giaue
IN the ridge over which was Tanner
quarry. Already through the laurel and
NAPLES and young elms palon y,
the white sheer rock arose. anu Vn
this point he stopped TO look oown -,
the valley. From the quarry peu |n.
road ran on winding past the iiins'
corn patches OF the Pocket squalleiS
mt all the unloveliness OF thelr n.
cor homes was hidden In the shaoo"
and all the beauty of the hill beyolu
Iay revealed by the moon. harian
nod moi been on the back trail iol
moro than a year. When ne came -
Tho old familiar rock jutting over tne
cI;ef no started to climb the last sIeP
ona then paused. Some one was oe
tore him. sitting where he had lhteNu,
cd 70 sit. looking as he had wisheu ~
Iook INT over the valley ana ,he
And before he came out or the snau'
on, no knew Il was Aurelie. Aureile'
uho could not leave without one 'is
49, Tho home trail. She had not oeen
IN Iindstrom's house, but tohish' ga
nod ridden over from Earivlile, ueu
IN livery mount at the Sihsiiia " :
craak bridge, and clambered up "
here abe could look either way "
the village or TO her foster-lather
nlace below the quarry. Harlan watcn
ga nor long. She was mute, dry-eyeo'
varv still: but when, at length ne
came out and stood berore hei' 'ui-
ously she did not start.
She moved slowly and looked up a.
him. Her face had all that graVe
nurity Of outline that belied ahke he'
temper and her humor' a.,
1T Just seems she murmureo' do
If was to find you here ia
He remembered now that sue saiu
che was coming to the hills But |
never thought of it. Aurelie' Anu
yet" an
He stopped and she sat forward 10
seA his face. yet you came On the
moonlight made me come, Harlan
+ was restless and--unhappy-and i
remembered such beautiful nghts
here on. very wonderful Septem-
her-life this" She moved over Win
a little friendly gesture. Sit down.
Rut he stood with his hand out 70
inc lichened rock above her.
She did not seem TO notice his con.
straint when | was little ragged
kiddie. used to climb up here Al
vavs ! loved IT. Harlan.
"put T tell you," he answered quiet
w. you came tonight because you re-
membered something else, Aurelie
Yes. she answered simply. our
nights. couldn't quite forget the
last one The night you took me 10
your mothers. Harlan She laughed
briefly And she tricked me-and
ran away. | saw so clearly just
woke up that night, Harlan"
She didn't trick you, Aurele.
Mother couldn't"
"Oh, Well" she smiled wisely. 1T
YOU could realize how I've changed!
That night | was breathless before
her. She appealed to me-she want
ed me to let YOU go--to help you.
Harlan I thought IL was fine that
night-but tell YOU | paid did
love you, Harlan
He watched her face in the moon
light. Mother did something | knew.
wasn't sure but that wasn't what
hurt. Aurelie II was afterward-
your going on the stage-in that way.
Fverything-hurt."
She made a blithe pretense at a
grimace of mo0kery. "Oh, well-boy!
It's all different with you and me. |
was a weak and silly girl to hang on
You and love you, and confuse you
into thinking that YOU loved me- And
that night ! saw all the girls Of your
set and the dancing and the music
II all rushed over me-the difference.
She smiled with tender mystery she
could not deny-he was amazed 10
find how UNNECESSARILY older she
could be In her womanhood-"I knew
you'd forget II | made you. And II
seemed fine II I could make you.
She smiled on bravely. And I'm
glad. We both ought to be glad My"
she was laughing now. I'VE were
both kids. weren't we? Now | know
the world bit-I'm a heap different.
Done growed up. Uncle Mich says. and
he's scared about IL, I'm going TO be
a real leading lady sometime, and
come back aud play in the tin opera
house-play In a piece that hasn't 80
much shooting In it-and you'll be
fat and prosperous and married and
bring your Riddles to see me. And
you'll be mighty glad, Harlan, YOU
never married that Cajun girl from
down-river."
But he would not smile. In the
moonlight on the hillside, she had the
same defying gypsy charm "a Of old :;
wilful, mocklng, humble, buoyant,
when she wished It. All the newt
able vulgarian stamp of her upbring-
ing was vanished; and he felt the old
pathos for her-that what was dear
and simple In her he could find and
save and make his own. The rest
would not matter. He could not
fathom how the invincible heritage OF
his family. was now shamed before
her gay proud honesty. the sense OF
woodland freedom from all the con-