The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1913-11-27
CHAPTER Tv.--(continued.)

CHAPTER W.-(Continued.)
He went on gently, but troubled by
the tenseness OF her face: "OnIy a
year. And the east isn't far, dear.
Only two days travel or sol"
h asst was an unknown spiendor
TO her. 1t looked too critically, with
the cool measuring OF his mother. the
In his own eyes. And she--she was
ready to give alS, to pour out her life
at his feet. She tool his arm and put
1t about her and looked down at the
front OF her simple little gown. II don't
know what I'll do. / was only going TO
school because Of you, Harlan: 4 nate
Papa Lindstrom won't have that. And
he's hurt. and his wife's no good--just
worn out, and the boys are too little to
help. Sometimes ! think ! ought 70
work-perhaps clerk at Dickinson's
grocery" A @
He smiled at the idea OF Aurelia. the
wild hawk. clerking! She would not
stand 1t a day. Then he WINGED. He
thought of Elsie, the grocerhs daughter.
and her amiable ~patronizing Of the
town girls who worked there; of his
mother giving her orders OF a morning
from the surrey to some young woman
who brought out a scoopful OF sugar
for inspection and ~apologized Tor g de-
lay. Aurelia-she would throw It into
the customers lace IL h fancied a
slight! Z
She read his thoughts. "YouS think ]
couldn't, don't you? oh. boy, ] could
for you! You hold me from being
rebellious and ridiculous. I could lust
do anything for you-run away with
you, or go to work--just anything!"
He felt her trembling In his arms.
Sometimes, Aurelie, / think we ought
to go down to the hous and make a
clean breast of 1t. Tell them every
~thing--that / love you. dearl"
Her voice choked with gr~atefulness-
dimly she could feel what q sacrifice ne
was making. But now the prospect
frightened her. "Oh, no--not yet. Your
father--he'd hate me, now!"
"Hate you? Why, Aurelie, he'd help
you! Maybe he'd get a place for you
at the housekeeping books or some
thing. But you can't keep books.
Iovableness--you'd have to have the
outdoors, or you'd not live. But IL you
did have a place that would pave he
way for you"--he hesitated, wondering
how to say IL and not hurt her absurd
price-"raise you, so that some day
people would sort Of forgetl" "
"Forget?" E.y...I . ~ g..
Where you came from, dear. Down
the river with Old Michigan-and that
you haven't even a name except a Dor
rowed mi from Lindstrom.' He
laughed to smooth 1t over--"Oh, but
it's funny You're a. wild hawk. Au-
relic. / remember when you Nsed to
come into town with Knute to sell rab-
bits, and the coolest winter day you
always had a bit OF bright leaf stuck
somewhere about you-like an Indian
girl! I thought you were at first. Then
/ forgot all about you and went away
TO college, and when I next heard you
~aw ~ hitch ohnni.ror nd than this ynQr
I met you in the hills, here"
And made me love you, Harlan. Oh,
IL wasn't right--it wasn't right"
Then, in the way Of all men and all
lovers, he ~laughingly kissed n com
forted her. They went down a moon
the silent town lay, the court house
tower white as silver above the robing
trees. Sinsinawa vas tinkling down
from the highland at their feet, and
across Ii a trail lay to the first street
at the foot of the bluff. In a window
OF a cottage tucked at the foot Of the
rock, they saw the blur OF a lamp, and
ne knew it was Wiley Curran idling
over his editorials, for the graceless
renegade of Rome had a way of turn
ing night into day and writing or vast
ing hours when decent folk were all
abed. IVA
And when 1t seemed that he was
AOOUI ID IGdtS y dL#SAilS OSSoSNObtOo
parting place, she chung TO him, sud-
denly whispering: Take me with you
oh, take me with you! ! can't let you
go--oh, I can't!"
She held so tightly TO him that he
could not go II he had tried, and after
long vain comforting, murmuring to
her all he had said a hundred times,
he slowly unfolded her arms and looked
| down at her intently. A sense of her
great loneliness without him, without
her school, without the bit of aspira-
ton and of vague hope h had come
to find, touched him rs 1T had neve
done before.
"Aurelie,'' he muttered, Il can't do
that-you know / an u hnlsh
school and buck into work. Before l.
I~-marry YOU" he blurted tenderly.
but you ought to have q place-some-
thing to do and--be while we're wait
ing dearl And I'm going to take you
TO mother and tell her ALL"
She looked up frightened at his stub
born face. "No--no-wait!"
"First ri ten Wiley Curran. You
know mat editor? He's my best friend
here-the only one I care about parti-
cularly in town. And / trust him in
things of this sort-he could look at
It right and honestly, without n
foolishness about my family and that
kind Of thing. Dear, Wen go tell Will
ey and II he says to tell mother and
father, we'll do tt--and have the whole
matter QUIT" He cried out joyously,
brave with the hazard of 1t. He felt
suddenly a man going o to a mans
world and work, knowing that he left
her with the honor Of his faith; and
this brave knowledge was worth all.
the miserable travesties OF good form"
the SNUG and Easy conventions OF hts
set. These were well enough for old
women to fiddle over, but they were
not for youth, nor love, nor the glory