The Watertown weekly leader. [volume] (Watertown, Jefferson County, Wis.) 1912-1917, 1916-07-18
CHAPTER XI.
A PAGAN Thrush.

All tHdL next June day L worked IN
my garden, in a dream. my hands per-
forming their tasks mechanically. |
ran the wheel hoe between the rows of
newly planted raspberries and black
berries, to mulch the soil, without con
seriousness of the future fruit which
was supposed to delight me.
My mind was not on the task Over
and over l was asking the question.
'Do | love her? What permanence is
there in ASPIRING passion, amid gardens
and thrush songs, for a girl who
caresses the sympathies by her naive
delight in the novelty of country life?
How much of my feeling for her is
passion, and how much is sympathy,
even pity?"
Over and over | turned these ques-
tions, while my hands worked me-
chanically. And over and over, too,
will be honest and admit, the selfish
incrustationS Of bachelor habits i'm
posed their opposition to the thought
of union. l had bought the farm to be
my own. lord and master: here | was
at work, to create masterpieces of lit
erature, to plan gardens, to play golf.
to smoke all over the house, to toll all
night and sleep all day if | so desired,
to wear soft shirts and never dress for
dinner, to maintain my own habits, my
own individuality, undisturbed. What
had been so pleasant. so tinglingly
pleasant, for a day, a week-the pres
ence of the girl in the garden, in the
house, the rustic of her skirt, the sound
Of her fingers on the keys-would it be
always pleasant? What if one wished
TO escape from it, and there were no
escape? Passions pail: life. work, am
billions, the need of solitude for crea-
ton, the individual soul, go on.
'All of which means" | thought.
laying down my brush scythe and gaz-
ing into the brook, that | am not sure
of myself. And if | am not sure of my
self, do | really love her? And if
am not sure of that, | must wait"
That resolution, the first definite
things my mind had laid hold on came
TO me as the sun was sinking toward
the west. | went to the house. changed
my clothes, and fastened up the road
to meet her, curiously eager for a man
In doubt.
She was coming out of the door as I
crossed the bit of lawn. dressed not in
the working clothes which she had
worn on our gardening days, but all in
white, with a lavender ribbon at her
throat. She smiled at me brightly and
ran down the steps.
go to New York-but see Twin
Fires first she laughed. I'm al,
ready for the tour
| had not quite expected so much
iightness of heart from her, and l was
a little piqued, perhaps, as l answered,
You don't seem very sorry that you
are seeing it for the last time"
She smiled into my face. "All pleas
ant things have to end" she said, 80
why be glum about it?''
DO they have to end?" said l.
In my experience, always" she
nodded.
was silent. My resolution. which l
confess had wavered a little when she
came through the doorway, was fixed
again. Just the light banter in her
lohS heto AohS IL we w dIhtu uON Ii
the road, and went first around the
house to take look at the lawn and
rose trellis. The young grass was al
ready a fran green from the house to
the roses, the flowers around the white
sundial pedestal, while not yet in
bloom, showed il mass of low foliage,
the nasturtiums were already trying to
cling. with tie aid of strings, to the
bird bath (Which had forgotten to filn,
and the rose rrellis. colored green By
the painters before they departed, was
even now hidden slightly at the base
by the vines of the new roses.
There" said |, pointing to it. sis
the child of your brain. your aqueduct
OF roses, which you refuse to see in
blossom
1.-The child of my hands. too: don't
forget that!'' she laughed.
.Of our hands," l corrected.
1.-The ghost Of Rome In roses" she
said. half to herself. at will be very
lovely another year, when the vines
have covered ="