The Connecticut labor press., 1920-07-24
CHAPTER III.
The Shadow on the Waters.


It was not very long before Cousin
Edie was queen of West Inch, and we
all her devoted subjects from my ia
| Their down The south room, which
was the sunniest and had the honey
suckle round the window was for her
and it was a marvel to see the things
| that she brought from Berwick to put
| into 1t. Twice week she would drive
| over And the cart would not do for
her; for she hired gig from Angus
Whitehead, whose farm lay over the
| hill. And 1t was seldom she went
| without bringing something back for
| one or other of u.s. It was a. wooden
pipe for my father, or a Shetland plaid
for my mother, or a book for me, or a
brass collar for Rob, the collie. There
was never a woman more free-handed
But the best thing that she gave us
was just her own presence. To me 1t
changed the whole countryside and
the sun was brighter and the braes
greener, and the air sweeter from the
day she came. Our lives were COM
mon no longer, now that we spent
them with such one as she; and the
old, dull gray house was another place
in my eyes since she had set her foot
across the doormat. 1t was not her
face, though that was winsome
enough; nor her form. though I never
saw the lass that could match her.
But it was her spirit; her queer,
mocking ways; her fresh, new fashion
of talk; her proud whfsk of the dress
and toss of the head, which made one
feel like the ground beneath her feet !;
and then the quick challenge in her
eye and the kindly word that brought
one up to her level again.
The more I loved her the more
frightened was at her; and she could
see the fright long before she knew
the love. was uneasy to be away
from her; and yet, when was with
her, I was in SILVER ali the time for
fear my stumbling talk might weary
her or give her offense. Had known
more of the ways of women might
have taken less pains.
We found our level after time,
when she saw that she had just to do
what she liked and how she liked, and
that was as much at her beck and
call as old Rob was at mine. You'll
think that was fool to have had
my head so turned, and maybe was
but, then, you must think how little
I was used to women, aAd how much
we were thrown together. Besides.
she was a woman in a million, and I
can tell you that 1t was a strong head
that would not be turned by her.
Why, there was Major Elliott, a man
that had buried three wives and had
twelve pitched battles to his name.
Edie could have turned him round her
finger like a damp rag-she, only new
from the boarding school. met him
hobbling from West Inch, the first
time after she came, with pink in his
cheeks and a shine in his eye that
took ten years from him. He was
cooking up his gray mustaches at Ell
Their end, and curling them into his
leg as proud as a piper. What she
had said to him the Lord knows, but
it was like old wine in his veins.
I saw the corner Of a newspaper
thrusting out of his pocket, and !
knew that he had come over, as was
his way, to give me some news, for
we heard little enough at West Inch.
"What Is fresh, majorT' I asked.
He pulled the paper out with -four
ish. "The allies have won a great
battle, my lad" says he. ST don't
think Nap can stand up long against
this. The Saxons have thrown him
over, and he's been badly beat at
Leipzig. Wellington is past the Pyr-