The Monmouth inquirer. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1865-1933, 1923-06-07
eyes. remember she answered

Was It some. other moonlight night
in that deeply buried pastY
"Tve always wondered" the colonel
went on musingly, what your real
reasons were.'
Il thought you understood" she re-
piled.
She turned away her face from the
colonel, trying to get glimpse OF that
big silver ball swinging above the
pines and gables. A quick stab of
doubt, after all these years? Impossi-
BILE! She had not misjudged him!
II never understood" he declared
emphatically.
"Father had other plans for me,
and"-she explained hesitatingly--
you didn't seem to be very persistent
you agreed with protest. Even
girl doesn't care for mans reluctant
love''
"True." the colonel acknowledged.
"And the other plans?"
at doesn't matter. They were new
er carried OUT
And now they both took refuge in
the prosiac present.
They chatted about the view from
the veranda, demurred against the
usurping of the river bank by the
railroad, discussed trip up the river
planned for the morrow, gave guess
as to whether they should climb High
Tor
II expected the. girls" she confided,
buoyantly springing into her manner.
"They will be here very early in the
morning. in time to go with us up the
river.'
"The girls?"
A pine Dough lifting slightly in the
breath of breeze cast a lace like shad-
ow on the colonel's face.
"My sisters girls. You remember
my sister Lillian?'
Yes, he remembered.
"She died when they were babies.
They have been my charge since then.
My life has not entirely gone to waste,
| hayeSdone some good"
81 noticed that they still call you
Miss Armftage?s the colonel ventured.
another lacework of shadow drifting
over his face.
'And your" she asked, shaft of
moonlight in her eyes.
81 never married. A man should
settle down in some one place, love,
marry vegetate, maybe" he added
with some bitterness. 1--WE wander
ed, lived and yet"
ooh, why" she broke out, but
stopped abruptly.
do you think man and woman
ever get to understand each other"
she asked, speaking quietly again.
Doesn't something always come be-
tween?"
mot if they love-" the colonel stat
ed in the sincerity of belief
"But our letters"
"Have you kept miner" he asked
quickly.
The breeze had. freshened and q
shadow from the pine bough flickered
across her face now.
Kept them!' she exclaimed, IT,
rroach in her voice, I've carried them
wherever I've gone for~years. They're
up in my room now. And miner"
Il destroyed them long ago." the
colonel confessed.
II thought So"
81 remember things / wrote TO YOU
he went on, after another interval OF
silence, THAT moonlight night when
you drove away home, when wrap
ped a white wooden shawl over YOU
shoulders; it had been day like this
"a hot June day,
1.-THE loose hair in your neck had
twisted into soft little curls. lifted
them as l put on the shawl | watched
the carriage out of sight. Old Sam
drove. You sat with your mother on
the back seat. Does it come back To
you?
"And the letter wrote you that
night after ] went to my room-re
.uctant? No man ever showed his
love more plainly than ], You seemed
TO grow cool, I thought, little sorry
for what had gone before"
"You hung back" she interrupted
How could / know"
ooh, well, maybe 1t is all for the
BEST" he concluded. I've wandered
about, found my WORK in wandering.
done my little part in the world. A
woman would have hated the junke5
ing, or fretting in loneliness if left be-
hind. 1t has all been for the best, 10
doubt.'
$50 1 have thought" she responded
"Who could have mothered these
girls as l have? They are dear girls
with happy lives ahead Of them, l
hope"
They both drifted off into their c~D
thoughts for a few moments.
II wish now that ! had kept your
setters,v the colonel continued regre,
fully. 81 should like to read them
again. They might seem clearer TO me
now, mean more than they did then
"You might read your owp.'
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