Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1934-10-19
R INSTALMENT
Prologue

the garden. Her slender,
seventeen-year-old arms were out
flung to the gold and crimson of
the falling leaves.
Her mother said suddenly
"Get a little more limper, Ellen.
You're tightening up. Remember
that you're the spirit of youth,
Just now, and loneliness, and new
dreams. Remember that you're a
magazine cover! Remember that
your re our bread and butter for
next month. And perhaps" her
mother sighed, "for the month
after and the month after that!'
Ellen Aexed her stifening fingers
and dragged her eyes away from
the land into which they had been
peering. Ellen obediently let her
self go limp, inside as we'll as out
side. She wasn't self-conscious
about it, not Ellen. All of her life,
YOU see, she had been posing for
her mother. As a new baby, round
and rosy and naked, in the spring
sunshine. AS a wee tot, in rompers,
making mud pies that would be
transplanted to canvas. AS a child
of seven, reading from a green and
silver story book. AS an older
child, sewing a long, tlresome seam.
Oh Ellen was used to posing-it
was her life!
She answered, now, in kind.
Answered with a question.
And jam?" asked Ellen, idly.
Ellen's mother squinted at her,
over the smudged top of the can
vas. And, squirting, brushed the
fluff of white hair away from her
brow. As far back as Ellen could
remember, her mothers hair had
been white.
but certainly jam" answered
the mother. And smiled with a
sudden brightness that made Elem
breath catch in her throat; that
made her speak swiftly, despite the
catching breath. 1t was almost as
if the smile needed an answer.
"Oh, Mother" she said, and the
words came from the depths of a
worshipful young heart, Il love
you! | love you very much. Very
much, indeed!"
"You mustn't, Ellen" said the
mother, ''love me so much, l mean.
Love-don't ever be intense about
it, child! Love, if you must love at
all, lightly! Giving nothing. TAX
ing all that's offered but-expect-
ing nothing. -"
Ellen's young eyes were search
ing, keen. No longer were they lost
in a far place of dreams.
TITS what you always say about
love-" she told her mother. ITS
what you always say! When l was
a child" (Ah, the quaint sophisti-
cation of seventeen!) cit didn't
seem to mean anything. But now
that Pm grown up, it's strange
you should talk SO. Because
you don't love that way yourself.
Lightly, I mean"
With a small gesture of fnality,
the woman at the easel was wiping
a brush on dingy cotton cloth--a
cloth that held vivid reminders of
many another brush. Her gesture
meant that posing for this day was
over. Ellen knew hat her own
persistence had made the work stop
SO abruptly, and she was sorry. For
winter was near. Beside the bread
and butter, there was a department
store bill! Ellen was sorry--and
yet she was SO weary of evasions,
of being put off!
mot me, Mother!" she insisted,
But, of course, I love you
lightly" she said, with an aching
sort of forced gayety you ought
to know that! If l loved you any
other way, I'd spoil you. And even
you, Ellen, must admit that l don't
spoil you. Do I ever give you new
hats for Easter? Or seed pearls, for
Christmas? Have l ever, even once:
taken you to the city? Have you
ever seen a skyscraper, or a hotel
or even a tea shop? Have you
"How about the time a year ago
when I had typhoid-and the doc
o said l mightn't live?"
Ellen's mother was looking Ut
swiftly, through tears. Her voice
quivered very much. All of thu
laughter had been drained from it
But, my darling," she said, "ot
course, I don't love you lightly!
love you so much, whether you rt
desperately i'll or annoyingly we'll
that it hurts! | didn't want to love
you D-whyl there were times
when I didn't even want you! Fol
l knew that you'd get me, that II