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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 1, 1886)
THE WEST SHORE. 239 ONE OF HI3 BLUNDERS. FIVE minutes past nine!" The words wore impa tiently uttorod by a man of fifty, who stood look ing up at the clock on the platform of the little station of Glonwood. This was John Milward, a farmer from Carlton, a pmnll town several miles from the station, a large man in rough tweeds, a tritle gray, slightly bent, bluff, honest looking and clean shaven ex cept for a little patch of whiskor. Ho walked slowly along the wooden platform till he came to whore it sud denly inclined. He paused hero to glanco along the line where it wound like a stream between high grassy banks, sprinkled with fiery poppies and yellow butter cups; but although his eye could traco tho railroad for Boino distance, no white wreath curling up from tho meadows denoted tho approach of tho train. Tho station master and porter watched him, having nothing bettor to do. The former was trying to guess who it was Mr. Mil ward had come to moot, for this was one of those quiet parts of Pennsylvania where every one knows every ouo else; the latter wondering whether it would pay better to carry the baggago of Mr. Mil ward's expected visitor to the dog-cart, and to leave tho minister of the ouly church in Carlton, who always camo by this particular traiu, to Join, tho other porter, or vice versa. John Milward veered round and sauntered back, whereupon the station master pulled out his watch and compared it with the clock, lie oonod his mouth as if to address the farmer as he passed, but seeing that tho latter was dooply occupied with his own thoughts, ho shut it again and went into his oflico. Tresontly Milward removed his hat Biid passed his handkerchief across his brow, lie looked at his hat thoughtfully before putting it on again. It was his Sunday one, and there was a black baud around it, which awoke a train of ideas so absorbing that ho did not hoed the sun striking fiercely on his head, until lie awoko from his reverie with a start at tho sound of a ImiII clanging within a yard of whero ho stood. Five minutes more and the engine steamed in. Mil ward's face Hushed and ho looked eagerly into tho car windows. Throo passengers for Glonwood -tho ruin ister and his nephew, and a young girl in deep mourn ing. As the last-named arrival sprang lightly from tho last car, the farmer approached hor and said, with a shade of hesitation "Are yon-why, yes, it is - Emily!" Tho girl hold out a small hand and looked up nor vously. She winced slightly at tho vigorous grasp it ...... . received, and shrank a little from the ostn look i aa miration. As she raised hor eyes, somo sudden touch of emo- ;,. IIia Imrlv farmer silent It was only apparent in a sliirht contraction of the brow and compression ol the lips, and its cause saw nothing. Bhe had token him in with one swift glance, ami the result was sign. ow minutes later they were sitting side by side in a dog-cart, rattling along the road. " You are tired," said tho farmer, slowly pulling up. " There is a good hour's drivo More you. Hliall I turn back into Glonwocxl and get you a cup of tea or a glass of wine?" " No, thauk you. I would rather wait until wo get homo." He instantly gave tho whip a sharp swish that made tho mare jump and start at an energetic canter, which gradually subsided into a more moderate pace. There was silence for a time, lloth felt constrained and at a os". Tho farmer broke the silence with " Look at that! There's a view!" Ho gave the whip an expressive semi-circular sweep, and, rousing herself, the girl looked round. " It is lovely," she said, but without warmth, as her eyes dwelt on tho varied laudsoae stretching out on all sides in groou hills and dales, with dark woods nestling in the hollows or climbing tho distant slopes. " I hope you will like the place," ho said, after an- other pause. " Oh, yes, I hope so; toll me alsmt it Who is there in tho house besides you 7 I have heard nothing, you know. It is all strange." " Did not your" began Milward, Ins voice not quite so firm as usual " didn't si" tell you anything of us and our ways?" Emily shook her head, but as he was not looking at her alio said " Nothing." " Thero's only mo and AkuImiIi. your aunt You will liko her, I hope."' Little mora was said until they drove in at a white gate and up a gravel drivo to a square, red house, oov orod with wisteria, Tho farmer assisted her to alight, and leaving tho horse to a man, led tho way into a large dining room, where a yulmtantial ta was spread In read iness for the travelers. " Welcome home, my darling," he said, looking at her for a minute. And then taking her in his arms, he kissed her affectionately. "This is your homo for the future, Emily. I can't tell you how glad I am to have you." Emily half shrank from the resounding, hearty kiss es, but the tone of tho simple words touched her. Hho raised her face and pressed her soft HjHt to his cheek. " Thank you, father." The action, for some reason or other, affected Mil ward strangely. A spesin passed over his face, and al most abruptly he turned away. A tall, plain woman came into the room. Milward laid his hand on his daughter's shoulder, " Here she is, tired ami hungry. Emily, this Is your aunt, Aubah." The two saluted each other, and the girl was carried off uUirs. While they were gone the farmer brought in the boxes, which he had at first forgotten, and stxl looking