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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 1, 1886)
242 THE WEST SHORE. " How gixxl you are!" rose to her lips, but the next instant came another thought, ' He will bo glad to got riil of me." She said nothing, but glanced at her father. It wrui too dark lo hop his face, bo she learned nothing. She could not nnderHtand him. " It ia glutting damp," hu buid tlio liOkt Ulillllto, "you had n'iUr go in." Win moved a few yards toward the Iiouho and then stopped and looked back to where her father geemed a dark shadow against the foliage. Should she go back ami say the words that were in her heart, " you are my father; I will not leave you, only let us learn to under stand each other better." A few moments of indecision, and then she ran swift ly toward the house. At the door she paused again, and took two stej as if to return, but altering her mind she went in. Milward stood by tho gale with his arms crossed on the lop and stared lieforo him into tho darkness. This was only another of his blunders, but like a former one - tho memory of which was very vivid now it was not to ln undone without a severe meutol struggle. He was no longer young ho thought A few years more and ho would bo growing old. He would have liked this one young faco iu the house for a time. She would have married, perhaps, but then he might have what he al ways wanUsl, little children about him, little feet run ning in the garden. Must ho give it all up as he had givon it up before? Must he, all his life, be shut out from the brightness of a homo circle, such as Unit of which ho had lieen a part in his lioyhood? Emily's sad, pale little faco and listless air rose up Ix-foro him and displaced the vision of what might have lieen. He could only koep her with that imprisoned look. Perhaps some day she might lie glad to como home; who could tell? 111. The next day Kmily was aliseut-minded and very thoughtful. She had slept little, for a conflict was going on within her that was now almost decided. She would U in no hurry to put it into words, but in her heart she had resolved to stay. To stay iu spite of Aunt A.ubah. For the discon tented girl and tho practical elderly spinster were not on the Ixttt of terms. AkiiIwIi was devota! to her broth er in her undemonstrative way. Before Emily came she had felt jealous of her anticipated influence aud po sition with him. Now that she was there, Axulwh was growing to dinlike her lieoauso of her indifference to his affection. Kmily only returned the dislike in a half-hearted fashion. She svoid.nl Miss Milward when she could, and on the Monday afternoon, to gel away from her, she provided herself with a lu.k.t and wandered out into (ho lanes. She was too alworM in thought to look altout her as she went, and scarcely noticed where her footMleiw tended. In imagination she was back among her old friends, in that happy life of visiting and being visited, of occasional theaters or " at homes," with her mother for her constant companion. How pleasant it had been! How dreary and blank her life hnd become! "Miss Milward! How fortunate!" broke in on her reflections, and she started and raised her eyes to see Edgar Burnet advancing. " I scarcely hoped for such good fortune," he contin ued, as he held her hand, " are you going anywhere, may I accompany you?" Her negative movement was so faint that he went on by her side. "I am only botanizing," said Emily, "or rather look ing for specimens to study in the evening. I an not esjiecially fond of botany, but it gives me something to do." " You must be very hard up for amusement," he con tinued, sympathetically, " I never could see what pleas ure there could be in learning the Latin name of every weed that grows. Have you no books?" " Oh, yes! Mrs. Blakely sends me plenty; but one can not always read." " I wish I were not obliged to go back to town. It is a shame that you should be buried out here." They wandered on for some distance, the conversa tion soon gliding to topics of mutual interest, music, theaters and other common subjects of small talk in the circle in which they had both revolved. Emily grew an imated and laughed, as she had almost forgotten how to do of late. This unwonted sound greeted the ears of Tom Blake ly, as he leaped over a stile that terminated a wood land pathway, aud saw thoir retreating figures in the distance. He stood still for a minute, gazing after the pair in blank astonishment, then followed with a gloomy "brow. Directly after Emily stopped, for she began to think she had gone far enough. They began to retrace their steps, seeing which Blakely turned aside and passed through a cornfield to avoid them. He did not go far, but sat on a gate and became moodily thoughtful. After awhile ho, too, retraced his steps, and came out again upon the road. Meanwhile, Burnet and Emily neared the farm, their stejw slackening as the end of the walk seemed at hand They stopped at the gate, and then Emily looked into her basket and laughed. "There!" she said "That is all your fault, Mr. Burnet! I have no weeds, as you call them, to study to night" ' " I am srory, but talking is better thau botanizing. It has been a delightful walk. Can't we repeat it? Are you going again to-morrow morniug? Let us arrange to meet" " Oh, no!-I don't know!" stammered Emily, shrink ing from the idea of making anything approaching an assignment