Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Uncle Terry ...By... CHARLES CLARK MUNN Copyright, 1000, by I.<o & Shepiurd The long ride In tue crisp sea n'tr following the scanty railroad lunch had given hlui a most amaxlng appetite, and the bountiful supper of stewed chicken and cold lobster, not to roon t Inn other good things of Aunt Llssy's providing, received a hearty accept ance. Although it was dark when sup per was over, he could not resist go ing out on the rocks and listening a few minutes to the waves as they bent upon them. When he returned to the house Al bert found a bright lire burning In the slttln-r room, "I put yer things in yer room," said j Uncle Terry, and, handing hlui a lamp, ho added, "ye know whar 'tis now, I hope; so tmd>c yerself t' bum." Later, when they were all gathered about the fire, both the "wimmln folks" with their BOWlug and Uncle Terry en Joying one of the cigars Albert had brought him, the old man's dice gleam ed as genial as the firelight. He told stories of the sea, of storm and ship wreck and curious experiences that bad come to him during the many years lie had dwelt beside the ocean, and while Albert listened, stealing occasional glances at the sweet faced girl whose eyes were bent upon her sewing, tho neighboring waves kept up tlielr mono tone, and the lire sparkled and glowed with a ruddy light. "Don't you ever get tired of hearing the waves beat so near you7" asked Albert at last. "Waal, there's suthin' curious 'bout that," answered Unclo Terry. "I've got so USter 'em they seem sorter nec essary ter llvln', an' when 1 go 'way it's hard fer me ter sleep fer mlssin' 'em. Why, don't yer like ter hear 'em ?" "Dk yes; I enjoy them always, and they aire .a lullaby that puts me to sleep at once." It was but little past 0 when Uncle Terry arose and, bringing In n baskot of wood, observed, "I guess I'll turn in middlin' 'nrly so's to git up 'nrly an' pull my traps 'fore breakfast, an' then I'll take ye out flshin'. The mackerel's bitin' good these days, an' mebbo ye'll enjoy It." Aunt Llssy soou followed, and Albert was loft alone with Telly. It looked intentional. Tor a few moments he watched her, still Intent on her work. "Have you finished my sketches?" he said finally. "Not quite," she replied. "I had to go up to the cove to work on one In or der to satisfy myself, and a good many days It was too rough to row up there, 80 that hindered me. I have that one finished, though, and the other almost." I Was It possible that this girl had ' rowed four miles every day In order to paint from tho original scene of his ; sketch? "May I see the finished one?" ho | asked. She brought it. Not only was the ; picture of herself sitting In the shade of a low spruce reproduced, but tho fern decorated boat near by. the quiet little cove In front and a view of ocean beyond. It was a charming picture. "There Is only one thing lacking," | she said shyly as he hold it at an angle so the firelight would shine upon It, "and I didn't dare put that in without your consent." "I do not notice anything left out as I recall the spot." "But there Is," she replied, "and one that should be there to make the pic ture correct. Can't you guess?" He looked at Telly's face, upon which a roguish smile had come. "No, I can't guess. Tell me what Is locking?" "Yourself," she replied. "But I do not want the picture to re mind mo of myself. I wanted it so I could see you and recall the day wo were there." She made no reply, and he laid It on the table and asked for tho other one. It wos all done except the finishing touches, but It did not seem to be a reproduction of bis origi nal sketch at the cove. "I took the liberty of changing It a little," she said as he was looking at It, "ond put in the background where you said you first saw me." "It was nice of you to think of mak ing the change," he replied quickly, "and I am very glad you did. I want ed it to portray you as I first saw you." A faint j'nr.h came into her face. As she was watching the fire he studied the sweet face turned half away. Apd what a charming profile It was, with rounded chin, delicate patrician noeo ond long eyelashes Just touching tho cheek that bore a telltale flush! Was that faint color due to tho fire or to his words? Then they dropped Into a pleasant chat about trifles, ond the ocean's voice kept up Its rhythm, the fire sparkled, and the small cottago clock ticked the happy moments away. "How Is Mrs. Lench?" he asked at lost. "Does she pray as fervently at every meeting?" "Just the same," replied Telly, "and always will as long as sho hns breath. It Is, as father nays, her only consola tion." "I have thought of that evening many times since," he continued, "and the Impression that poor old lady inndo on mo with her p'teous supplication, I wonder how It would affect a Boston Church congregation some evening to hove such on appearing figure, clad as she was, rise and utter the prayer she did. It would startle them, I think." "I do not think Mrs. Leach would enter one of your city churches," re ?ponded Tolly, "and certainly not clad as she has to bo. .She has a little pride even If she Is poor." "Oh, I meant no reflection, only the scene wns HO Impressive I wondered how ,t would affect a fashionable church gathering. I think It would do them good to listen to a real sincere prayer that came from some one's heart and was not manufactured for the occasion. Those who wear fine mIi. ? and broadcloth and sit in cush ioned pews .seldom hear such a prayer us she uttered that night." Then as Telly made no response he sat In silence a few moments mentally contrasting tho girl with those he had met In Boston, And what a contrast! This girl clad In a gray dress severe in Its simplicity and so ill fitting that it really detracted from the beonMfnl out lines of her form. Her luxuriant tress es were braided and coiled low on the back of her head, and at her throat a tiny bow of blue. Not an ornament of any nature, not even a ring, only the crown of her sunny hair, two little rose leaves In her cheeks and the queenllko majesty of throat ond shoul ders and bust, so classic that not one woman in a hundred but would envy her tbelr possession. And what a contrast in speech, ex pression and ways timid to the verge of bashfulness, utterly unaffected and yet sincere, teuder nnd thoughtful In each and every utterance, a beautiful dower grown to perfection among the rocks of this seldom visited Island, un trained by conventionality and unsul lied by the world I "1 wonder how she would act if suddenly dropped Into the Nasons' home, or what would Alice think of her." Then, ns he noted tho sad little droop of her exquhrito Hps, and as she, wondering nt his silence, turned her pleading eyes toward him, there came Into his heart in an Instant a feeling that, despite her timidity and her lack of worldly wlBdoro, ho would value her love and confidence far above any woman's he had ever mot. "Miss Terry," he said gently, "do you know I fancy that living here, ns you have all your life, within sound of the sad sea waves, has woven a little of their melancholy into your nature and n little of their pathos Into your eyes. I thought so the first time I saw you, and the more I see of you the more I think it is so." "The ocean does sound sad to me," she said, "and nt times it makes me feel blue. Then I am so much alone nnd have no one in whom to confide my feelings. Mother would not un derstand mo, and if father thought I wasn't happy it would make him mis erable." Then, turulng her pathetic eyes full upon her questioner, she add ed: "Did you ever think, Mr. Page, thai the sound of the waves might be the voices of drowned people trying to be heard? I believe every human being has a soul, and for all we know If-they have gono down Into the ocean their souls may bo in the water nnd possibly are trying to speak to us." "Oh, no, no, Miss Terry. That in all Imagination on your part and due to your being too much alone with your own thoughts. Tho ocean of course has a sad sound to ua all If we stop to think about it, but It's best not to. What you need Is the companionship of some cheerfid girl nboui your own nge." Then he added thoughtfully: "1 wish you could visit Alice for a fow months. She would drive the megrims out of your mind." "I should be glad to have her como and visit me. I am suro I should love her." "I wish she could," he answered, "but she Is a schoolteacher, and that duty keeps her occupied most of the time. I shall bring her down hero next summer." Then, feeling it Un fair to conceal the fact that he knew her history any longer, ho said: "I beg your pardon, Miss Terry, but I know what Is at the bottom of your melan choly moods, ond I kuew It the second night I was here lost summer. Your father told me your history then." "He did? You knew my unfortunate history that night?" "I did, every word of It," ho answer ed tenderly, "and I should have told you I did If 1 had not been afraid It would hurt you to know I knew It then." Her eyes fell, nnd a look of palii come Jnto her face. "Please banish this mood from now on and never let It return," he sold hastily. "1 have como to tell you that In the near future the mystery of your lifo may be solved and, what Is better, that a legacy awaits your claiming. The matter has been In the bauds of an unprincipled lawyer for some months, os no doubt Mr. Terry has told you, but now he Is dead, and I have taken hold of If and shall not rest until you hove your rights. We sball know what your heritage Is and all about your on cestors In a few months." Then he added tenderly, "Would It pain you to hoar moro about it, or would you roth er not?" "Father has told me a little of It, but I know he has kept most of the trouble to himself. It's his way. Since be came back from Boston he has acted like his old self, and no words can toll how glad I am. As for the money, it musl nnd shall go to him, ever penny of it, ond all the comfort 1 can give him as long os he lives as well." "I thank you for what you havo said," said Albert quickly, "for now I shall dare to tell you another story be fore I go back. Not tonight," he add ed, smiling, as she looked at him curi ously, "bnt you shall hear It In due time up at the cove, maybe, If tomor row afternoon Is pleasant, 1, too, am superstitions In some ways." Perhaps to keep Telly from guessing what his story was be talked upon ev ery subject that might Interest her, avoiding the one nearest his heart. It 001110 with a surprise when the Uttlu clock chimed 11, ond be nt once arose ond begged her pardon for the possible trespass upon conventional hours. "You will go up to tho cove with mo?" lie asked as he pause?! a moment at tho foot of the stall's. "1 shall enjoy It very much, and I have a favor I wnnt to ask of you, which Is to let ino make a sketch of you Just where you sat the time your boat drifted away." When he retired It was long after he heard the clock downstairs strike tho midnight hour, nnd In bis dreams he saw Telly's face smiling In the fire light. 10 CHAPTKK XXXV. 'M goln* to give ye a taste o' mackerel ilshln'," said Uncle Terry the next morning aft er breakfast. "We'll go over to I he fish house, an' ye can put on some oilers on' sovo yer good clothes." On the woy they met the well remembered old lady Albert hod first noticed ot the prayer meeting. Sho recognfced him and, offering a rather soiled hand, for she bad been spreading fish on the racks, exclaimed: "In the lord's nome I thank ye, Mr. I'oge, fer reinemberln' o poor old erec tor like me on' sendln' ;hat dress. I moke sure the Lord's teched yer heart, on' if ye ain't a believer yet ye will be." "I am glad my nttlo remembrance pleased you," answered Albert pleas antly. "It was only a trllle, and you need not feel obligated for It." He kept on after Uncle Terry, not wishing to waste any time, but she followed to odd more thanks, ending with, "(io?. bless ye, sir, on' may be worm the henrt o* one good girl, fer ye denorvo It." When he had donned n suit of oilers nnd Uncle Terry was pulling out of the little cove Albert sold: "That old lady Is tho most pious perfton I ever met. No one could doubt ?he means every word she nnyn." "Waal, It's about nil the consolation she gits out o* life, on' 'twlxt you an' me, sho tnkes more'n /ill the rest o' the believers here," answered I'ncle Terry, "an" ot times I 'most ens.v her fer It. She's sorter cracked 'bout re ligion; leastwise that's my notion, on' mebbo It's lucky she Is, set-In s she's poor on' notbln' but that fer comfort. She's smart 'nuff other ways, though, on' there ain't notbln' goln' on here she don't know. She's kind hearted, too, on' If she had anything ter give she'd sfiaro her Inst cent with ye. It enny bedy's ?Ick she's nllus ready to- help. Ttaar's lots o' wuss folkH in the world thnn the Widder Leech." Aud then, as If that crowned the sum total of her virtues, ho added, "Telly au' Ussy thinks lots o' her." He paused for breath and, turning to see if they wore heading right, re sumed his strong and steady pulling. "Thar," observed Undo Terry, point ing to a long aud narrow ledgo, "Is whnr Telly started fer shore nil alone Just nineteen years ugo last Murch." And then he added while ho watched Albert's averted face. " 'Twas au on lueky day fer the poor sailors nn' a lucky one fer us, fer she's been a heap o' comfort ever since." "Tell me, Uncle Terry, why It Is she feels so sensitive regardliiK her history and what Is the cause of the peculiar moods you spoke of last summer. I noticed it last evening, aud It pained me very much." "It's hard tellln'. She's a girl that's given ter broodln' a good deal, an' mebbe when she was told the facts she began ter suspect, some o' her ances tors would be lookln' her up some day. She nllus has been a good deal by hor self sonce she got her BChooIln', an' most likely doln' lots o' thlnkln'. Hut Telly's all right, an' the most wllllu1 an' tender hearted creetur 1 ever seen or heard on. She ll make an niniw.ln' good wife fer some man if she ever llndu tho right 'un." When they reached tho island Undo Terry landed and. going to the top of u cliff, scanned the sea for signs of llsh. "Mackerel's cur'us fish," he observed to Albert, who bad followed. "They's a good deal like some wimmln-?yo never know whnr ter Dud 'em. Yester day morn In' that COVO Jest inside o' tho p'lnt was 'live with 'em, nn' today I can't see u sign o' one. We better sit here nn' wait a spell till I sight a school." To a dreamer like Albert I'age the limitless ocean view he now enjoyed lifted him far above mackerel and their habits. Ills mind was also ocou pied a good deai by Telly, and while he desired to please the kindly old mnn, who Imnglned Dshlug would entertain him, his heart was not In it. "Don't let us worry ubout the mack erel, Uncle Terry," he observed as they seated themselves on top of a cliff. "This lone, uninhabited Island and the view her?> will content me until your fish nre hungry." "It nllus sets me thlnkln', too, nn' wonderln' whnr we cum from nn* what we air here for. An' our stay Is so auiazln' short besides! Wo air born, grow up, work a spell, Kit old an' die, an' that's the end. 'Why, It don't seem only last year when I cum to the Capo, an' It's goin' nigh on to thirty now, an' I'm a'most through my spell o' life. What puzzles me Is what's the k'ood o' belli' l>orn at all if ye've got ter die so soon! An', inore'n all that, if life's the Lord's blessln', as the Widder b'lievog, wh.V are so many only born to Buffer or be crippled nil their lives? An' why are snakes an' nil sorts o' vermin, to say uothiif o' chentin' luwyers, like Frye, ever born at nil'/" Albert smiled nt the coupling of Frye with vermin. "There nre a good many wiser heads than mine, Uncle Terry, thnt have never been nble to nnswer your question," he replied, "and I doubt If they ever will. To my mind the origin of life is an enigma, the wide variations in matters of health and ability an injustice, and tho end a blank wall thnt none who scales ever rcerosses with tidings of the beyond. As some one has expressed It: 'Life is a narrow vale between the cold and bar ren peaks of two eternities! We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, mid the only nnswer Is tho echo of our walling cry.' " "An' right thnr," put In Uncle Terry enrnestly, "is whnr I nllus envy the believers, as the Widder calls 'em, fer they are satisfied what Is beyond un' have It all plct'rd out in thnr minds, even to what tho streets are paved witli an' the kind o' music they're goin' ter have. It's all guesswork, in my way o' thlnkln', but they nre sure on't, an' that feel In' Is lots o' comfort to 'em when they are drawlll' near the end. I've been n sort er scoffer all my life an' can't help bein' a doubter, but there nre times when I envy the Widder Leach an' the rest on 'em the delusion 1 b'llevo they're laborln' un der." "Hut do you believe death ends nil consciousness?" asked Albert seriously. "Have you no hope, ever, of a life be yond this blank wall?" "Snrtlu 1 have hopes, snmo as nil on us bus, but 1 wish I was more sure my hopes wns goin' ter be realized. Once in awhile I git the feel I a' thnr ain't no use in hopln', an' then a little Authln keeps snyln' 'Mcbbo mebbc mebbo' - an' I feel more cheerful again." Albert looked at the roughly clad nnd withered old man who sat near, nnd in whose words lurked an under tone of sadness mingled with a faint hope, and in au instant back came u certain evening months before when the WldOW Leach had uttered a prayer that had stirred his feelings as no such utterance ever hnd before. All tho pnthos of thnt simple petition, nil its nbldlng fnlth in God's goodness nnd wisdom, nil Its utter self abnega tion and absolute confidence In a life beyond tho grave, enmo back, and all the consolation thnt feeling surely held for tho old nnd poverty environed soul who uttered it Impressed him In Sharp contrast to the doubting "mebbo ? mebbo" of Undo Terry. As Albert looked out to where tho waves were breaking upon a ledge, nnd bnck again to this old mnn sitting with bowed bend beside him, n sincero regret thnt it wns not In his power to utter ono word thnt would old In dis pelllug tho clouds of doubt came to him. "Since 1 lnck In fnlth myself," he thought, "nil I can say will only Id* I crease his doubt, i wish I hud as much faith as tho widow, but I have not, and possibly never shall have." For a long tlmo ho snt in silence, living over the yenrs during which skepticism hnd been slowly but surely growing upon him, find then Undo Terry sud denly looked up nt htm. It Is likely tho old man's keen eyes rend nt n glance what was in Albert's mind, for he said: "It don't do no good ter brood over this matter o* bellevln', Mr. I'age; I've wished I thought different many a time, an' more so now I'm gittln' near the end o' life, but 1 enn't, nn' so thar's no use In worryln*. Our 'pinions 'bout theae matters are a good deal due to our brlngln' up an' tho experiences we've met with. Mine, connected with those ns hns perfesscd religion, has, to sny the least, been unfortnlt, but, ns 1 said afore, I wish I believed different." Ho paused a few moments and then added sadly, "This hopln' ain't nllus best fer some on us either, for It's hopln' fer uome one to cum year after year that's made Telly what BliO is nn1 grieved Llssy an' me niore'n she ever knew." Albert looked curiously nt the old mnn beside him, nnd a new feeling of trust nnd affection enmd to him. In SOUO ways Uncle Terry seemed like his own I n liter. Then, following that, came a sudden Impulse to bo frank with 1dm. "Uncle Terry," he said, "I have n little story to tell you, und, us it comes eloso to you, I believe it's right that you should know it. The first time I saw Telly I said to myself, 'That girl Is n prize nny man may feel proud to win.' I asked her If I might write to her, nnd what with her few letters nnd the little I have seen of her I feel that she Is the one I want for a wife. I have not even hinted It to her yet, nnd before I do I would like to fco) that you nre satisfied with me. May I have your copsont to win her if I can':" Uncle Terry reached out and grasped Albert's hand " id, shaking u cordially, answered, "Ye hev my best wishes in the matter, an' I wouldn't say that If I didn't think ye worthy o" her!" Then he added with a droll smile, "Ltssy an' me sorter 'spected that Telly was the magnet that drew ye down here!" "1 thank you for your confidence and consent," replied Albert gratefully. "I am earning an Income that Is more than sufficient for tWO, and If Telly will say 'yes' I shall be the happiest man on earth. And now," he added, let's go (Ishlng, Uncle Terry." "I guess It's 'bout time," was tho answer, "for (bar's two schools work In' Into the cove, an' we'll have some fun." Three hours after, when they lauded at the cove fairly sated with pulling In the gamy little mackerel and happy as two boys, Telly met them with a smile ami the news that dinner was ready. CHAPTnit XXXVI. R Will go In my bont." said Telly the next afternoon when she and Albert were ready to start on their trip to the cove, and, unlocking a small an nex to I * nele Terry's boat house, she showed him a dainty cedar craft, cushioned and carpeted. "You may help me launch the Sea Shell," she added smiling, "and then you may Steer." "No, Unit Is the lady's privilege In all voyages," he answered, "and we must begin this one right." It was a good four mile pull to the mouth of the Inlet, and when be helped his fair passenger out he said: "Do you mean to say you rowed up here alone every day to work on that picture, Telly"; You will let lue call you Telly now, won't you?" "Why not? All my friends do, and I feel you are my friend." Then she added: "Now 1 am going to have my revenge and make you pose while I Sketch this time. It was the other way before." "I am glad It Ih," he said, "for my arms are too tired to use for an hour. How do you want ine, lint on the rock fast asleep, the way 1 was when my boat drifted away?" "Oh, no, that would look ns If you were dead, and as this Is to be m.V re minder of you I want you very much alive." As for tho pose she wanted Albert to assume, she could not de termine which she liked the best. "I want to sketch you In the position moat natural to you here," sho said llunlly, "and must ask you to choose that yourself." "Lot us trim the boot the way mine was that day, and I will sit beside it and smoke while you work." The Idea was adopted, nnd while Telly sketched ho smoked, contented to watch the winsome face, so oblivi ous to his admiring glances. "There," six- observed, after a half hour of active penciling, "please iny your cigar aside and look pleasant. I want to catch the expression of your fail-." When the sketch was completed she asked if he bad any suggestions to make. "Only one. I would like you In the picture and sitting beside me." "I would rather not be In It," she replied soberly. "I only want to see you as you are here today. It may be a long time before you come to tho Cupo again." "Would you like mo to come often?" "Of course," she answered, turning away her face. "It Is ho lonesome here, and there Is no one I care to talk with except lather and mother and Aunt i.each and Mnndy Oaks." Albert's heart began to beat with un usual speed. Never in his life before lid I he felt the Impulse to utter words of love to any woman. "Telly," he said, "I promised to tell you a llttlo story here today, but It's all said In a fow words. I love you, and I want you to share my life and all that I can do to make you happy." A trlflo in coherent, but expressive. For a moment, while the tide of fool ing surged through that queen's heart and Into her cheeks, even to tho tips of her ears, sho was silent, and then, as both her hands went to her face, sho almost whispered: "Oh, no, no; I can not! I can never leave father and mother alone here! It would break my heart!" "Hut you do core a little for me, don't you, Telly?" he begged, trying to draw her bands away from her blushing face. "Just a little, Telly; only say a little, to give me hope." And Iben, as one of the hand.: ho was trying to gain was yielded and as lie softly stroked ond then rnlsed It to Ills lips, she turned her pleading eyos to him and said: "You won't bo angry, will you? And you will como nnd seo me once In awhile, won't you? And let me paint a picture to glvo you when you come?" It may have been the pain in his face, added to her own desolation, that overcame all else, for now she bowed her bead, ond the tenrs came. "I thank you for so much, Telly," ho answered tenderly, "and (lod bloss you for lt. I do not give you up and shall not If I have to wait all my life for you. I enn be patient If I only hovo hope." Ho brushed bis foco with one hand ond, still holding hers, arose and drew her up. Then Albert slyly put his arm around her waist, and on ho drew her to him he whispered, "Just one, Telly, my sweetheart, to mnko this spot seem more sncred," It wns not refused. "Come out on tho point, dear," he sold os she tried to draw herself nwny, "so wo can seo the ocean better. I will tell you !!;; Story i promised lost e vening." He still held her a half prisoner, ond when they wcro seated Where the waves were beating almost at their feet he began his recital. When he came to that portion In which Fryo played a part, nnd ending In suc|| a ghastly denouement, sho shuddered, "That Is the one horrible part of taking your own life," she sold, "to think how you will look ond what those who lind you will sny. If I were to do such a thing I should first mnko sure no one would ever Und me." 'I he remark startled him. "Telly " he ?nid soberly, "do not ever think of such a thing. Would you, whose heart Is bo loving and tender, bunten all those who know you with a lifelong sorrow ?" "No, no, not that way. Only If those who lovo mo were taken I should want tp follow them. That Is all. Pleajo forget I na Id It." Then ?ho told him her own brief history, nnd at lust, after much coaxing, a llttlo of the one sorrow of hor life. "Now I know," he said, "why you avoided speaking about the picture of the wreck the first time I came here." Then In a moment he added: "Telly, I want you to give It to me ami let me take It away. I want It for two rea sons. One Is, it gave me the tlrst hint of your life's history. And then I do not want you to look at It any more." "You may have It," she answered, smiling sadly. "It was foolish of me to paint It." When the sun wns low and they woro ready to return he Bald, "Promise me, sweetheart, that you will try to forget all of your past thnt Is snd nnd think only of vis who love you und to whom your life is n blessing." Thnt evening he noticed Uncle Terry occasionally wntehed her with wistful eyes, nnd, ns on the evening boforc, both he and Aunt I assy retired early. "They wish me well," Albert thought. The next dny Uncle Terry proposed thnt Telly should drive to the head of the island In his place. "I'm sorry ye must leave us, Mr. I'nge," he snld when Albert wns ready to bid the old folks goodby. "I wish ye could stuy longer, but cum ug'ln soon, an' remember our latchstring's nllus out fer ye." When the old cnrrynll bad made half Its dully Journey Albert pointed to a low rock nnd said, "There Is a spot I shall always be glad to see, for It was there Uncle Terry Ilrst found me." Telly made no answer. In fact, she hud snld but little since they stnrted. When they reached the little lundlug no one else wns there. No house was in sight of It, und tho sojitude wns broken only by the tide thnt softly . enrossed the bnrnneled plies of tho Wharf und the weed covered rocks on either side. No bout wns vlslblo ndown the wide rench thnt sepnrntes Southport Island from the mnlnlund, und Iii? It came a light sea breeze thnt barely rippled the flowing tide and whispered through the brown nnd scar- I let leaved thicket back of them. Over all shone the hazy sunlight of October. Telly stood listening nnd hoping that the bout would be late. A look of snd nesa en me over her face nnd a moro than usually plaintive appeal in her expressive v.>c.s. i am sorry you nro going," she said. "It Is so lonesome here, and it will seem more so now." Then, as if that was a confession ho might think unmaideuly, she added, "I dread to have the summer end, for when winter comes the rocks all around seem like so many tombstones." Albert put out his hand as If that would aid his appeal, nnd nn his An gers closed over hers he snld: "I am going away with a heavy heart, Telly, and when I can come back Is hard to say. Will you not promise me thnt some time, no matter when, you will be my own good and true wife? Let me go away with that hope to comfort me while I work and save for a homo for us both. Will you, Telly?" Hut the plaintive face was turned away, perhaps to hide the tenrs. Then an arm stole around her waist, and as he drew her close sho whispered, "When I am no longer needed here, If you want me then I will come to you." She was sobbing, her head resting on his shoulder, and as he kissed her un resisting lips a boat's sharp whistle broke the sacred spell. "Clo a little way back, my darling," he whispered, "until the boat is gone. I do not want any one to see you have been crying." When her misty eyes could no longer see the boat that boro her heart away, she turned, nnd all tho long, lonely way back love's tears lingered on her lashes. CHAPTER XXXVII. mountnlns nround Bnnd gnto wero nriamc with the scarlet nnd gold of nutuiim before life seemed qulto ns usual to Allee Page. The summer idyl hnd passed, nnd though It left n soar on hor heurt she hnd resolutely do teVmlned to put the sweet Illusion out of her luiud. "I wns very foolish to let him see that L eared," she thought, "for It can never be. and by and by he will forget mo, or If he does think of me 11 will be to reeall me as one of his summer girls who had a lit of sil liness." Her heart ached nt times, and In spite of all resolution her lingers would once In awhile stray to tho ehoids of "Hen Bolt," She answered Iiis lettors In a cool, mutter of fact wny. Occa sionally, when he referred to Iiis heart hunger and how hard he was studying In hopes that She might think better of him, she wished that he had no purso proud and haughty mother to stand between hliu and a poor girl, nnd her next letter would be IUOI'0 chilly than over. What perhaps was a bitter sweet thought was the fact that the colder she answered him tho wanner his next letter would be. He happened to mention once that bis mother hud spoken of a certain young lady, wlio belonged to the cream of Boston so ciety, as an eligible match and advised him to show her a little attention. It did not help ids cause. How grateful she was all through those melancholy autumn days that she had n huge school to absorb her thoughts. She wns having u long and hard light with her 6"Wn feelings, ami Imagined she had conquered thoiu when Thanksgiving time drew near and her brother announced ho would run up and spend the day with her. Bite almost cried for joy at tin- news, for proud spirited Alice Pago was feel ing very heart hungry when the letter came. Albert was Just a little surpris ed nt her vehement welcome. "Oh, I have been so lonesome, Her tle," she said when they were alone, "and the evenings drag by :;o slowly! Then you do not write me as often or such nice letters ns formerly, and Aunt Susan never seems t<> notice that I am blue. If It were not for iny school I should go crn/.y, 1 think." "I am very busy these days, sis," Albert replied, "and my mind is all tnkon up With work. Mr. Nason's business Is increasing, and 1 have many clients besides him." Then he added, "How did you like Blanch Nnaon?" "Oh, she was very nice," replied Alice coolly, "and if she wero a poor girl and lived here 1 could easily learu to love hor. As it is, it Is useless for me to think of her as a friend. It was good of her to pay me a visit, though, and I enjoyed every minute of it." "And what about Frank) Hid ho not say a lot of sweet things to you?" Alice colored. "Oh, he is nlco enough," she answer ed, "und tried to make me believe he had fallen in love with me, but it won't do any good 1 am sure bis managing mamma will marry him to some thin girl with a fat purse." "So that H the way the wind blows, my sweet sister, is It? And yet my possible future law partner lias been humming 'Ben Holt' nearly every day for the past two months: You must have smiled on him very sweetly when he < here." "iMe?se do not say any more about btiu, Bert," she answered with a little pnin In her voice. "Ho is all right, but I am too poor and too proud to satisfy his mother, so that is all there is to it." Then sho ndded In self protection, ?Tell me nbout tho island girl I heard you fell In lovo with on the yachting trip aud for whom you deserted the crowd." Albert looked confused. "It Is true, Bertie," she said quickly. "I can seo It in your face. That explains your abort letters. I shall feel more desolate now than ever." "Alice, my sweet little sister," he re plied, resolutely drawing his chair near and taking her hand, "it I? true, an* I intended to tell you all about It, only I hated to do It at first und so put It off. She Is more than pretty, sho la beautiful, aud the most unaffected nnd tender hearted girl \ ever met. But you need not worry. She Is so devoted to the two old people who have brought her up as their own that she will not leave them for me ns long as they live." Then he frankly told Alice the entlro story of his waif of the sea and how she had refused to yield to his plead ing. "And now, sweet sister," be said at last, "I have a plan to unfold, and I want you to consider it well. I am now earning enough to maintain a home, and I am tired of boarding house life. It Is not likely I shall mar ry the girl I love for many years to come, and there is no need for us to bo separated In this way. I think It is best that we close the house or rent it for the present, and you and Aunt Su san come to Boston. I can hire a pret ty flat, and we can take down such of tho furniture as we need and store tho rest. What do you think of the plan?" "Oh, I shall be so glad of the change, Bertte! It is so desolate here, nnd I dread the long winter. But what can I do In Boston? I cannot be idle." "Will not housekeeping for ID0 be occupation enough?" be answered, smiling, "or you might give music lessons and study shorthand. I need a typewriter even now." "But what will Aunt Susan think of the change? And It will be such a change for her!" "She will got used to it," ho an swered. Then, as Alloc begat to LOall/.o what it meant to bid goodby to the scenes of her childhood, tho old home, the great trees in front, the broad meadows, the brook that rippled through them, tho little church where every one greeted her with a smile, and the grand old hills that surrounded Sandgate's peaceful valley, her heart began to sink. Then she thought of the pleas ant woods where she bad so often gone nutting in autumn, the old ralU pond where every summer since baby hood she had gathered lilies, and even thobv. barefooted school children of hers. (TO BE CONTINUKD.) Sweet Pea Contest. The beautiful gold mounted fountain pen offered by the Union Drug Com pany for the prettiest, most perfect and luxuriant bunch of sweet peas brought to the Union Drug Company by May 31st was won bv Mrs. J. W. Clark, Hotel U nion. The seed were given to any ami all applicants who desired to enter the contest. Quito a number of ladies got seed and planted, and there were a number of blossoms brought in ?>n time, but none quite so fine as Mrs. < lark's. Union Times. MERCHANTS NEWS When walk-over go on trouble gooa off. See Copcland's. Be sure to let us show you our line of Go-Carts with different colors of runing gear and upholstery with rubber ijj tires and the improved foot brakes. S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & < o. See that $2.25 line of Oxford for men at Copeland'8. The line of Bed Room Suits thai we have on our sample Moor is made of solid oak, beautifully finished and at prices that will be to your interest t<> see our line before you buy. S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co, Straw Hats for everybody at Cope land's. Our China and Class ware department is complete and wu can supply you with any article you may need for your Home. S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co. White canvas oxfords for women and children at Copehmd's. If your Cooking Stove is not giving you satisfaction and is about worn oul dispose of it and let us sell you a Bucks that is made of the best quality of Iron and is guaranteed to give you satis faction. Sold only by, S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co. Don't buy a Refrigerator, he Cream Freezer or a Water Cooler before you see our line. S. M. & E. H. Wilkes & Co. Furious Fighting. "For seven years," writes Ceo. W. Hoffman, of Harper, Wash., "1 had a bitter battle, with chronic stomach and liver trouble, but at last I won, and cured my diseases, by the use of Electric Bitters. I unhesitatingly recommend them to all, and don't intend in the fu ture to be without them in my house. They are certainly a wonderful medi cine, to have cured such a bad case as mine." Sold, under guarantee to do the same for you, by Laurens Drug Co. and Palmetto at 50c a bottle. Try them to-day. 44?41 Notice. I have sold my interest in the busi ness of Clary, Adams and Co. Laurens, S. C, to J. J. Adams and S. It. Todd who will continue the business and who have assumed <?11 liabilities, 42-3t J. E. Clary. CASTOR IA For Iufants and Children. The Kind You Have Always Bought Signaturo of J. R. Hellams DEALER IN I MARBLE AND GRANITE MONUMENTS Gray Court, S. C. Highest Grades and Finest Work manship in Granite or Italian, Ver mont and Geogin Marbles. Design and estimates furnished on apphca tion. V_ W. B. KNIGHT, Attorney at Law. Strict attention tonll business cid rusted. Office hours 9 a. m. to 5 p. in. Office second floor Simmons' Block. I I ?????????anBMnBBBB mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm We have an equipment of up-to-date Machinery for Commercial Job Work. - We employ only such men as are perfect in their places. - -- -- -- -- We put into each job all the perfection of a superior plant, and all the skill that our force is capable of. - -- -- -- - An order placed with us means more than mere satisfaction it means your printed matter will bear our mark of quality. - - - - - When You want Printed Stationery that has Quality consult Us HIGH IN QUALITY LOW IN PRICE Copeland <& Blackwell In The Advertiser Building, Laurens, S. C.