OLD HOME WEEK

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXV, Issue 5134, 28 November 1903, Page 12

OLD HOME WEEK

(By Mrs Ella M. Edsou).

It was Old Home week in tbo littlo village of Lyndon. From distant cities and neighbouring villages camo those who would do honour to tbo homo of their childhood; somo moved by love for their old liome, some by desire to soo their old friends, some by tbo wish to ‘■'show tbo children where wo used to live.” , It was a week long to be remembered, for on all sides were expressed tho love and veneration of the sons and daughters of Lyndon’for their native village; a love and veneration which liad strengthened with years. It was Old Homo week, and tho day of tho grand mass meeting, to bo held, for lack of room in the old town house, on tho common in front of the venerable old building. The speakers of the occasion were all men of mark in the world, and all, oven tbo governor, who was ono of them, “born and raised right hero amongst as,” as ono of tho village patriarchs said. On tho programme it was stated that “songs of tbfc old days” by a well-known singer would form a feature ot the afternoon’s exercises, but tho name of the singer was not revealed. As she stepped upon tho platform, tho master of ceremonies introduced her as Madeline Warren, who hail formerly lived among thorn, but who. as they all knew, was now ono of the stars of tbo musical world.

“She has come back to us for Old Homo week,” said he, “to show her love for Lyndon and for her. old friends.” “Madeline Warron ” ran from lip to lin of tho assembled throng. “Can that bo tbo littlo Mad Warren we used to know ?”

It certainly was, but tho singer, though sho graciously acknowledged the welcome accorded her. was searching for one face in that multitude. For a while sho looked in vain; then, having discovered it, her eyes lighted with joy, and she seemed, as master of ceremonies had said, to bo trying to express her love for Lyndon and for her old friends. Ho was there and sho was to sing for him! This was her only thought, and oh, how sho saug! One simple old ballad after another, each particularly suited to the beautiful little village, her old home. Then at tho last, a tender little lovo song, “By tho River,” and during tho .singing she spoke to him alone; to that one among tho audience for whom and for whom alone all tho strength of years of waiting and longing was put into tho voice of the singer. And ho? Does he realise that the singer before him is but telling their oivn story? Does he remember those twilight and moonlight evenings by the river, when youth was strong and hope was high, and sho was all the world to him? Only too well does he remember, and. as she sings, a hope springs up in his heart that she moans to tell him she is still unchanged, that sho is still true to their early love But this hope ho puts away from his, certain that„suoh happiness is not for him. Ho reflects that sho is only singing to show tho people that, like, thorn, she still little river Lynde, from which tho town is named, and ho goes his way at tho close of the Old Homo gathering, trying to still the longing that has returned tenfold at the sight of the beautiful singer and, at tho words of her love song. He docs not seek her, but returns to his home on the farm of Stone Acres a little graver a littlo sterner than before, but otherwise the same, in his careful consideration for his invalid mother, in his prompt attention to tho details of his work.

And, jn the twilight, he walks, as is his wont, to' the bridge over the river at the Parting of tho Ways. There in tho distance, just visible , over the tops of tho trees, is her old home, Meadow Brook farm; and this is the spot where, in those days of long ago. they used to Unger happy in each other, happy in the lovo unspoken, yet understood, and hero they had parted in the twilight so many years ago, while he, obeying the call of duty, must remain at home, though longing to try to win laurels in the great world outside that ho might ono day fool that ho was worthy to tell her love.

At the Parting of the Ways, there by the river, he had given up all hope of this and of her. He had done his duty, hut must he go unrewarded ? Absorbed in these thoughts, Stanley Eldridgo does not notice that his usual place is occupied; it gradually dawns upon him that' he is not alone, but that before him stands a girlish figure in white, with a white rose in her hair; a figure motionless as a statue, with eyes fixed upon the river helpw, with hands clasped as though in petition ■

Was he deceived or-was it really Madeline? Madeline, just as she had looked that night tort years ago, dressed all .in white; as she had looked when she had said good-bye to him ere leaving him for years; just as he had imagined her every night since their farewell. Ho approached and said gently: . “Madeline, my dear one, have you crime back to me?”

’ And, turning toward him,” she answered :

'T have come hack to make your Old Home week a happy one.”,