A SHORT STORY.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LIV, Issue 13634, 13 April 1908, Page 8

A SHORT STORY.

. By L. J. Moody.

WHSK COWSEN«£AME BACK.

A sense of humour might havo eased the situation. The. haste of Cowden, who was-" grimly, bent on catching the north-bqund train due in an hour's time to pass a town ten miles away; the undisturbed tranquillity of the countryman beside him; who had left his* work' to drive the stranger from one town to the other ; the old nag, ambling along, insensible to all urgings — made up a combination not without the elements of humour, but Cowden was essentially a serious-minded young mam The business that brought him there, on a flying trip despatched to his satisfaction, he felt obliged to get back, immediately to the firm with his report, and to work again. t It was always work with Cowden. His lather, now [dead some years, had often remarked [With pride tha}; there was no foolishiftess about Henry. His .young sister, from her feminine standpoint, declared I with indignation, that he was the only 1 man she ever knew who could bury himself in a lot of. dry books -when the house was full of pretty girls. But the girls,' poor things, had never been of I more interest to him' than so many playful kittensJogging along through the dust and heat, Cowden, in the midst pf liis di&r comfort, became gradually cdnsoious of an exceeding thirst. He knew they had no time to spare, and, moistening his dry Hps r braced himself to- bear- bis ««£; ferings like a man; but presently the sight of a farmhouse nea^-hy tempted him greatly.* . x \ "My friend," he said feebly, "J am dead for a drink. oi water. Do you suppose I could get one there ? J> "Yes," said Jake , ' "somebody'll be around; but don't furgjt," he admonished, as Cowden nurried off/ don't furgitt that you aint got no time to spare if you ketch that train. ' Cowden climbed the. hill on a run, coming at a turnf in the lane upon the house, which he found surrounded by a garden bright with old-fashioned flowers. The verandah was covered with fragrant honeysuckle, and he became aware at once that some one was silting behind tb,e vines. A steady thud and splash reached his ears, and coming tiearer, he saw a girl in a blue -pr^nt gown at a churn. On seeing him, sue sprang to her feet and came to the steps. The sleeves of her dress, which was fresh" and spotless, were rolled above her elbows, revealing a pair of round, white arms. A large apron was tied, snugly about her slim waist. A .pair of very kind, bright eyes looked tftrtgght into his, seeming both to question itnd to sympathise with him in the swess of. the moment, while her cheeks grew. pink. Piled h^gh above a smooth and. innocent brow of milky whifeness, heriruddy hair gleamed like a coronet. Her nose — Cowden could never tfuite recall afterward except that it waaf small and dear; but the mouth, go Sensitive and sweet, smiling nervously one moment to change to a demure gravity the nfejcfc— he s never forgot her mouth. ' . " , "I beg you^ pardon," he gasped, t&moving his hat and vnconscibusly staring at" tne^vision before" him, "but could you give inc. a glass of water? I am ill yjtte&p . hurry, and. if you would be so kind- 1 — '■ — i , "Water!" she exclaimed pleasantly, '"of course 1 'Tshall beb,ack in a momenit." She turned away and with a little run disappeared in the house, returning in a tWinkling, a tumbler of sparkling water' in one hand and one 'of milk in the "other. ' ; "I "brought some milk, too," she laughed breathlessly; "which will you have?" But for answer he only reached for the water, raising it eagerly to his lips. .JEhe girl watched him smilingly as he drained the glass and returned it with a deep breath, of satisfaction and a word of thanks., , .' ' * 1 *' You" were. tnirstyl" she exclaimed. "Some moreP" \ - ,VNo, thank F°V said Cowden, beginning to : move away j, *I v wish I might," he replied, "but\l must catch a train. I haven.' t a moment." . But he stood qquqite still and looked at her. SJ^e made a. picture for a man to carry in' his heart for mariy a day, standing in the sunlight. A kind of good cdmradeship beamed clear from, her cleat, blue eyes, and there was a hint of friendliness, sympathy, and a quick intelligence in ( the humorous little smile which curved her. lips — a sweet and wholesome woman if one ever lived 1 * In a small hand,, half-extended, she held the glass of milk invitingly. c,' 'I must hurry/ faltered Cowden, as he moved away* "You are very kind. Thank you a thousand times." , Then he repeated like an imbecile, "I have to hurry.". By this he had reached the turn of the lane, where he paused and looked back. She stood as he had left her, sweetly smiling. Lifting his hat again, he ran rapidly down the hill. "By George 1" he said to himself, "what a pretty girl! And I had to rush off liW a beast." He groaned aloud. "If I only had a little time or a decent horse!" He climbed into the buggy like a man in a dream. "Well," said Jake, "took you some time., Did you get it?" "What?" jasked Cowden absently. The other stared. "Why, the waW." "The water 1 Oh, yes, yes. Certainly I got the water." They togged along in silence for a timej then "Who lives in that house?" asked Cowden, with elaborate carelessness. "Who?" Back there? Old Major Townly. Who'd you. see?" ' "A young lady gave me the water." '•H'm! That was Sairy. She lives there with her pa. A good looker, wasn't she?" Cowden stiffened. "She was a very handsome young woman. "Didn't see her pa, did you?" "No." Jake chuckled, and then shook his head gravely. "I reckon Sairy has *. pretty hard time. Old Major used to own', all this land around byar, but run it through. They got some swell kin, but they don't nofae of '«m bother with the major. Sairy takes care of her pa. The old man's pretty cranky." What a shame, and what a sweet woman she was ! 'Jlf I were to marry," thought Cowden, "I should ligo just suchli wife." He longed to know more of her, but could not bring himself to question the countryman, /ow ex tremely sensible, for* instance, it would be to ask, say— if she were engaged ! He smiled gTimly, and was gilent. Cowden was enabled to swing on tr the last, sleeper just as the train waf pullihg out. He set to work at oncf studying the notes of an important case," but all the while a blue-eyed, gir? thrust herself distracingly before his eyes. Later, when snugly in his berth, he found himself repeating— "Sarah

;To\vnley ! I shall come back for her — that is, if I ever marry." . The; next day he was home again, and his flying trip seemed like. a dream. 'Serious work, on which he focussed his every mental faculty, absorbed his time and thought i'or several days. Occasionally, though, like a rift of sunshine, or a burst of sweet music, there would come the thought of the cottage on the hill far away where lived the sweetest little woman in the world. After a while . it all became unreal, somehow, a pleasant thing to think of in idle moments, like an air-castle one might build for the pleasure of it and not because it might ever cometruo. At last,, weightier matters called for his every thought. He was making wonderful strides inhisfrofession. His ambition beckoned him on like a beaconlight, and in its pursuit hs was entirely selfish. Weeks and then months went by, ana he would not think of Sarah Tow nicy. Finally ho forgot her. 11. It was ten years after, that Henry Cowden; sitting one day at his desk his private office, gazed idly and at the sunlight which stream•ed in at the west window. His hair had grown gray on the temples, and there was about him the calm of one " whose part it has often been to wring victory from defeat. He was, in fact, as the world agreed, a successful man. '" But £or weeks past, now, he had felt /restkiss and dissatisiied, and found it hard to concentrate his mind upon his ;work, which failed to interest him. ♦ Though never introspective, ho hail suddenly begun to think of himself as being with needs and emotions, •rather than a kind of intellect uai machino to b,e brought to the highest perfection of workmanship. His mother had died some years befdre, an^d his young Jsister having married abroad, ; ihe old house was empty, with boards barring the doors and windows. Ha\ • ing reached the longed-for heights, somehow 10-day lie found them cold and barren. • "After all,'' ho reflected, "of what .good is success, when there is no noe 'but oneself Is it worth while?" He thought of, his connections and acquaintances almost; without number. "Yet . none of them really cares a rap for me ; and that is not the worst of it," he thought with unconscious pathos, 1 "there, is on one for me to care for. I want something, and don't know whit it is," and he sighed deeply. "I suppose I am tired out and need to get away from this hot place, but I can't think of anywhere I care to go," It was then a strange thing happened.. As Cowden gazed unhappily and with unseeing eyes through tho sunny window, suddenly a « vision came. to. hi*n through the mist, of the past. ' Iji a flash there quickened from the depths of memory a scene long forgotten. "Sarah 1 he heard himself saying — 'SSarah Townley!" A sweet face smiled ajt liinv across the years ; a slender girlstop4 on a- vine-embowered veranda and 'ptfei;ecl him a glass of milk. He waajhot and tired and thirsty, and he longed to rest in, the shade with the girl,, but, a countryman and -an^old. Horse ,wa)ted in the road, belo»^{ ■» < ' For Cowden, the door of . his ;mind had opejiea to let in a shaft/. ©f ligTit.Onjthe instant his heart wes>the. heari ( of a> boy. Life was :worth living after alt,, Pfi knew what he wanted I > . When.. »«'day Pr ? so«.-later, he found himself on a tram "and actually on the way south, he was not conscious that* there was anything remarkable t in. %is action. It nature to go straight after.;what he desired, takingrtfeo shortest cut, and now he knew he wished to woo and win. Sarah Townley as^aoon as possible. • Perhaps she was already married, though the wanky old father migh^r deter a ,good many men. It did not- make any difference to him about tne old mjin. He would be. glad to make, his' last days comfortable. This . wou^d. please Sarah, and his heart warmed at ,-the thoog^t. • There" was a chance/ too, that the old man had died, and that she had been forced to seek' the protection trf that unworthy of kin of whom Jake had. spoken^'andimi^ht be, living with them on sufferance. His blood boiled at the thought. Then there was the chance, though he found her still living in the old place -and still unmarried, that she would have none of him. This really troubled him. more than anything. ' Heaven knew there was nothing in him to attract a lovely young woman. Yes, he fully realised that the chances were against him. Only were she to remember him after all these years, would he feel encouraged. Ten yeafs it wafe, and she had seen him but for a moment. True, he remembered her, but thai was different. : Arriving at the little town, he ordera horse, and started out at once over the old country road. vHis was a very sober face as he rode thoughtfully along.' If she only remembered himThe sun was still shining, but the cool of evening had fallen on the- land when Cowden reached the land and dismounting, tied his horse to a tree. He went slowly up the hill, but his heart beat just as fast as it had long ago . when he had , to rim. AH his ( thoughts seemed to frame themselves in the one phrase — "If she remembers!" He had planned the knock at the door, and to a#k Jror the, majors on some pretext of business. He han not thought it possible to, find the girl where he Jhad^ left her, but as he emerged from the Jane he saw her at once. She was sitting on the steps gazing thoughtfully over the fields. Her sewing had dropped from her fingers and lany on her lap where her hands rested idly upon it. To Cowden she seemed unchanged, but a Woman's keener eyes would have seen the difference* — thei hair not so bright as of old ; the cheeks less rosy - y-aApatheticy -aA pathetic droop to the corn--' ers of the mouth; a tired look in the! blue eyes, once so merry and bright. But it was she, the woman he wanted, there in the flosh, just as sweet and dear as ever ! If she only rem em bored ! ; As he came near she turned and saw him, and roso to her feet with the politely inquiring glance of one who greets a stranger at the door. Hat in hand, he paused and tried to sneak. But for once in his life, words failed him. He stood looking at her intently stirred by a faint wonder, and answering his look with the frank and kindly glance of old, her eyos slowly widened, and she drew a deep breath. Thus they stood for a moment, and then she smiled. "Well," she, said softly: "well, will yon bavo milk — or water?" Cowden dropped to the step and his heart sana; a sonpc of thanksgiving. "Both !" he saH, with an answering smile — "both — and I nm not in a ?>it of a hurry."