Wayside Courtships   By: Hamlin Garland (1860-1940)

BY HAMLIN GARLAND

AUTHOR OF A SPOIL OF OFFICE, A LITTLE NORSK, ETC.

NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY M DCCC XCVII

Copyright, 1897, by D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

Copyright, 1895, 1896, 1897, by Hamlin Garland

WAYSIDE COURTSHIPS

Hamlin Garland's Books.

Uniform edition. Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.25.

Wayside Courtships. Jason Edwards. A Spoil of Office. A Member of the Third House. A Little Norsk. 16mo. 50 cents.

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK.

The meeting of true lovers' eyes Seems wrought of chance; and yet Perhaps the same grim law abides Therein as when the dead one lies Low in the grave, and memory chides, And with hot tears love's lids are wet.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

AT THE BEGINNING 1

A PREACHER'S LOVE STORY 5

A MEETING IN THE FOOTHILLS 55

A STOP OVER AT TYRE 99

AN ALIEN IN THE PINES 171

THE OWNER OF THE MILL FARM 201

OF THOSE WHO SEEK:

I. THE PRISONED SOUL 223

II. A SHELTERED ONE 226

III. A FAIR EXILE 230

IV. THE PASSING STRANGER 247

BEFORE THE LOW GREEN DOOR 253

UPON IMPULSE 263

THE END OF LOVE IS LOVE OF LOVE 279

AT THE BEGINNING.

She was in the box; he was far above in the gallery.

He looked down and across and saw her sitting there fair as a flower and robed like a royal courtesan in flame and snow.

Like a red torch flamed the ruby in her hair. Her shoulders were framed in her cloak, white as marble warmed with firelight. Her gloved hands held an opera glass which also glowed with flashing light.

His face grew dark and stern. He looked down at his poor coat and around at the motley gallery which reeked with the smell of tobacco and liquor.

Students were there poor like himself, but with great music loving, hungry, ambitious souls. Men and women of refinement and indomitable will sat side by side with drunken loafers who had chanced to stumble up the stairway.

His eyes went back to her. So sweet and dainty was every thread on her fair body. No smell of toil, nor touch of care, nor mark of weariness. Her flesh was ivory, her eyes were jewels, her heart was as clean and sweet as her eyes. She was perfectly clothed, protected, at ease.

No, not at ease. She seemed restless. Again and again she swept her glass around the lower balcony.

The man in the gallery knew she was looking for him, and he took a bitter delight in the distance between them. He waited, calm as a lion in his power.

The man at her elbow talks on. She does not hear. She is still looking a little swifter, a little more anxiously her red lips ready to droop in disappointment.

The noise of feet, of falling seats, continues. Boys call shrilly. Ushers dart hastily to and fro. The soft laughter and hum of talk come up from below.

She has reached the second balcony. She sweeps it hurriedly. Her companion raises his eyes to the same balcony and laughs as he speaks. She colors a little, but smiles as she lifts her eyes to the third balcony.

Suddenly the glass stops. The color surges up her neck, splashing her cheeks with red. Her breath stops also for a moment, then returns quick and strong.