A DAY IN THE WOODS.
When schoolmates who have studied and played together until almost
maturity reach the parting of their ways a feeling of sadness comes to
them; but when out of such a band there are eighteen of the best young
men about to take part in the horror of war, the occasion becomes doubly
so. The last few weeks passed together by the graduating pupils of
Southton Academy came back to them in after years much like the memory
of a funeral. There were no frolics at noontime or after school; no
mirth and scant laughter.
A few of the girls were known to be carrying aching hearts, and it was
whispered that two or three were engaged to be married to young
soldier-boys now in the academy. Liddy wore a new and heavy plain gold
ring, and when questioned as to its significance quietly answered, as
was her wont: "I have no confessions to make," but those who were
nearest to her and knew her best detected a proud look in her eyes and
drew their own conclusions. It was noticed also that she and Manson were
seldom apart during the noon hour, and invariably walked away from the
academy together. As there were other couples who thus paired off it
caused no comment.
When the last day came the academy was packed with the parents and
friends of pupils, and on Liddy's desk was a bunch of June roses. She
knew whose hand had placed them there. When the final exercises began
she felt herself growing nervous. She had never felt so before, but now
the mingled joy and sorrow of the past four weeks were telling upon her.
There were several patriotic and warlike recitations by the young men,
and readings of an unusually melancholy nature by young ladies, all of
which tended to make matters worse, so that when her turn came she felt
ready to cry. But she caught a look from Manson that was like wine. "He
has been brave," she thought; "I will be as much so"--and she was.
When the exercises were over the principal made a brief but feeling
address which raised him several degrees in Manson's estimation, and
that was the end. Most of the pupils lingered, loth to utter the last
farewells, but finally they were spoken, and with many moist eyes among
that gathering of young friends they separated. Some of them never met
in life again.
The few remaining evenings ere Liddy and her lover were to part were not
wasted by them, and the last Sunday was one long to be remembered.
"Come early," she had said the night before; "I have a little surprise
for you." When he arrived at her house that day, just as the distant
church bells were faintly calling, he found her dressed for a ride, and
was a little puzzled.
"I want you to take me to church to-day," she said, smiling, and then
added, in a low voice, "to our church on the top of Blue Hill, where
there will be no one but God and ourselves."
It was an odd thought, and yet, knowing her as he did, it was not
surprising. The simple reverence of it touched him, however.
"Now," she continued more cheerfully, "no more sober thoughts. Let us
try and be happy, and like children once more. Here is a basket I have
packed, and you are to put it in the carriage. We are to dine in the
woods."
The day was one of those rare ones that come only in June, and when they
reached the spot, now, henceforth and forever sacred to them, the
sheltering trees were fresh with new foliage, the birds singing while
building their nests, the summer breeze softly whispering in the
scattered hemlocks, and over all shone the mellow sunshine.
For a long time they sat on the rock, now hallowed by her tears, viewing
the beautiful landscape spreading out below and living over, as they had
many times before, and as young lovers will, all the little incidents of
their lives, and what a marvelous thing it was that they had come to
love each other. It was all a story as old as the rock upon which they
sat, and pure and sweet as the blue violets blooming at their feet. In
the midst of it Manson pointed to a spot in the valley below--a cedar
pasture with an immense boulder in the middle--and said: "Once upon a
time, several years ago, when I was a boy, I was picking berries in that
field, when a little girl in short dress and calico sun-bonnet came
running down a path near me until, almost at my feet, she stumbled, and
girl, berries and bonnet went sprawling upon the ground! Can you guess
who it was?"
Liddy turned her face toward him and smilingly answered: "Was that the
way I entered your heart, Charlie? It wasn't a dignified way, was it?"
"It was at least effective," he replied, "for you have remained in it
ever since."
When the sun was high overhead she arose and said, with bewitching
imperiousness: "Now, sir, you have been idle long enough; you must help
me set the table. Bring me that basket in the carriage."
"If we are to begin keeping house up here," he answered cheerfully,
"perhaps you had better wait till I build you a table."
"I shall be glad if you can," she said, and watched him curiously while
he cut small, straight sticks, and then larger ones with forked ends.
These he drove into the ground under a tree, and placing one stout stick
to connect each of the forked ones and form supporting ends, laid the
others across and close together to make the table. He then placed flat
stones for seats, covering them with the carriage cushions, and when all
was done he said: "My dear, your table is ready; now I will help you to
set it."
"I am glad I brought a tablecloth," she remarked smiling.
When the dainty little banquet board, just large enough for two, was
covered with a snow-white spread and napkins, plates, knives and forks,
and all the attractive results of her culinary art, he smiled, for the
tempting food would make any hungry man smile.
"It's not an elaborate dinner," she remarked, as they sat down, "but you
must get used to my cooking some time, and you might as well begin now."
When the sun was low in the west and she sat near him idly weaving
flowers into the band of his hat, he said: "Liddy, have you never
wondered how I am going to solve the vocation problem I used to worry
about?"
"No," she answered quietly, "and I do not wish to discuss it, either.
Remember, we are children to-day." Then she continued, in a lower tone:
"I have trusted you with my heart, my life, and all the happiness I can
ever hope for, and when the time comes I know you will not fail me."
"I realize what it all means," he answered, after a long pause, "and you
can trust me, for so long as God gives me strength you shall have all
the blessings I can win in life."
They sat in silence until the lowering sun had left the valley in shadow
and smiled only on the hilltop where they lingered. Perhaps the dread
parting that was near seemed creeping toward them with the shades of
night, for his arm stole softly about her waist, and her hand crept
into his. They watched until the last ray of sunlight had vanished, and
when they arose he once more gathered her close in his arms and
whispered:
"Promise me, my darling, that if I never come back you will visit this
spot alone, once a year, in June, and if there be such a thing as a life
beyond the grave, I will be here in spirit."
"I promise," she answered solemnly, "and no man shall ever have the
right to stop me."
When they were ready to leave the place he had to lead her to the
carriage, for her eyes were blinded by tears.