Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 April 1882 — The Lovers’ Caye. [ARTICLE]

The Lovers’ Caye.

“My Maude is a human sensitive plant,” said Mrs. Beckett, rolling up her eyes. “Yes, indeed. \ perfect seolian harp of nature; and I sometimes tremble to think of the rebuffs she is destined to meet when circum* stances force her out into the frozen atmosphere of this cruel world. Ruth!’’ with a curious change of intonation, “go directly and see if Mrs. Hodge has sent home that baakfet of bleached linen.” Ruth Beckett was a slender, olive complexioned fcirl of eighteen, with dark eyes full of indescribable plaintiveness. ' It is not sent home, Aunt Myra,” skid she. “Mrs. Hodge’s daughter is sick, and —” “Mrs. Hodge’s daughter’s sickness has nothing to do with it,” said Mrs. Beckett, sharply. Business is business, and if Mrs. Hodge can’t undertake my table linen I must find some one who can.” “I was going to say, Aunt My—” “Say it then, quickly, and don’t stand there with the dodr open,” in a very audible stage whisper. “if I might go over artflhelp her for a little while, ,r pleaded Ruth. “There is nothing special to do at home today, and—” “Ruth, I am surprised at you,” said Mrs. Beckett. “Nothing very special, Indeed! always something to do in a house like this. I suppose you would like to have poor Maude turn herself into a drudge while you’r running about waiting on all sick poor People in creation. If you’re really suffering for something to do you may go down and help Mary Jane with the preserving. She never in the world will get through herself. And Ruth, here, see that Maud’s pink mnsiin is starched and done up; she wanes to go sketi hing in the woods this afternoon.” And having delivered * these her bests in a s-hrill sotto voce voice, which is easier to distinguish than an absolute shout, Mrs. Beckett smoothed the wrinkles out of her face, called up the regulation smile, and returned to the city boarder, whom report announced to be rich, well descended and desirous of taking unto himself a wife. “Oh, you are going out!” said she. “Yes lam going out,” said Mr. Ildray, carelessly taking up his hat. “Do take that lovtly walk down toward the glen,” said Mrs. Beckett. Dear Maude often goes there to study the beauties of nature. There’s a cavern there somewhere, they call it Lover’s Cave, I believe, but I really never could find it, and if I dould one has a natural dread of rattlesnakes, you know, and black spideis, and ear wigs, and all those 'horrid things. And-”

But, without waiting to hear the conclusion of the widow’s harangue, Mr. Ildray slipped throug the open deor of the room, and sauntered down the cool and shady arches of the garden paths. “What a mother-in-law to have!” he said to himself. “And, yet, I suppose the poor woman meaqs well, and after all Maude is a gentle and beautiful girl, with a world of undeveloped possibilities in her nature. And, what is more to the purpose she loves me. Or at least she told me as much last night when we sat together in the moonlight. And if I could once get her out of this hard grinding atmosphere of dollars and cents, I believe she would blossom into the sweetest perfection. Dear little Maude, she has no idea of fortune hunting, however much that hatchet faced mother of her’s may maneuver. If ever there was a pearl of purity, Maude Beckett is one.” S< Kenneth Ildray sauntered down into the depths of the gien, where the merry little cascades dashed over mossy rocks, and the tremulous ferns lifted their slender green banners towards the sunshine . Deeper and deeper he penetrated until at last, stooping to gather a pale pink blossom that quivered like a jewel on the edge of the chasm, he caught sight of an opening in the rocks, half veiled by trailing blackberry briars and bushes of aromatic sweet ferns. “Ah!” said he meditatively to himself, “this must be the cave.” With a man’s natural curiosity, he entered the aperture, making his way cautiously along the slippery rocks, and bowing his bead to suit the dwarfish height of the moss-enameled walls, until at last he found himself wedged in, with no further prospect of any further discovery. “And now,” he said, still to himself, “I may go back the way I came.” At the same moment, as it seemed to him, the sound of voices from above chimed on his ear. “We’re quite alone here, Ruth,” said a clear, merry accent, which he had no difficulty in recognizing o as Maude Beckett’s. “You can hang up your stockings in the sunshine to dry, while l go on with my sketching.” “Very awkward of me to step into the brook,” said Ruth in the plaintive minor tone 'in which she always spoke. “My boots are full of water.” “Just sit down here and slip them off.” said Maude. “They’ll soon dry.” “They are directly over my head perched on the rocks,” thought poor Mr. Ildray. ‘How on earth am I to get out of this stony house.” 1 I thought perhaps our boarder might be down here somewhere,” said Maud after a brief silence. “Oh, dear how stupid of me to bring my pencils with unsharpened points! And my penknife is as dull as a hoe.” “Maud,” said Ruth, suddenly. “Well?” “I wish you would tell me what you mean!’ “Just at present I mean to sketch that old tree stump with the wild roses blooming all over itj And then I shall go home to tea and put on the mushn drees that you have ironed so beautifully and—”

“Maud, don’t talk nonsense”’ “Well, you did Iron it, btoutifully you know!” J “But I am not talking about dresses and tree stumps,” said Ruth • • r am tolking of Mr. Ildray,” ’ ’ “Oh, Mr. Ildray! Then why don’t you say so?” retorted Maude, while the prisoner below inyoluntarily bit his lip. “I suppose I should frighten , them off into the stream if I bounced out now,”Bai>i he to himself. “But I wish I was any where in the world but here!” “Do you love him?” said Ruth. “Dear me, what a question’’laughingly repeated Maude. If your eyes were arrows of jet they coulden’t pierice deeper Into my very soul.” ‘,No but answer me. Do you?” “No, I don’t!” said Maude Becket. And in his fastness below Mr. Kenneth Ildray felt himstlf turn first hot, and then cold.; “And yet you are encouraging him to a proposal!” cried Ruth. “I must marry somebody,” cried Maude. “Mamma is always preaching that up to me. And Laurie Dean is as poor as a church mome—and if I can’t marry Laurie it doesn’t signify in the least to me whom I marry.” “Very complimentary to Mr. Ildray l” bitterly spoke up Ruth. “He’ll do well enough, responded Maude, her attention evidently fixed upon her drawing. “But, Maude, do leave off that everlasting shading and answer me— Is this fa'r to Mr. Ildray ? Is it—’ “Ah, Ruth, you sly little gypsy.” cried Maude, with a gay derisive laugh, “you have betrayed yourself at last! No, don't wrench your hand away and blush up like a wild rose bud—l know your secret! You love Mr. Ildray! Ah, Ruth, poor little Ruth, I’m sorry for you! He isn’t made for drudges like you, real life, Cinderella, to whom the prince never comes. It’s the old story of the star and the glowworm, Ruth!” “Maude! Maude!”piteously repeated the low appealing voice. “Don’t cry, de&r,” said the merciless beauty. “I shall not reveal your secret. “Only you are such a fool to think that he could ever care for such a swarthy thing like you. Where are you running to Ruth ? Your stockings are soaking wet, and you couldn’t pull on your boots if you were to try, and you’ll tear your feet all to pieces on these rough rocks. Come back, Ruth. Or wait for me at least! ’ A rustling in the trees—the sound of flying footsteps—a sweet laugh, born with the mocking lightness of the breeze—and all was silent. And Mr. Ildray came out of his seclusion, a wise and disenchanted man. “For once I have made a mistake in

my estimate of human nature,” said le. “Little Ruth is a gem—a diamond of the purest water. Perhaps this temporary incarceration of mine has been a direct interposition of providence in my favor.’’ Ruth Beckett could scarcely believe her own ears, a fortnight afterward, when Mr. Ddray asked her to be his wife. “But I—l thought it was Maude,’’ faltered she. “I love you, Ruth,” said the city boarder. “And 1 could never love Maude.” And little Ruth was lifted up at once into the Very highest heaven of bliss while Mrs. Beckett is still ing to secure a rich husband for tier pretty daughter. But Mr. ildray never betrayed the secret of the lover’s cave.