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Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

"
"No, no, I do not, you have been to me my royal Emily ever since I first
met you."
"I must have compared strangely with your city friends and their
bewildering costumes."
"It was more strange than you know; you made the picture and they were
the background," he said, and I thought, perhaps, he was going to cut
short the year of waiting and say more. Instead, he looked off over the
hills, and held my hand tighter. We were in Hal's room, and Mr. Benton
entered, saying with great joy in his tones:
"Louis, I have made a success, take a little walk with me and I will
tell you about it."
Louis looked at me a moment, as if to tell me it is the picture, and
with a tender light in his eyes, went out under the sky, which was
beautiful with the last tinge of sunset clinging to it, as if loath to
leave its wondrous blue to the rising moon and stars.
As they passed out, I thought I saw Matthias coming, but must have been
mistaken, as he did not appear. An hour passed and Louis and Mr. Benton
returned, the latter looking wonderfully satisfied and happy, Louis
thoughtful, and I should have thought him sad had I not known of Clara's
picture.
The days passed happily, but through them all I was not as happy as I
had expected. Louis must be sick, I thought; he was so quiet, and almost
sad. Perhaps he had met with less, and I longed to ask him but could
not. I was annoyed also by Mr. Benton, who would not fail to embrace
every opportunity that offered, to talk with me alone, holding me in
some way, for moments at a time.


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