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The Purple Parasol

Chapter 8 LEAVING PARADISE.

Word Count: 1975    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

sought the name, then the departing enchantress. His heart was full of tha

ud," said Justine. Looking over his shoulders, she read aloud: "'Miss

where she lives,

ere are more people there than there are in this whole county. But wasn't she nice, Jud, wasn't she nice? And did you ever see such a beautiful face?" Here Jud's sober, thoughtful e

fifty dollars so unexpectedly acquired were the topics of conversation. Jud insisted upon buying a new dress for Justin

awing a long spear of wire grass through his teeth. She sat beside him, her back agai

could make it

narrowed as if trying to penetrate some shadow. In another moment they opened wide agai

ved with his pencil and pen, his heart bound to the new hope. The prediction at Proctor's Falls had inspired him; the glowing blue eyes ha

looked upon that young woman as a goddess who had transformed her husba

ow in the depths. He knew she was grieving over the fear that some day he would desert their happy, simple home and rush out into the world, leaving her behind until he had won a place for her. She knew tha

n he allowed himself to think of her alone in the cottage, looking sadly at the stars and thinking of him in the rushing city,

making the plunge into the world, and her heart was sore. Night after night she lay awake in his arms, her poor hear

way, his dejection showing in the droop of the broad shoulders. A little gasp of pain came from her lips-pain mingled with love and pity for him. She stood for a moment, reading his thoughts as if they were printed bef

"Don't you think it about time you were trying your luck in Chicago? You surely hav

le to speak. Into his ey

y say it takes a fortune," he said. There was a br

, and their eyes met. For a long time neither spoke by tongue, but they understood. A sob cam

off there and leave you here alone. Why,

in the world," she said huskily. "I'll be lonesome and you'll be lonesome, but it won't be for

ssionately. "Wilderness? With you here beside me? Oh,

nothing by letting you go. You will be a great-you will succeed! Why, Jud, you draw better than any one I ever knew about. Your pictures even

nd they are starving. Wait a minute! Suppose I should fail! Suppose they should laugh at me and I couldn't get work. Wh

de me, and never be sorry that you couldn't do for me everything you wish," she said solemnly. Then she went on quickly: "But you won't fail-you can't, Ju

lp me," said he, a new animation in his voice. "But there'

s of them have gone out into the world and

came too suddenly. He w

lk about this late

settle

to go?" he asked

I do

n leave you, and yet you want me to go

est. It's not like losing you altogether. We'll be with each other soon, I know. You can come home to see me every once in awhile, don't you see? And then, when

of you!"

er to let him remain. To her courage, to the breaking of her heart, was due

t hands. It was she who drove him into the village. In the pocket of his Sunday clothes he carried the names of newspaper artists, so famil

leb Spangler's boy as companions. They were to conduct the affairs of the farm

, thinking of the boy whose curly head was missing from the p

was generally conceded that Jud was a bright boy, but still "he wuzn't much to git ahead, even out in the country, so how in tarnation did he expect to make it go in the city?" A few of the evil-minded saw signs of wan

ng wife come slowly homeward at dusk. That night, while she rolled and sobbed in her b

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