Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1875-10-08

rcon.iuued from first page.

rention that unites in harmony of music
and harmony OF VISION the lovers oi beat
They fingered not long, From the glen
of forget me nots direct path led to Lin
iengroye, and Miss Florence Grey. with
many thanks TO her courteous conductor,
reached home in time to assuagc the us
ing hvsterics of her anxious mamma.
A week after this occurrence an inti-
mate friend of Mrs. Grey asked Florence
to grant her favor. 1.-The agent" she
said, ..of the most artistic photographer IN
New York is stopping for day at "
and am to send by him to the city TWO
imperfect sketches, one pencllling taken
after death, the other an impaired ambro-
type of my dear dead Lillian. The artist
nromised to take from them liie-like
miniature. / feel unwilling to commit
them into a strangers hands, and the agent
leaves town tonight. Will you take them
10 N---for me? You can have my pony
phaetou.
But no; Florence. who luxuriltd in
rambes these beautiful mornings, said she
would rater walk. "Thercsa will go with
me-" She promised and the pictures,
incased in Vienna wallet, were cntrust-
ed to her hands.
Theresa was busy. Florence, nothing
10th, for her sunny soul loved solitude.
ventured off alone Singing, she wended
her way along the dapped path OF the
MONDAY forest
She had reached point where the arch
of foliage opened upon pastures divided
By a highroad on the outskirts OF village
There, while begirt still with the lonell-
ness of wildwood, she saw in an instant
the creeping underwood of her path change
into human FORM she saw hldeous
face staring up at her from the ground,
and 30 close to her that had she not glanced
that second down she would have STUN
bled over him at her next step. A vag-
rant lay stretched upon the sward-a ruf-
fan with some dark-colored object lying
beside him, and scarlet handkerchief
bound around his head. Something fright
full in the sudden apparilion. something
sanguinary in the aspect. struck with ter
ror the Imagination of the girl and she
fled precipitately. She dropped her par
asol, dropped the precious packet OF her
friend, and ran--ran as for dear life. out
of the wood, down the steep hillside, into
the high road between the meadows.
On she ran until she came to a cottage,
threw open the garden gate, and sped up
the path for shelter.
Two men stood in the porch, one
a white-haired patriarch, leaning on
staff, and the other Florence Gray's guide
ofthe forest Their mutual recognition
was instant, and Florence, pale with fright
sinking upon the porch bench nearly in
swoon, held out her hand to this stranger
as to some old friend.
He took the little hand for moment in
Ill, t,n
asked.
..Ihave lost something 50 precious y
gasped Florence, $50 irrecoverably
precious And oh was coward But
that dreadful-murderou -handker-
chef''-she shudeered and lost her breath
upon an appalling noun-'irightened me
so, dropped everything"
She told him presently more coher2ntly
of her experience. He started off in
search Of the pictures, while the old man
conducted Florence into his cool, dim,
summer parlor, and having seen her safe
ly ensconced in the ancient depths Of its
hair-cloth sofa, brought her glass otmilk
strengthened with homemade wine.
In less than an hour the young man re-
urned, not having encounter ed the ped
Ter or recovered the paraso. but bring
ing the ''irrecoverably precious package.
Florence thanked him with all her heart.
She felt herself constrained, although an
internal voice suggested that her mother
would never forgive the imprudence, to
SLOW this young man, whose wagon was
conveniently in waiting, to drive her to
NJ. Her errand there accomplished.
she Miswed him. by the most beautiful
winding road that ever threaded romantic
mir, h,.iI,
to drive her home. She alighted just with
in, or rather just without, the range or
sight from Lindengrove windows.
How well they had become acquainted:
how much, how very much, she liked him
and how appreciative and comprehensive
she felt was his liking for her! Every
thing in their intercourse had been un-
conventional, and now they had parted
without word of future meeting. She
had not even, as common gratitude de-
manded, asked his name. Would they
meet againP
Poets and artists from Homer to Turner
have recognized wonderful force in the
mystic emphasis of REPETITION. And Fate,
whose genius is at heart poetic and arts
tic, has its own fondness for Implications
and antiphonals. In the meeting again of
rloTtucc OIcs anu HeI Suluc tuclc WIS
an employment Of this potent principle.
They met so precisely as they had met
before that the repetition resumed in their
eyes meaning, 4 portent.
Details of coincidence forced themselves
upon observation-the glen of forget-me-
nots at sunset; q sunset flecked with car
mine clouds; Florence in her shepherdess
costume of blue and white Oor the So
journers Of Lindengrove were INDUCING
in another rural fete) her guide reading
the identical little book her hand holding
the same wood leaves. He had named
them TO her before-sumach, wld-rose,
woodbine.
The exact scene which had environed
their first actual meeling-here it was
their eyes had OWNED the sympathy they
possessed for each other-now envroned
their parting; for he said, II leave N
Tomorrow. have taken passage on Sat
nrday's steamer from New York to L-iv
erpool."
Florence Grey's face betrayed sudden
emotion. She had the satisfaction, how
ever. to fatter herself that in ordering
calm speech, she conceaied the uuacoount-