American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1876-07-15
MARGARET LILY.
By CLARA G. DoLLIvER.

mARGARET LILY
By CLARA G. DOLLIvER.
TWAS one of the cheapest of unpaint-
ep, redwood houses, long since turned
black by the rains of some forgotten
California winter, but over the door and
under the window clambered a luxuriant
rosebush with shining leaves and clus-
tering punches of some tiny rose which
had a spicy fragrance, faint and sweet
as some PARKWAY pleasant memory.
In the little garden which sloped
down to the road were q few flowers !;
few enough to be tended by one pair of
hands, and showing loving nature by
their rank and beautiful blossoms.
Margaret" called a feeble, fretful
voice from somewhere within the black
cottage.
Margaret was in the small garden |;
q tall girl, with soft bloom on her
rounded cheeks, and pair of hazel,
electrical eyes; not pretty-far from it
but q woman who drew hearts to herself
as q magnet does iron filings; you felt
it when you met her eyes.
She had been tending her plants, and
even now held in her fingers half
opened, blood-red rose; she was stand
ing in the narrow path, looking too tall
for her small and mean surroundings,
and gazing down the dusty and ugly
road, now at its busiest and ugliest.
Margaret" again called the queru-
lous voice; you could easily believe that
none would call that woman s'Maggie,
she looked every inch SO true to her
beautiful name. Yet she still stood,
hah-smiling, hah-blushing, and neithar
answered nor turned to go in; and yet
one could see but dusty horseman on
. dusty horse coming swiftly up the
road. When he reached the gate he
drew in the reins, and raised his hat
with q citifed grace which Margaret's
eye but rarely saw.
"You. look like Flora herself, Miss
Lily" he said.
Margaret blushed and smiled, and
muttered something unintelligible.
How is your mother to-daya"a asked
the cavalier.
"About the same, thank you" She
spoke out clearly, then, and ringing,
charming voice she had.
More commonplace followed, about
the weather, the dusty road, the ball
that was coming off in McKintry's
barn, and then the feeble voice waned
agained:
Margaret, Margaret" She started
guilty, as though she had not heard it
before. Excuse me,'' she said,
4" mother is calling me.''
SAT least, )" said the horseman, "be-
stow that beautiful rose upon me-"
She went down to tbegarden fence
and handed it to him, and somehow,
whether it was handed too hastily, or
taken too awkwardly, the vicious thorn
ran into her finger, and made her give a
little half -cry of pain. He held her hand
then, saying:
"What shame! I was so awkward!
May cure it in my mothers way, Miss
Margaret?'
She knew, she guessed, and he knew
she did; but she said quckly-he thought
her voice q very sweet one-"What
sOas your mothers wayP" then, in the
same breath, Yes, if it is agood one. -
And the foolish blood from Margaret
Lily's heart thrilled in every vein when
he stopped by his horses head, and
kissed the hurt finger again and again.
"Margaret, /" came the feeble voice.
"Oh! Mr.. Cranbourne!" she cried,
"let me go; 1 must go in to mother
Mr.. Cranbourne let the fingers 60, and
smiled queer smile as he watched her
go up the path in a free, swinging,
graceful way.
He smiled q queer smile for some
minutes as he cantered down the dusty
road; poor Margaret, with her open
heart, would not have liked it could
she have seen it on his face; the smile
on hers was wonderfully different as
she opened the low poor, and went into
the little parlor.
Whatever has kept you so longP''
said her mother, q fretful, palsied, and
partly paralyzed woman, not very old,
but looking old.
+" Forgive me, mother DEAR" said
Margaret, STOPPING to kiss her-he1
heart was full of strange and blissful
peace; 81 am sorry I kept you wait
ing, but Mr.. Cranbourne was at the
gate"
"And who's Mr.. Cranbourne, who
keeps you from your motherP Are you
going to marry himp"
"Oh! mother, don't!" she said en-.
treatingly, yet somewhat with queer,
half-passionate hope thrilling through
her; 81 scarcely know him, you know
He boards at Mattie's, and have only
met him twice before.'
"What does he look likep" said the
mother, with a half-proud, haf-jealous
tone in her quavering voice. She re.
membered very well, although she did
not think it needful to tell Margaret,
that Matte Holmes had "teased +" he,
daughter on the conquest she had
made, and she jumped at the conclu.
sion that Margaret was in love with the
stranger, and the stranger was in love
with Margaret-did not all the men fall
in love with herr But her guess was
less than half the truth, for Margaret
was not quite in love, and the stranger