The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1877-12-06
.sBut stay must not let you go with

oScSuStoio s"Ao S0t' wv
last rose of SUMNER if you please. Only,
pray, don't give it to Fanny. She has
no notion of being left to pine on the
stem.' That's the phrase, isn't itW
II promise you," said Harry, also equal
to the occasion, "that I'll not g We it to
Fanny. I'll keep it to remind me of
YOU. The Last Rose of Summerp You
have chosen your name capitally. Good
by, Miss Murray"
The cutting tone, the mock courtesy
with which this was said, the low bow,
we're all inimitable. On the whole, l
think Harry had the best of it.
Nevertheless, he was in no gentle
mood as he took. the train that afternoon,
and was whirled off to London. He
.aanathematized. have no doubt, the
whole sex; " men generally do it in
similar circumstances. He remained a
few days in-I IoHd8n, but his mood did not
improve. Now and then on insane no.
ton would seize him, as it. has done
others like him, that Kate would repent;
and the postn1an never came round that
Harry did nat half expect a scented
three-cornered billet, the counterpart OF
three or foua MSa8fs which he had re-
ceived from hAS different times, and
which he ssefsdg treasured. But no
billet came. Assshe end Of a fortnight,
as he came outrof hisiclub, he met an ac-
quaintance, WHO had just left Beechcroft.
eve missed yon there, dreadfully,
after you left" said Charley Howard.
"Fanny was quite cross for day or two !;
none of us fellows could get word from
her. But, in spite of this, we were sorry
you went, all of us, except, perhaps,
Stanhope. Yes, Imust except Stanhope.
He's been making his innings ever since
with. Miss Murray. The talk is they're
engaged and I suppose its true. a
brave fellow is Stanhope; for, between
you and me, Kate is too much Of q spirit
for most men. :"
Charleyshad osidea.of the pain he:was
inficting rattle-brains like him never
have But Harry, in conseq equence of that
chance meeting, went home, burned the
three treasured notes, and started for the
Continent the next Saturday.
Meantime the summer months passed,
and Beechcroft, which had been crowded
until September, began to empty. Kate
was now left comparatively alone. AT
first she had; firted desperately with
Stanhope, and had almost made up her
mind to marry him. If he had asked
her, the night after Harry had departed
for France, perhaps she would have &C
cepted him-pique will do much in such
cases. She was spared folly that she
would have regretted oil her life.
Stanhope had not yet summoned cou.
rage; !; and when he did, her mood had
changed.
But others came, and other fortunes
were laid at her feet, for never had Kate
been so brilliant rs during that summer.
It was to no. purpose. Kate was too
noble. after all, to marry o man she did
notlove. A word would have done it |;
but she would have died rather than
write that word ;Sand We suppose every
other woman would have acted like her.
81 So summer went, and autumn came.
Now and then, at first, she was also insane
enough to;think Harry would write; but
this delusion soon passed away; she real
lied, ais Mrs. Thurston had told her, that
Harry, once lost, was lost st.foreyer.
October had come. The leaves were
beginning to futter to the grouad, cold
winds to blow, even the latest roses to
fall. The summer guests had, all de-.
parted, even Mrs. Tburston--and Kate
was alone.
It was such relief to her.. Of late, it
had often been as much as she could do
to keep up appearances. Pride had died
out long ago. =
ing of all this; and it was with difficulty
she could keep back the tears. She. re-
called the last conversation between her
and her lover, All! what earnestness
and passion had underlain Harry's half
testing tone. To have been loved in that
way, and yet to have flung it contemptu-
ously asidel
Suddenly she stopped, A solitary rose
caught her eye, the only one she had
seen that day-the last one, perhaps, OF
the season. She plucked it mechanical
ly, singing in q low, sad voice:
s"Tis the last rose Of summer,
Left blooming alone"
She vas quite unconscious of what she
was doing. Leaning her head pensively
on her hands, she regarded that solitary
rose, her thought meantime far away.
All at once, from the other side of the
garden wall, manly voice began to sing
|saucily:
''I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
~ To pine on the stem. ." =.
She started, coloring violently. Was
it possible? !, Sheknew that voice Who
would dare but Harry? And would even
he
Shame, embarrassment, anger, love,
all agitated her at once. A few months
before the anger would have triumphed.
Now it was the shame.
She turned to escape. But, bewil-
dered, ignorent where she was going, only
ran into the arms of Harry, as he entered
the garden gate.
What did she do, that proud Kate, but
burst into tears, and then struggle to get
away. But Harry held her tight, even
drew her head to his shoulder, and as be
could not get at her lips to kiss her, 70.
she resolutely turned her face away,
kissed her hair.
"DarIipgp he whispered, soothingly,
"forgiye and forget. Don't you love me,
after all, Kate? Heaven knows I love
youP
Kate made no reply, but she ceased
trying to escape. She was only too will
ling to forgive lsnd forget. Gradually
her sobs stopped. At last, Harry, put
ting his unoccupied hand under her chin,
gently raised it, and kissed her full and
fair on the lips.
She smiled at him for an instant
through her tears. Then she blushed
rosy red. Then she sprang away from
his arms like a young leopardess.
"You horrid, horrid wretchl" she
cried. "Don't you think I mean it. You
took one so by surprise, one doesn't know
what one did"
"Nor I either, Kate, DEAR" said Harry,
coolly advancing and recapturing her.