The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1878-12-12

wood fire." he continued, pointing to half
a dozen poised among the flowers at the
roadside. ''rhey are pure red and gold;
and those are floating fairies, that first saw
the light shining through colored win
dows."
And SO, with merry talk, they came at
length to the cottage door, and, lifting the
latch, Janet went in to find her father.
and Jack leaned against the porch of the
house, and looked at the mountain, dark
with the leaning trees, and at the brook
that ran down to the lovely meadow-land,
sweet to the windR, and the bees, and the
butterflies, and marveled at the wonderful
beauty of Sisson and the fair flower that
bloomed there.
"If only it might bloom for me-" he
sighed; and then, swift upon this happy
thought, rose the merry face of Marie
Duvalle, his promised wife; and he had
half resolved to 60 down to the path again,
and put miles between himself and Sisson,
when the door opened, and Janet came out
with her father.
~ would not intrude upon your hospi-
talty," he began, at sight of the gentle old
man, "but friend who spent month
with you last summer, sent me here to
make some sketches for her of your wild,
mountain scenery. She sends you this
letter."
And he drew from his pocket the letter
of introduction Marie had given him, and
put it in the old mans hands.
"Ah, yes; it is from Mademoiselle Du-
vale. Any friend of hers is quite well
come! You shall stay as long as you like,
and little Janet shall show you the bonniest
spots. She knows all the places ma
demoiselle liked best"
Jack turned once more to read his
welcome in Janets brown eyes; but she
had vanished, and he saw no more Of her
| that night.
In the morning, however, she came to
ulo oluO bidfC anu ohSASN w oA]N" $1,000
the way up the mountain.
"I have often been there with ma
demoselle," she said, gently. 81 can
guess which pictures she would like the
best"
"Thanks! But what of the fshing-net?
Are we not to catch butterflies, too?"
lut AZ knnfhar
month, and we should find them in every
path"
But she went for the gauzy net, and,
throwing the light pole over her shoulder,
went on before.
The day had wings The flowers seemed
to bloom more sweetly in the expectant
air, the sunshine to be brighter than gold
against the crag on which Jack sat, with
his sketch-book before him.
He did not sketch all the time. Once or
twice he stopped to help her catch but
terfly, and to fasten it in the quaint cedar
box. More than once he threw aside bis
pencil to tell her story of other lands
and sunny homes.
And so the day fed away and WAS only
a memory in both their hearts. But other
days came, and the weeks heightened into
months, and then suddenly Jack awoke to
the knowledge that he must leave Sisson.
And Janet-the little fair mountain
flower - would bloom for him never
more!
1t was the last day of his stay; to-mor-
row they would be far apart.
"Tell me of what you are thinking,
Janet"
Jack had neglected his drawing for the
last half hour, to watch her down. dropped
face.
She looked up startled to sudden con.
seriousness by his words; but, when she
would have spoken, tears filled her eyes,
and she turned away, silent.
'Shall tell you, then, of what 1 was
thinking, little Janet? You will not un
derstand what mean, perhaps but was
thinking what the loss of YOU will be tt
me, dear"
He gazed at her with firm set lips ant
sad eyes, but his hand trembled as lie tool
in his own the little hand lying in he
lap.
II know you look on me but as tn
chance friend of an hour; but, oh, dar
ling, if I had been free to win and wea
you, no one else should have gathered you
You are the flower of the world to me
little Janet!"
Such a sad, pathetic face she turned t
him, that he could scarce restrain himsel
from snatching the slight form to hi
breast.
: "You have been kind to me-you ar
sorry now for my sorrow !"
"Sorrya"
1t was the only word she could say, br
: but in it Jack Doran felt that world {
love lay hidden.