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

springtime life and beauty. The snow had
melted on the hills, and was running and
lraping down the valley in sunny brooks
and dimpled cascades; and on all the
bridges, laughing children stood, tossing
buds and blossoms down into the water,
shouting to each other in glee, as the fairy
things were carried out Of sight.
On the hilsides, and all along the valley,
the violets were coming into gloom; and
young lilies were showing their fair faces
among the tender, green blades of grass.
New born, and blithe, and beautiful, the
world seemed at Sisson.
Over one of the half dozen bridges that
crossed the widest stream, Janet Brockie
walked slender figure, wrapped in rus
set gray-the hood of her cloak falling
back on her shoulders, disclosing a pale,
olive face, framed in by brown, wavy hair,
that crept, in little curling tendrils, against
the colorless cheeks, and seemed to earess
their loveliness.
As she reached the middle Of the
bridge, she loitered to look down to
the ripping water, and watch the flowers
sweep by on the laughing wavelets.
| The dawn that had frightened hours
before to such golden noon, was dying
away in twilight as she stood thers--a
silent, meek figure, with no least trace OF
pain or passion i'll her face.
Faultlessly beautiful, you might have
said, had your own endowments been Of
common kind, but an artists eyes would
have discovered something wanting there.
Sisson was awake, and the pulse of sum
mer was beating in her veins, but Janet
Drockie's soul was sleeping.
She was quite content to wander idly
through the fields; to do her share of the
house work; to eat her simple food, and
rest at night on the little bed under the
garrct roof, without care or anticipation
beyond each days simple duties and enjoy
ments.
But, like ghost through the shadowy
twilight, new day was approaching.
Through the half light, through the
clouds of perfume that rose from number
less blossoms, mid the blowing to and fro
of the low willow trees, mid the soft Sob
bing of the pines, that stood further back,
with light, laughing scrap of rhymed
melody on his lips came Jack Doran.
And meeting in the middle of the bridge,
he was fascinated and straightway capti-
waited by Janet's pale, sweet face.
He had been whole year abroad, with
out seeing face to move him from his
repose; but suddenly, in this out-of the
way little town of Sisson, his fate found
him.
Janet, too, who moment before had
the heart of child in her bosom, felt
herself waking to womanhood, and the
strangely opened door of her heart clos
ing again over the music of his voice.
"Pardon me-" the voice was saying,
"but am stranger in Sisson, and would
be directed to old Hugh Brockie'f
house."
She looked at him curiously, noting eacl
feature as he stood before her with hi
head uncovered - rings of black hail
against a bronze-brown face, each shadow
of which had been that of some strang,
sun and atmosphere; eyes of brightes
blue; firm, straight mouth under th'
, black moustache-and Janet's heart wa
won.
+ Hugh Brockie is my father" sh
began in clear, sweet voice, tina
somehow faltered little. "You ar
r a stranger, and will show you tn
: way
81 mean to stay at Sisson a month,
l. YOUR father can take me in," he said fol
= lowing her up the broken path, just touch
a ing her hand now and then, as some grea
a stone stood in the way, or fallen tire
= = obstructed their path, "and you must lie
me introduce myself. I am Jack Dorar
artist and idler, and you are Janet"
"How did you know ?" she asked, th
l. faintest hue of pink stealing to her cheek
VI at his look and tone.
. "The children told me So" he replied
laughing. 81 heard dozen of them BAY
as came down the bank of that brawlin
T. little stream, There's Ianet-pretty JAM
v that goes fishing for butterfies!" Pref
g Junet r' lie added, in different tone.
ssrhey call me thai because they lov
4 MI, :" she said, softly.
ii ''And about the butterflies
Y, "Oh, catch them in my net, and til
'e call it fishing" she replied, smiling as s
a met his glance again. can show y
r some rare kinds, If you care for them"
II delight in butterflies" he said, SIN
" ing back into her uplifted face. '"The
make me think Of the dancing flames O