The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-09-17

MARY .4in0e De Vere.
Fl P]oT-PoURRI.
1t was just after the roses had done
blowing. They were all sitting by twi-
light in the yellow drawing-room-
somehow it always seemed twilight
longer there when it was dark every
where else-and Rosamond got up and
stirred her pot-pouri in the old claret-
colored Chelsea jar between the win
dows; and such a sweet faint odor OF
rose leaves stole through the room that
the old people felt as if they were young
and the time was June again.
1T is too powerful" said Miss Ehing-
liam, waving her big peacock-feather
fan.
TOO POWERFUL" said Mrs. Penn,
putting away the silver curl that The
neighboring fan brushed into her still
soft brown eyes. mot for me. Moth
ing is 50 pleasant to me as the pot-pourri,
and in the old jar, too. 1t is not the
rose, but it is the memory of the rose.
1t brings back all my youth. And al
though age is pleasant enough as it
ome to me, yet youth was so very
sweet, my DEAR" and the silver voice
paused, while a slender hand went
searching through the purple gloom for
another old hand, and found 1.-THE
hand of the speakers husband. people
think it so sad to grow DID," she said.
But every year has been to me like an
other step on an upward path to para
disc. Ones wings are growing all the
way. And one has so much to remem-
Der, to look back on when one pauses,
to see in new lights. Do you suppose
that either Of us would change places
with Rosamond and Beltran there, who
have life before them.
Not l." said the voice that re-
sponded.
Mot that you would not be glad to
live your seventy summers over again,
Paul?" .
Il am sure of them now, at any rate"
said the husband. II have them.
Nothing can take them away from u.s."
And we ask nothing more" she said,
than to be laid in the same grave when
the long night comes"
And the endless morning." he muir
INJURED.
And even that endless morning can
hardly be brighter than some of the
mornings of our youth-than the morn
ing when we first made the pot-pourri,
Paul. You remember that morning,
Paul?" -.
do you remember it, Aunt Persist"
asked Rosamond.
Shall 1 ever forget it?" she said, with
low sweet laugh. why, when I am
dead, remembrance of that morning will
bloom out Of my grave like 4 flower!
And yet it was much such a morning as
any day last month-only so glorious, so
gildcd, so full of sunshine! But what a
gray and lowering, showering dawn it
lad! If We had never had that little
quarrel, Paul. All! I was so sad when
| parted the curtains that daybreak. |
Thoughts I was done with life-and it
was a PITY so young"
Here Rosamond pinched Beltran's arm.
so young. And might have been so
blessed" said her old aunt Persis. III
l gave, that morning. just the swiftest
glance across that garden to Paul's win
dow. and saw that he sat there over his
book. he could not tell. And then ]
dressed me; and I thought of some girl
being dressed for her grave. And then l
pinned up my white frock-a Ia laveuSe,
you call it now. Rosamond-and went
down to the rose garden to pick the flow
or with the dew on them for the pot
pourri that grandmamma had hidden me
never to forget in the time of roses"
oct was the time OF roses,
We plucked them as we went"
sang Beltran, half under his breath.
And I plucked them till the basket on
my arm was heaped. The rose garden
was just as it is to-day. on a terrace
higher than the rest Of the garden. And
lcn I turned about | saw Paul had
come down, and was walking in the pop
lar alley of his grandfather's garden,
bare-headed, with his hands behind him
and his head fallen on his breast. All,
lfow beautiful he was! so tall, so dark,
so like 4 fallen star. And | loved him
go; and we had quarrelcd. l had been
miserable Just forty eight hours 1t
seemed to me that I had never been
happy. I had lost my youth; Twas old
I had come into the shadow. There was
another young girl" she said, after 4 mo-
ment's pause. as if ever the sorrows OF
youth had their sweetness that it was
GOOD now TO remember. that Pauls
Grandfather had chosen for him to marry
may speak about it now, l suppose
The long since ceased to care; she was
size is, my nearest friend, and Paul has
always loved her rs Il brother. She has
had many suitors since: with one O.
them she plighted faith, and so she ha:
kept her tryst with death. But Il
thought that because I adored Paul, al
the world was at his feet; and when hi!
grandfather said this other was to be hi
choice, with her great fortune ut com
mand. and l remembered that l hat
only this old house and its belonging
for my own fortune. why, then looked
well after my lover. Yes, ne was m,
lover. | had felt sure Of that, although
l.c had never said so, never exactl.
said so in words; but we do not Away
need words. And now, all Mt once, a
in Il twinkling, as If the sun had gon
out ut noon. he was the lover of anothe
cirl. And 1 could not have believed o
dreamed that the fortune would hav
made any difference with Paul, or tn
grandfather's wish, or heavens thunder
bolts even, before I saw it for myself
/ saw it myself. I saw him 60 and turl
the music rs she played upon the harp
and bend over it with the color on hi
cheek and an angry fire in his eye whe'
the eye fell askance or me-: l saw hin
iii herfrom her saddle ut her gate. jus
down the street, and 60 in with ne
and stay till. an hour afterward, a groom
came and led the horses off. l saw hin
lettering with her in the lane, but the
did not know I saw. and l heard nj
miserable old grandfather come hob
bling up our steps, rubbing his har
hands and talking to my father OF Paul
lucsy hit. And so ] knew that he ha'
forsaken meme, the child that la
wor.hiped him from the cradle
Am, I meant to die as soon as
couid: but in the meantime, II it kille
me itself to hide it, they should neVe
know / cared. Yet I was not angry
in some way, some strange way, u wa
Paul who was angry, who would no
sneak to me, would not glance at me
oP - ooYoo npqr me. said S12r