The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1879-10-09

midsummer, and not one word had
Adrian heard from the lips of his Rose,
and letter after letter had been returned
to him unopened. But his ardor was
unchanged; his love burned with the
same white flame, although there were
only smiles and chances to feed the fire.
And now at last the college life was
drawing to close, and Adrian was the
class poet. Perhaps his passion had
warmed genius into life; there had
never been such poem uttered there
before; but no other poet had had those
tender, yearning eyes before him with
the tears suspended in them, that face
so like a flower in the fresh dew. "More
organ-grinding," growled the Professor.
The lovers met in the press, for one
instant, not long afterward, as that por-
ton of the exercises ended. And when
he had left her side great bunch of
red roses was in her hand, the most de-
licious dewy roses, whose perfume swept
around her like an atmosphere. But the
Professor had relieved guard. His lynx
eye caught sight of a white CLEAN among
the roses. He took them suddenly out
of her hand, distracted a little note,
and gave the flowers back to her. Then
he slipped the note into his coat pocket.
1t is pity the Professor did not read
that note before next day. This is what
was written there:
MY ROsE:-If your affection for me is all
it was, is all that my adoring love for you
would claim, you will hold these roses in
your hand tonight as you enter the recep-
-
course OF the night, when the band is play
ing the LANDER waltz, or when it is playing
Little Buttercup," you lift these sweet red
roses to your sweeter face, and bury your
face there for one long moment, shall know
that you can no longer endure this tyranny
that parts us. Ny horses will await us at
the gate, and when you are my wife,
neither Professor, nor uncle, nor any
one on earth can part what God has joined
together.
But he didn't read it. There was not
the moment just then; somebody or
something occupied his time exclusively;
and when he might have read it, he had
changed his coat, and could not find it.
Being little lame, and feeling obliged
to attend the reception of the College
President, unwilling to lose moment
of his watch, which he could not easily
delegate, he ordered carriage and pair
to take him to old Rex's gate, and
stumped up the stair with his precious
prize before him.
Was ever any thing lovelier than this
vision in the doorway, with the shaggy
old Professor Redmond behind herp So
ethereally fair-the cOrn-silk hair, the
eyes like starry duets: it was the i'm.
PRESERVATION of girlhood and of inno-
cence. With a huge cluster of creamy
white roses pinned in her belt just over
her heart, in their center red one
blooming like the live sweet secret
thought beating in the heart beneath,
and in her old pearl-colOred draperies,
she would have seemed ready to melt
back into the outer twilight world, like
the spirit of the evening star itself, but
for the great bunch of red Jacqueminot
roses in her hand. What did she know
of her lovers wish? Nothing. He had
given these roses to her; he would be
here; of course she wore his flowers.
The old President Rex had as good
an eye for beauty as any undergraduate
of them all; and although the young
class-day poet was receiving an ovation,
he left him in order to welcome this
perfect creature who had just come to
his parlors out of fairy-land
just then the band was softly playing
the LANDER waltzes; old Rex was over
powering her with his fiattering speech;
the music was enchanting; there stood
Adrian before with his eyes shining full
upon her, although across the room
she could not bear it all. Absently she
lifted that bunch of roses, and buried her
face in all that blaze of color and de-
lirium of fragrance.
"Jacqueminot roses" said the gal
liant old Rex in way that would have
made a student shudder. "But the
Madame Blanche look more like YOU
At that moment Adrian slipped from
the room. She looked for him present
ly, but he was gone. And although they
staid but an hour, it seemed to her an
endless period before she stood at last
upon the step in the dark and perfumed
night, with the wretched tears
OF disappointment getting leave to over
flow upon the roses that she held so near
her face. Her uncle came limping along
behind her. professor Redmond's
called a servant.
"Here!" shouted a reply. Then
hand was helping her up the step,
whip was cracking, horses were plung-
ing, her uncle was yelling into the uni
verse, Abrams arms were about her,
she was resting on his breast, and they
were dashing madly away. "You are
here, you are mine,'' he was murmuring
between his kisses, "never to leave me
again. You exchange one jailer for an
others.''
Before she well knew what had hap
pened, what it meant, she was standing
in clergyman's study; papers of some
sort were being scanned; a kind, silver
haired lady was giving her glass of
water; words were being hurriedly ut
tered, to which if she replied she did not
know it. Somebody. put into her hand
. little slip that he called a marriage
certificate; somebody spoke to her by
another name-Adrian's name; the
xind lady kissed her, and she was out in
he dark, sweet summer night again
vas in the carriage whirling away, and
Adrian was holding her, and calling her
MS wife. Ia
care we married." she gasped. Gam