Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1881-06-16

of flowers"
l was upstairs dressing for dinner,
and wondering somewhat at the trou-
Bile Helen took to make me look my
best, but she laughed, saying, as she
fastened a lovely bunch of lilly Of the
waller in my. hair
ut is all in honor of old Mr..
Broughton, dear"
Then, hearing the trap driving up
the avenue, she raa off to welcome
the visitor; and, soon following her, l
found them all assembled in the draw
ing room, and Was Immediately intro
duced by Helen to Mr.. Broughton,
who, to my utter astonishment, was
neither old nor ugly, but decidedly
the reverse. la utter bewilderment
l looked at him, while | felt my face
growing crimson with confusion. Mr..
Broughton was tall broad-shouldered
and certainly not more than thirty
years of age, with kind, open face,
and pleasant brown eyes that con-
trasted forcibly with his fair hair and
msustache- handsome 40 far as
regularity Of features went, but alto
gether brave and mauly.looking, a
nan who one instinctively felt was to
be honored and trusted. Such was
my first impression Of Harold Brough-
ton as, in the awkward pause that
followed, | looked up into his face,
and then turned to Helen and her
husband, who both seemed highly
amused.
The little mystery was soon ex-
planned amidst much laughter. There
was no "old Mr.. Broughton;" it was
all helen fun, who seemed more than
delighted at the success Of Ter little
plot. The laugh however broke the
ice OF formality between US, and wo
soon got on capitally together. Dear
Helen, always so bright and merry
and yet SO sweet and loving-no Won
der her husband idolizsd and almost
vorshiped his wild IRISH rose, as he
called his pretty golden-hared wife,
with her laughing blue eyes and sun
ny smile
"Tom," she would say clasping
both white hands on his arm, now
confess. would you ever have thought
of the wild, mischievous Helen Nc
Dermot if she had not led you that
madcap race over the downs, and you
had been sure | was run away with
and pictured me at the foot of chalk
cliff, or something equally terrible?
All, you little thought | could make
Princess answer whip and bride SO
we'll ~
And Tom would look down, with
love in his eyes and voice, and assure
her that his mind had been made up,
his heart irrevocably lost, from the
moment be had met tie first glance
of her blue eyes, and that the memor-
able race in the breezy downs on y
brought matters to crlsis--that Was
all
But l find myself wandering from
my ow story, and more inclined tc
write about my dear sister Helen
Perhaps it is that hesitate to commit
to paper a record Of those sunny, nap
pv days that | can think of now only
through mist OF binding tears
while the happiness seemed blurred
and indistinct from all the misery
that came after.
What need is there to tell again the
dear old time-worn story which has
been write so often in poetry and
prose, and is being enacted in reaI
life every day? 1t is enough for me
to say that after SIX Of the happest
weeks of my life, Harold Broughtor
asked me to be his wife.
l was sitting at the open drawing.
room window listening to Helen
clear, sweet voice singing, and think
ing, as she sang Of the hopeless grie
and sorrow, how very far off and dis.
tant all trouble seemed to be, and thai
life ana love had not always dark
background ofangry storm-clouls tc
creep up and blot out the blue sky.
The gentlemen were pacing up anc
down the terrace, talking earnestly
Tom was smoking, and the scent o
his cigar hoated in pleasantly at the
open window as they passed back
wards and forwards. Then, as th'
evening shadows deopened, they paus