The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1882-03-18

/ alone Seeing is believing, however.
/ With such heart as yours, | pity you
/ when your idol lies before you fallen
and shattered
And Ralph Emery looked with real
concern into the thoughtful face of his
| friend.
| An hour later, they were whizzing
| rapidly toward the country, where their
/ attention was arrested at a station by
| the entrance of lady. Grand Burch-
ard started Something reminded him of
| Amy Iudwick? There were brown eyes
and glossy curls, worn in the old, child
| ish fashion, but now they certainly were
old maidish and unbeconing. Her face
was pretty, still, but it lacked some
thing to make it interesting, and Grant
Burchard could not but acknowledge to
himself she was overdressed and unre-
fined in appearance. He instnctively
shrank from acknowledging to his friend
that this woman looked like the one he
had loved And though his eye caught
the name of "a. Ludwick' on her tray
cling bag, he shrank from renewing the
acquaintance, as he might have done by
a word. He was contrasting this unin-
teresting woman with the simple girl in
the sweet-brier glen, when an old man
entered and addressed her as ssMiss
Ludwick''
Ralph Emery now started and looked
into his friends face
"Ahi | remember the name, he ex-
claimed lis that the divinity of your
dreamsP''
Il fear it isl was the deprecating an
swer
Where have you been,' asked the
farmer.
''Been down to the city to do some
trading" was the answer.
Her voice was coarse and harsh, and
Ralph Emery smiled, but it was no smil-
ing matter to Grant Burchard, this de-
thronement of the beautiful idol he had
carried all these years.
Getting ready, s'poseP" queried
the farmer.
Ready for whatp'' asked Miss Lud-
wick, with blush and silly laugh.
you've concluded not to wait for the
chap that went away few years ago,
hear, and that young man coming to
your house every week don't mean any
thing, I s'pose," said the old man, with
an intelligent smile.
Il don't see it, was the quick reply,
as she tossed her head and simpered.
Grant Burchard groaned.
Success to the young man who
comes every weekr' said Ralph Emery,
fervently, 'tand YOU might as well say
Amen Grant, for think that last bit
of slang has cured you,
Verify Grant Burchard was in an I'M
enviable frame of mind. He was like one
who has reveled in delicious dream of
beauty, and awakes to a stern and
wretched reality. He was thinking it
all over as he lounged with his friend
upon the porch of the country-hotel,
where he stopped for the night, when
his reverie was put to fight by the fra
GRANGE of sweet-brier-a perfume that
always came to him laden with sweetest
memories.
The parlor was in shadow, but they
heard the floating sound of woman's
garments, and a sweet, low voice, chat
ting inteiligently with an elderly gentle
man. The conversation was of suffi-
Gent length to prove that this lady with
the starry blossoms of sweet-brier twined
in her hair was a woman of original
thought and rare cultivation. The old
man asked for music, and the lady
swept the piano keys with skillfu1 fing-
ers, and filed the room with rare,
sweet melody. As the last note died
away, and the soft garments fioated out,
Grant Burchard exclaimed:
MY Amy should have had q voice
like that
Ralph Emery thought of the harsh
and discordant tones in the rail-car, and
with a smile that made his companion
vince, quoted the slang phrase: Il don't
see it,
The next day, Grant Burchard and
his friend stood at the gate of the Lud-
wick homestead. 1t was a fine old
place, and the garden was pretty sight
with its rare and beautiful flowers ar
ranged with exquisite taste. Grant had
thought of his visit for years, when he
should come alone to claim Amy, but
now he was glad to bring his friend,
that no mention might be made OF
claims. A lady stood in the garden
path. She turned, and there were the
dark curls, brown eyes. and ungraceful
manner of the neutrality-suspicious. of
the previous day. Grant Burchard step
ped forward.
Good morning, Miss Ludwick.''
1t was sadly cold and changed from.
the fervent Amy he had always call
ed her in his thoughts.
Good morning, sirs,'' responded that
harsh voice, while a scared look came
into the brown eyes as she regarded the
istinguished-looking strangers. A min
ute more and she exclaimed enthusiast
ically:
why, Grant Burchard, if it amt
you! How glad I amir
And she gave him nearty-shake, and
poured forth a torrent Of questions as
she led him into the house, and went to
caH the family.
The gentleman glanced about the par
Tor. Everything was neat and beauti-
ful, and the careful disposition of books
and furniture betokened a cultivated
taste. The piano was open, and two
pair of critical eyes noted with surprise
the difficult piece of music standing on
the rack.
The faint perfume of sweet brier steal
ing in the open window, filled the room
with delightful aroma; and Grant
Burcbard smiled in spite of himself
this cosy place was SO like his imaginary
home for his ideal Amy.
A few minutes elapsed, and the smile
was gone. His dream died when the
maiden entered the room,
bringing old Mr.. Ludwick, who grasp
ed his hand with cordial tenderness,
and greeted him in hearty tones of wei
come
..WeI, Grant, do you think Amy
looks natural?'' inquired MIR. Ludwiek,