The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1882-07-14

for her address or Marian's.
/ tried to repair this omission the next
morning by visiting all the hotels and
examining their registers. The only
result was the assurance that the whole
party had left Berlin hat morning.
But the fates favored me. | dropped
into a nice legacy, quite sufficient for
the wants of a family of modest tastes,
and 1 determined to go to England
home! 1t wa a year since l had met
Mrs. Hill in Germany. Was Marian
still in LondonP My little sweetheart!
Strange she had fingered always in my.
memory as the ideal woman of my
bachelor fancy!
/ determined to return at once and
accept a long-standing invitation to visit
my friend, Lord Loringer, at his place,
Loringer Hall. l met with a most cor
dial welcome, and, arriving just before
dinner-hour, Lord Loringer hurried his
own preparations, and came into the
room assigned to me.
"What good wind" he exclaimed,
"blew you into Englandp"
l told him of my legacy, my resigna-
ton of my position, and of my return
home.
''But you are absolutely your own
master for the PRESENT." he asked.
Eyes. Nobody expects me at home,
as / was returning on that most idiotic
principles surprise"
''Join us, then! We all start next
week for a jaunt through France, Spain,
Italy, perhaps up the Nile. We are not
bound by any route, by any promises.
We start a party of fourteen, every body
at leave if he prefers another route
We are to be joined by another party
in Paris, Mr.. and Mrs. Inglewood, DR..
Smith, and a Miss Marian Temple, who
will probably prove the bore of the
party"
"Why"
30, she is an old maid, a blue-stock-
ing, and a poet. l forgave her her novel,
Irmine'; but deliver me from a woman
who writes verses and calls them Water
lilies.'"
'.Now / should enjoy all the pleasures
of novelty injecting her." l exclaimed.
II have not one old maid on my visit
ing list, and / never had an hours con-
versation with q novelist-or is it q nov
elistessp You don't happen to have her
books about you, do youP'
"You will find them on the library
table, unless some one is reading them.
There are several copies about, as most
of our guests brought them"
l found them, as promised, on the il
brary table, and after l got to my own
room l opened the poems. The more 1
read, the more l was convinced that no
old maid penned them. They were full
of the fire, the genius, ever the faults of
youth, and some of them L seemed to
have written myself. The leading one,
''Water-lilies," brought back to me the
lake where May and 1 had tloated upon
the transparent water, gathering the
great, white, snowy treasures in profu-
sion. l saw her sweet face dip into a
great heap upon the floor of the boat
and come up laughing, far sweeter than
the most glorious blossoms there. Then
/ saw her in the soft white evening dress,
with the lilies trailing from her soft
curls upon her pretty dimpled childish
shoulders, dancing gleefully, the only lit
tie girl in the room, and with an admirer
wearing a moustache-her devoted adj
mirer.
And here it was all in musical verse,
with a refrain of regret for the child love
gone forever.
1t was far into the night when / slept,
with the volume of ''Water-lilies" tuck
ed under my pillow, and at the first day
light l was picking out once more little
scraps of memory-a drive we took to
Marian's Falls, which Marian gravely
assured me were named ''years and
years. before she was born; a walk we
took, when | tucked up her curls in wo-
manish fashion, and twisted in sweet
hrier, being piteously ~reproached a few
hours later with making her ''pull every
hair out with those horrid thorns;" a
ride we took to Silver grove, where we
pledged mutual faith and love in cups
of lilies, and vowed eternal constancy.
Page after page brought my sweetheart
to me. till I reached out my locket frnn
my d~espatch-box, and put it round my
neck, ready for any emergency-ready
to swear with as much truth as most
VOW that it had never left my
heart since her white hands first placed
my treasure round my neck.
y
To Paris. We were en- route at last.
I knew my darling's verses by heart. l
had read her novel twice, dreadfully dis
both times by the fact that the
heroine who had brown eyes and gold
EN- hair married a hero who bore not the
faintest resemblance to me.
The party had engaged rooms for us
at the hotel they were staying at, and
one general drawing-room was to serve
the entire party. Here, after making
my dress an object of the most especial
study, / went on the wings of love.
A lady stood by the window looking
out, and / went forward timidly. She
be one of our party, or she would
not be there. Her dress-a Partisan
marvel of taste and simpficity-was that
of u .jeane file; her figure was tall,
graceful, and slender, and her golden
hair was dressed with all the modern
nominations; but she never stirred or
turned until / stood close beside her,
when she turned her full face to me-
My dariing'sface, with all the little baby
curls on her forehead, all the sweet in
nocence in the big brown eyes. 1t ut
tcrly unnamed me. For a moment L