The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1883-02-21
heart and left its reflection on his


mobile face.
"Don't, pray," exclaimed Trelawn-
ev, affecting alarm at Norton's out
burst against the sex; don't take
everything in earnest, there's good
fellow, and don't blame Miss Roy
for being butterfly, for it's rather
a charming characteristic to me-"
''very probably" observed Nor
ton.
''On which account | am on the
point of asking hef to become Mrs.
Trelawney," pursued his companion,
bending his head sidewise, the better
to touch up a pair Of Psyche wings
with which he was ombellishing his
subject.
1t was well for Allan Norton's
closely guarded secret that he had a
patients call that moment in the
front office, into which he slipped,
leaving the artist still celebrating
his work.
Bob was a dilettanti trifier with
the artist, and finding Norton likely
to be detained somk time, he turned
his attention to rhyming on the fair
subject of his pencil, taking her name
as key note.
1t seemed the easiest thing pos
sible, and he meant to make it
rather a bright one, too; but things
do not always turn ont rs expected,
and the result was the following
doggerel, written beneath lovely
female figure with Psyche wings,
surrounded by bubbles, and floating
through ether in a ear drawn by but
terfiies:
sunlit eyes that dance with JOY,
Melt in languor, then grow coy:
Shine like gold without alloy,
Such thy orbs, sweet Barbara Roy
Hair that glitters to decoy
With its silken locks to toy.
Bright as those of Venus boy,
Such thy tresses, Barbara Roy.
Lips! what words can employ
To express the ravished joy
Rapture that can never cloy-
Dare | express them, Barbara Roy
"Ah," cried Trelawney, charmed
with the picture his fancy evoked,
and tired of the effort of humping
his brain for rhyming. "ah, that
would indeed be an unutterable
bliss; but the deuce of it is, she
holds everybody at arms length,
though I've sometimes fancied she
thought of some unknown one with
a hidden sigh"
Here he sighed vacantly himself,
and presently discovering bored
sensation, he rose and after lounging
about the room for 3 few moments,
called through to the office
'Good night, Norton. I'll drop in
again, soon"
Then he took his departure in his
usual careless, good humored way.
running over in his mind the most
attractive place to which he could
turn his attention next.
1t was midnight and long after
when Allan returned to the rest and
quiet of his inner sanctum. His
head was weary and his heart ached
heavily; the last two hours had
been spent beside the bed of a dying
girl, poor ,consumptive wreck of
what had once been a society beau
ty, and her nervous dread of the in.
evitable change before her filled his
heart with intense pity for her, and
her struggle against the Great Van
quisher. At her request he had,
with disguised reluctance, undertak-
en- to convey a message TO her form
er school fellow and late acquaint :
ance-in short, to none other than
the beautiful Barbara.
ASK her to come and see me to-
morrow" she had begged most
pleadingly. Il have something to
say to her; promise me, o, l i'm
plore you, promise you wilt"
And SO Allan promised, though
he thought the morrow's sun would
meyer rise again for her; and dwell
ing on it now, his heart grew still
heavier.
At last, as he sat musing very,
very sadly, he drew the nearest sheet
of paper toward him, and, thinking
more than looking, began to write :
Mss Barbara Boy:
My DEAR CoUsIN-I was called
this evening in consultation on the
case of Miss Clara Bell. Sne is dy-
ing, and desires to see you. She
usged me most earnestly to deliver
this message that | was unable to
refuse. You will please bear in
mind that | had no choice.
Yours, very truly
ALLAN NORTON.
No one who did not understand
the intensity of Or. Norton's regard
for his distant cousin, could explain
the nervous haste with which he
threw this formal note into its envel-
ope.
He took it out again to date it,
and saw by the mantle clock that it
was past one.
February a." he wrote, and with
a queer sensation, remembered that
it was St. Valentines day.
"A dismal valentine" he thought,
but he never dreamed Of the verses
and drawing on the under side of
the sheet.
Penciling a direction on a sheet of
paper for his servant to carry the
note to its address the first thing in
the morning, the tired doctor retired
for the night, and, as the gray light
of a wintry morn shown through
his window ere sleep came to his
pillow, it may be supposed that he
thought much of the radient and
careless creature who was wasting
her existence in the worthless search
of pleasure, and the skadowy out
line of what had once been a votary
of fashion, but who now found her
self, like one of the foolish Virgins,
with no oil in her lamp, while the
cry had already gone forth:
THE Bridegroom Cometh J"
Something strange happened that
Valentines day.
Poor Laura Bell died quite peace
fully and hopefully the following
dav. hut IL Was not that which