Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1884-08-20
ONLY swEETH EARTs.

"0h. lore for lreek, year, q ddy,
But alas for the lore that LOUeS dliCdy'''
mans rich tenor voice is singing, his
heart in the song, as though he is feel
ing the bitter truth of the sentiment
expressed therein. A goodly-looking
young fellow he is, standing erect be-
fore the piano.
\ girl is playing the accompaniment
for him. looking as if ''Sweethearts"
conveyed a good deal to her too. She
is well and fashionably dressed, and
wears her hair rolled away in a small
knot at the back of her smooth shapely
head. \ few locks stray naturally, or
possibly artifcially, about her temples.
They look happy enough, these two
young people, singing their love-songs
with DO shadow to darken their lives.
By-and-by perhaps, when they have
lived and loved a score of years longer,
they NAV look like the proud sad face
framed in the white smooth hair-the
face Of Miss VerSchoyle, who is sitting
I'm the window, her hands in her lap,
listening TO the song.
An old lady to look sad over a love-
sOngl But so it is. As the words GO
on, a Sadder expression creeps into her
syes-lOvely dark blue eyes that must
have been things of beauty" once.
Her proud lips are closed tightly now
. as her gaze wanders away over lawn and
garden. But Miss VerSchoyle sees
neither the pair of lovers at the piano,
nor the tenmiS-players, nor the flaming
geTaDiumS and calceOlarias under the
windows. She is looking far, far away
back into her own life, to the time
when she was considered the beauty of
the whole countryside. As the song
walls out
"Alds for the lore that loUes al,rdyr'
she recalls a vision which Is as reality
In its intensity.
An old, old garden shut In by high
Ted-brick walls, where choice fruits
hang ripening in lavish plenty in the
blazing summer sun, noble profusiOn,
that, Ike many o.her things, seems TO
have died out in these days of rush and
hurry. Up against the blue sky stands
an old gray house that has faced sum-
meT sun and winter storms for many
and many long year. Generation after
generation has lived and died within
those hOaTy walls.
In the rose garden, the fairest rose of
all, Dorothy VerschOSle stands, her
hands full of the fragrant flowers, her
lovely face bent so that sue may inhale
their sweet odOrs. She is all alone
there Is not sound but the splaShing
of the water in a marble fountain. All
around her are roses-roseS hanging
from arches and poles, tossing their
branches in the warm air and scattering
their petals on the grass and all over
Dorothy Verschoyle, as she stands in
the TOScry in the glowing careSSes OF
the setting sun.
Yet straight and quick through the
roses some one Is coming even now, and
over DOrOthy's face sudden flush that
dies away as quickly and leaves her
smiling and calm, as she holds out
white cool hand to greet the newcomer.
He holds it perhaps lenger than neces-
Sary, his eyes on her face; and then
they stroll away among the flowers and
into the shady labyrinth of sombre yews
beyond. In silence they walk at first
and then Dorothy looks from under her
long laShes with a Saucy smile up into
the face of the man at her side.
'Well, 5" she says, smiling and sweet,
shave you nothing to say, Paul 7"
He is her cousin /; but his name seems
to come almost reluctantly from her
lips. He notices it perhaps, as 1t falls
hngeringly and sweetly.
81 never like my name so well as
when you say it, he whispers, looking
down at the girlish figure in the f1eecY
white dress,
But Dorothy laughs a light-hearted
little laugh.
Somebody else told me that before
to-day" she says, smiling up at him
prOyOkingly.
WHO pa jealous light Ieaping
into his eyes, at which she laughs again
and bends her head over the roses.
''Guess r' she says. ''Oh, Paul, how
cross you look ~ And this time his
name slips naturally and easily from
her lips.
WAS it, he asks-and there is no
pleasant smile on his faee-''waS it Sir
Percival ?''
Perhaps it was, and perhaps it
waSn'J,' is the saucy answer; and Paul
gnaws his mustacho in sulky indlgna-
tiOA-
'Was he here long ?n be asks.
Il didn't say he was here at all, 2"
laughs Dorothy, raising smiling blue
eyes to meet the passion in his. But
he was, though, and he remained for
four hOurs.'
Alone with you ?n
"Yes, alone with me. lsthat such a
penance, Paul ?''-the wilful voice
softening little.
He laughs a loud mirthleSs laugh
that does not affect his listener III the
least,
"A penancal Oh, dear, mol l should
think he found it very pleasant, and
doubtless so did you"
''Oh, YES - she aSsents careleSsly.
"We were in the summer-house. and
wehad strawberries and cream there /;
it was very pleasant indeed. and L wish
1t was all going to begin over again."
In spite of his Jealous passion, a
sudden tenderness trembleS IN MS
voice.
Dorothy, couldn't you and l sit In
the summer-house and"
"Have strawberries and cream Of
course we can: but L don't want any
more Strawberries to-day. Will have
more to morrow"
when Sir Percival comes 2"
Yes when Sir PercIval comes"
"Dorotly''-and for one second the
saucy smile dies out of her blue eyes
his voice is low and intense with feeung