The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-06-17

elAiN tIOuDicS- fPDO
None, | should say. They toll not,
neither do they spin, you know
The people who toll and spin are not
the only ones who are unhappy in the
world said Fleurette softly.
Nor are the Water-liiies theonly flow
ers that shut up their hearts, and only
open them after great persuasion"
She placed one of the white stars in
her dark hair, and said:
We are getting quite poetical this
afternoon. Was that a kingfisher flew
by?'
OF course it was no more kingfisher
than it was an ostrich; and as Fleurette
was now my prisoner in mid-stream,
was not going to let her escape or eyade
my questions for any bird that flew.
steadied the boat with an occasional
dip of the oars, and looking her full in
the face, asked:
"Fleurette, why do you treat John so
strangelyP"
Her eyes dropped,
I scarcely understand you" she said
You understand fully. Why did you
refuse to marry himy'
/ might plead woman's privilege.
If we cannot choose, we can at least de-
cline to be the choice of any particular
man."
You might plead it if you did not
love him; but you Will not plead it,
Fleurette. 1t is because L know YOU
love him that | ask you for an answer
to my question"
Her fingers toyed nervously with her
| lilies, but she said nothing
If | thought you did not care for
him-if you can tell me sony question
is answered, and l am satisfied. An
swer me, Fleurette."
She raised her head, and | saw her
| brave brown eyes shining through her
tears.
The proudest day in my life was
when John Penn asked me TO be
his wife-the happiest day would be the
day married him, and that will be-
never"
Never, Fleurette?"
"Never-never-nev Unless"
Here the girl gave a sort of shudder
and covered her eyes with her hands.
Tell me what obstacle there can be,
| said gently.
Il cannot. 1 will not. If L could not
| tell John, why should | tell you?"
" our mother is great invalid. is she
noty" l asked, after pause.
Yes" replied Fleurette.
| Us it possible you fear that John
| would wish you to leave her? Is that
the reason, Fleurette?"
L will tell you nothing" she said
firmly. Put me ashore. please"
tI well. MISS ItlItllt. SdlU.
resting on my oars. Then l give you
| fair warning, | shall never cease until l
| find out everything"
| The girls face flushed with anger.
| What right have you" she cried, ito
| attempt to pry into my private life? l
hate you! Put me ashore at once"
Fleurette not only had a will, but a
| temper of her own.
Il will not" l said. until YOU give
me some message l can take to john
some word that viii let him live on
hope, at least"
! viii you put me ashore?" said Fleu-
rette stamping her foot.
My only answer was a stroke of the
oars, which sent the boat some yards
! further up the stream.
Then shall go myself" said Fleu-
rette; and before | could comprehend
her meaning, she simply slipped over
board, and in couple of seconds was
standing on the river-bank, with the
water dripping from herpetticoats She
darted across the meadow without even
looking back, and left me feeling SUI
| premely ridiculous. The river was
| scarcely knee-deep at this point so she
ran no risk of drowning, and only suf-
| fered the inconvenience of wet shoes
and skirts; but | could not divest my
self of the idea that had there been six
feet of water there, the beautiful little
vixen would have gone overheard just
the same. | had been completely out
| witted by a girl of twenty-but then no
one could have imagined that young
lady of the present day, attired in an
elegant walking-dress, would jump out
Of boat to avoid his society, however
angry she might be. Yet | felt very
foolish as / drifted back to Daleburv.
and doubted much if l had done Johns
cause any good.
A -ai1 I
ed tact and diplomacy only pass muster
in the community of New Durham, and
| shall be afailure in England. L had
better take the first steamer and go
back again"
l met Fleurette in the road next morn
ing. Her face wore demure smile.
You treated me shamefully," | said.
Il should be the one to complain,
think. The idea of attempting to keep
me against my will! My boots were
spoiled; | was made most uncomfort-
able, and had to explain my draggled
appearance as best | could"
"But fancy my horror when you step
ped out of the boat, and picture what
fool have felt ever sincel Neverthe-
less, forgive you," | said magnani-
mously.
And L forgive you," said Fleurette,
with deep meaning in her voice.
So we shook hands and renewed our
compact of friendship.
had now been at Dalebury nearly a
| month, and purposed, while / had time
to spare, to make little trip to the
| Continent. | intended to stay there two
months, then return and begin work.
A few DAYS before | left Dalebury, /
| heard that some one was i'll at the house
at the corner: and, with the remem-
| brance of Fleurette's wet shoes and
stockings before me, | was very uneasy.
However. we soon ascertained that Mrs.
Dorvaux was the sufferer, and that DIR.
Bush, from the other end of the town.
had been called in. | knew this was
very annoying to John, as DIR. Bush and
he were not the best of friends. In his
professional capacity John would, be-
lieve, have attended Fleurette herself
without show of emotion; so why not
Fleurette's mother? Nothing of course,
could be said, as we live in a free coun-
try, and people may employ what doc
tor they choose.
Evidently Mrs. Dorvaux's illness was
not of long duration, for [ soon saw
Fleurette about again. She looked pale
and worn, probably from watching and
, nursing her mother. My holiday at
Dalebury had now run down to its last
dregs. so when we met ii was to say
goodbye.
Can it never be. Fleurette?" l whis-
| HClCl- do Jul 4AeiiAAAS NAftS Sbto PoA
ing:
Never" she replied-@never. Good
, bye-good-b
Poor old John, poor little Fleurette,
| What mystery was it that stayed the
happiness of these two?
/ returned home from my travels,
! tired of idleness. Having heard of an
opening that promised well, ran down
to DalebuTy to consult my brother.
1 Iahra and / had c0I-r3SrAn6-
ents. so / had no news of the little town
since L sojourned there. As / passed
the house at the corner | saw it was
| void.
They have left" said John, as eager
ly asked the reason.
Left Where have they gone toy'
~No one knows" said John, sadly.
/ shortly after you went abroad, com
mon rumor said they were thinking of
quitting; and last month they did go"
did she leave no word-no message
! for your"
,, ~Only this replied John. opening a
drawer in front of him, in which he
kept variety of cheeTful-looking in
struments. L found this one morning
ON the seat of my carriage / suppose
she threw it in.n
A single flower, the stem passed
, through piece of paper with the word,
l @Adieu" penciled on it.
Sorry as | was to hear the news. ]
could scarcely help smiling as John re-
placed the flower in the drawer. II
Z seemed almost pathos. that little rose,
| tossed into doctors carriage, and now
{ lying among old lancets, forceps and
other surgical instruments.
The weeks. the months. even the
years, passed by, and we heard nothing
!, of Fleurette. The flower, doubtless still
| lying in the drawer was all that was