The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1888-05-19
Che SMtelliQetlter.
once Nos. 20 and 81 Fourteenth Street.
ROSAIIH.

Her name WIS mlsuOmtT' Gnu SuB
gested u pale white violet, rather than a
glowing, passionate rose. She grew
winter and more shadowy every day
that she stood behind the counter atthe
florists, and took orders, and made up
bouquets for customers. The hot-house
flowers, severed from their own source
of life, drew upon her for strength.
They sapped her vitality ruthlessly that
they might prolong their own exquisite
bloom to the utmost. She was the last
one to blame them. Were they not her
only companions, and could she not talk
out her queer conceits to them?
One day she overheard a lady say to
her companion, "Those flowers are liv-
ing on that girl. She won't stand it
long" II shocked her at first, then she
began to realize how cruel they really
were, and wondered what was to be-
come OF her II she had to give up the
situation. She could 60 back to sewing,
but oh how she hated it, and how she
dreaded the unsympathetic people with
whom it brought her in contact!
She was dreamy, dark-eyed little
thing, one would never guess she was
IS. Standing behind the counter she
looked as if she might be in short dress
es.. The people who came IN on her I'M
aware, and found her talking to the
flowers, used to call her "that queer
child ut the florists" and note that she
limped in walking, for Rosalie, some
years ago, had been injured by rum
away team, and the long sickness ut the
hospital, had left her pale and frail, and,
as Il that was not hard enough, her good
grandmother died, and she was left
alone in the world.
In spite OF her loneliness and lame
ness, Resale was brave little creature,
who made the best of everything. She
sat in her corner in the little restaurant
and ate her meals as daintily MS bird,
with an innocent amusement meanwhile
in being waited upon by the smiling,
boyish-faced waiter. Her attic room
was MS narrow rs prison cell, but it had
Il bit of lace before the window and
little white bed, and some prints on the
walls, and she slept at nights thankful
for the shelter, as She recalled faces she
had met OH the street with that awful
shadow OF sin and despair on them.
The rain still fell steadily, and the
scents of the flowers made her drowsy
and dreamy as she sat there. She closed
her eyes and went wandering into Astral
land. She was in beautiful dwelling
that seemed TO be her home. Sheglided
from room to room, and found herselfin
pretty chamber, with books and pic.
lures and marble Clytie, and broad
square of sunlight falling upon the deli
cate shades OF the carpet. She reached
out her hand to arrange the window
drapery, when the room vanished. She
was back to the florists. The white
dove suspended over the great lilies and
roses in the window seemed to expand
his wings and circle around the room
and ut last light upon her shoulder with
Il sprig OF heartease in its bill. Then it
began to sing, and her heart swelled with
gladness, and clear, sweet voices warbled
all around her.
She came back from Astral land with
n start and n shamed look TO be caught
mapping.
An imposing, handsome man Of per-
haps fifty, with silver.gray hair, had en-
tered and stood regarding her with kind,
grave eyes.
Dreaming among the flowers" he
said, with an indulgent smile. ~ don't
blame you, child"
Rosalie's face flushed slightly with |
pleasure. His voice was so kind, and
She did not resent the word "child"
from him rs she often did from Others.
Then, too, his face seemed familiar. Had
she seen him on earth or in Astral land?
"Will you make up u nice bouquet
and have it sent TO Leland square?" he
asked, us if soliciting favor. at is for
my daughter. Yes, tube roses and vio-
let's and plenty OF carnations, and mig
nonette, remember, she is very fond Of
that"
Rosalie tried again to recall the face as
he went out, but found that an unac.
countable little shiver seemed to attend
the effort. She made up the bouquet
with nimble fingers. The violets twink
led Mt her knowingly. The roses nodded
its notified heads together, and whis-
pered.
"For his daughter" he had said.
"Was she a young girl like herself?
Was she pretty? Leland square, yes. OF
course she lives in nice house and had
handsome clothes. But such grand,
noble looking father to love her was the
best OF ALL" Rosalie thought wistfully.
She had no one to love her since granny
died, no parents or brother or sister,
and it must be so sweet to be loved,
81 wonder, wonder il she is as good
as he isl" she unused, remembering how
the daintily kept children of wealth
had often turned upon her the cold
shoulder.
A queer original thought was darting
in and out of her busy brain; "Dare
do it?" she questioned softly. "Will
they laugh Mt me? Will they think me
bold? Oh, l wish had thecouragew
She placed the boquet in its bed OF
damp moss, then took piece OF paper,
and sat, pen in hand, thinking. She
wrote, copied and recopied some sem
fences, folded the paper, and slipped it
between the roses and violets OF the
bouquet. Then she covered it with
white paper and tied up the box with
trembling fingers.
An hour later Dick had delivered it ut
Leland square, "See, mamma,
see what dot in the boquet danpa
sent! Alice little 'etter?"
"Let me see it, DEAR" said a soft,
sweet voice.
The child danced over the carpet with
the folded paper.
mourning, uniolded Rosalie's note and
read: