The Monmouth inquirer., 1889-05-09

crasies; it's rich perfume was the fitting
aroma of her imperial nature; it bore
itself as the princely gonfalon of the
hosts of her heart and head; under such
an ensign did already wish to enlist
thought with smile, that. though Miss
! Clare was not blonde, yet would like
! to follow her standard.
"You like flowers, I suppose, Mrs.
Jordan, said to my hostess, as stood
over the blossom, inhaling with epi-
curean breaths its incompatible richness.
Eyes, well enough. But Inever should
think of fussing about that thing as Miss
Glare does. She brought it away from
home with her, and has taken the great
est care of it ever since"
'sThen this is not her home" | re-
marked indifferently.
ooh, no; she only boards here for a
WHILE"
Mrs. Jordan is right" spoke Miss
Clare's tuneful voice from the doorway.
81 am here as long as wish to stay. My
home is in Boston"
Was it her particular province to dis
compose and confuse me? If it had been,
she could not have succeeded more en-
tirely.
looked down at the girls eyes and
said:
"You have discovered that am inter-
ested in YOU
81 have discovered that ycu experience
a feeling, which, if you were woman,
l should surely call curiosity" she an
swered, advancing toward me and stop,
ping by her plant, fondling it with
dainty fingers
Il don't like to have you call the feel
ing by that name," said, with an air
that implied that she could awaken
stronger sensation than mere curiosity.
! found that every such gallant at
tempt was lost upon her.
She looked up in my face and indif-
ferently asked:
''Why not? Does the imputation
wound your dignity"
noted that, now that the pupils were
contracted, her eyes were hazel gray. l
replied to her Yankee directness by an
indistinct murmur for in truth did not
know what to say. Then remarked:
"Your heliotrope is getting too large
for this pot; you must transplant it,
unless you want it to blossom itself to
DEATH
eyes, it was for this pet of mine that
was wounded this morning; l am going
to put it in q box tomorrow. 1t will
flourish greenly and bless me with sweet
ness in return for my love. 1t is not
human at all, Mr.. Perrom.
"You are too young to be a cynic,' I
said, secretly glad of this remark she had
volunteered, and astonished at myself
that / was so glad.
sit is not years that make a cynic,"
was the reply; sit is life, and there is SO
much of life sometimes in a day."
did not hazard a response to that re-
mark, though l wished to speak in terms
l feared she would resent as too per-
sonal. A silence of several minutes fol
lowed. The harsh lines around her mouth,
the retrospective appearance of her face,
made me imagine her. to be thinking of
something disagreeable i'll her past.
At last said:
"Can be of any assistance in trans
planting, tomorrow
Her face did not change as she said:
THANK you, none whatever" and
walked away.
What vagary had taken possession OF
me, prompting me to like this girl?
Something that felt would soon develop
itself into that which would provo more
vital than mere freak. Though could
not, with any reason, decide why | had
become SO conscious of this attraction,
yet felt it to be, if erratic as lightning,
as powerful and as sure to its mark. I
did not love the girl. do not think /
believe in the idea of the growth of any
thing SO complete, SO perfect as love, in
one or two days. do not deny its pos
sibility for some natures, where the
whole previous life seems to have been
attuned by invisible hands for this meet
ing and this love. But for me, who have
groped in earth's dryness and dustiness,
did not expect sudden publication for
the reception of the glorious guest
| had been at the isolated farm house
a fortnight, and had seen very little of
Miss Clare. In the meantime, when l
sat at my reading or writing occasion
ally heard the report of pistol from
somewhere back of the house. For q
long time wondered what boy or young
man was practicing shooting, or what
pigeons and quails were suffering from
his expertness. At last, one morning,
as an incessant "crack, crackw came up
against my window, I took my little re-
volver from its case and went out in
search of the marksman. The air was
cool and frosty and came against my
face with the very essence of winter in
it. Hurrying on to keep warm, came
upon Miss Clare, who was standing
about dozen PAGES from target board
nailed upon a tree. When came up
she was standing with her face turned
from me, loading her pistol. She wore
short, loose, double breasted fur jacket
and fur cap The cap did not become
her; her face was too proudly, coldly cut
for such half jaunty thing. I took
out my own pistol and examined 1t,
while she asked me if I was good shot.
s'Ordinary," answered.