The Daily bulletin. [volume] (Honolulu [Hawaii]) 1882-1895, 1891-05-27

rustic bridge, watching the rhythmic
/ flow of the waters and the minnows
darting in the cool. dark depths below
1t was an iayllic summer. Both We're
happy One knew why it was; the other
only half guessed it.
Ronald Mitchell at 30 years had for
/ the first time felt his inmost heart
stirred and thrilled by a womans pres.
ence. He loved her with all the I'M
wasted strength Of his perfect manhood,
with all the tenderness Of a true mans
first love.
/ One evening he told her They were
sitting together on mossy log beside the
/ creek.
Wilma had thrown off her wide gar
den hat, and the late rose in her dark
hair CLEANED whitley like soft star in
the dusk.
What caprice seized the girl?
She listened to his eager words with
averted face turned toward the dying
sunset light.
When he had finished she did not an
swer.
He takes too much for granted" she
thought; "he is too 1nasterful; he asks as
though my heart was some light thing
to which he had right | will teach
him it is not.
She rose and turned to go. He caught
her hands and detained her.
''Wilma, are you not going to say a
word? Are you then the coquette | al
most thought you that first day?"
His words stung her. She tried to free
herself, and the rose fell from her hair
He picked it up.
IF you won't say anything, Wilma
give me this rose. Let it be a symbol Of
hope to Inc"
She snatched it from his hand.
when | am ready to answer you,"
she said, Il will send it to you," and
then she slipped away and hurried toward
the house. A spice of romance had al
ways been part of her nature. Now as
she fitted away she touched the sense
less flower with lips that trefnbled.
81 do love him-I do love him." she
whispered as she sped along the shadowy
path through the garden.
But the girls willful heart was slow
to yield. A week passed
Ronald Mitchell came not once to the
farmhouse. Rebecca Northfeld Won
dered at his absence, and looked search
ingly at the quiet faced girl One even
ing she came into the quaint old room,
with its sloping roof and lattice window.
where Wilma sat reading.
81 thought I'd tell thee, Wilma, that
Ronald is going away tomorrow. He is
tired, he said when | met him today,
and needs a change. He does look worn.
wonder why he keeps away from us. y
She looked keenly through her gold
trimmed glasses at the girl
II don't know, grandmamma, I'm
sure. He does act strangely of late.
Will he stay away long, do you Think"
"A month, he said, she answered.
The girl drew a quick breath "a
month" she thought. I'm a month |
shall be back in school"
Her heart beat quickly After while
she took little box from her bureau,
and went down stairs and out into the
garden.
She called to Don and wandered down
to the messy log beside the creek. She
had been here every day since that time
a week ago.
She sat down ON the log, and Don sat
down beside her, looking gravely at the
running stream.
She drew II little folded note from the
box in her hand and opened it.
'Come to me" it said, and then in deli
cate tracery her name, wilma
That was all.
The girls eyes shone half mischievous-
ly as she fastened the tiny box to Don's
silver collar with bit Of ribbon, and a
bright color glowed in her cheeks.
Then she folded her small hands to-
gether and looked seriously into the
dogs great. noble eyes.
Good old Don," she said, stake it to
Ronald to Ronald = do you under
stand?"
He looked up intelligently into her
face and trotted off sedately
Ronald Mitchell was in his room
alone. One by one such articles as were
necessary We're being packed into his
travelling bag
A sudden patter ON the stairs arrested
his attention, and the next moment q
familiar black head was thrust through
the half opened doorway,
"Why, Don, old fellow! Come to say
good-by? What's this?'
He unfastened the little box and open
ed it. When he had unfolded the slip of
paper and found the withered white
rose he sprang to his feet. Then, to
Don's amazement, he bounded down the
stairs and out into the summer twilight,
the grave dog following at his heels
He found her on the messy log beside
the creek, looking expectantly toward
him with the shy, sweet glow of love in
her dark eyes and on her face.
Only Don was the witness of that
meeting, but when little later the
happy lovers wandered up the sweetly
scented garden, cool and shadowy in the
cleaning, and grandmamma came to
meet them with glad surprise and
light of calm contentment in her serene
face, all thoughts of the projected visit
were banished, and the half packed
travelling bag lay forgotten on the floor
at me.-Harriet Francene Crocker in
New York Ledger.