The Dickinson press., 1894-01-27
CHAPTER VII.

1t all seemed 81 strange to Alan
Branston. He had seen q hundred fair
women, with love In their eyes and on
their lips-none of them had moved
him. He had seen court beauties, the
fair women of great cities-nor n had
lived in his heart. But this girl had
looked with the sweet tender eyes of O
child into his own, and his soul had
gone out to her. After that first glance,
she stood apart from the whole world
to him. Whatever might happen
through his fancy, the one great love
of his life was for her, and no other
should have it.
He waited patiently until she came
ter what Lady Rosedene said, he should
take her in to dinner and sit by her
side. He felt already an impatient kind
Of Jealousy lest any one should be be-
fore him. He stood near the door SO
that he should be able to join her at
once.
The door opened and she came in
lovely, golden bright, and like q rose,
so fair, 30 dainty. And rs she drew
near she gave him n Of the most coy
glances that ever made q mans heart
beat-0ne Of the most delicious smiles
that ever thrilled q mans heart. There
was an attraction, a something, that
drew them together; neither knew what
1t was, neither understood 1t, ave that
1t was sweeter and stronger than they
had imagined anything in life to be.
Lady Rosedene gratified the desire Of
his heart. She asked him to take Miss
Vane into dinner. Neither Of them saw
the corridors or the doors. They sat ut
the sumptuously-spread dinner-table, al
most without an idea of what was on
1t. The whole world was gloriled to
them. They ate ambrosia from golden
plates; they slipped nectar from golden
cups.
Long before the dinner was over Alan
Branston had lost himself in the light
of Hyacinth's eyes. More than one
present smiled to see how completely
they had forgotten the world in each
other. Some sighed as they smiled, for
the golden hours of youth and love fly
so quickly. 1t was pretty to see: He
with a careless laugh, a happy smile, In
voice, a chivalrous easy manner. He
was the beau ideal Of a lo%ver-ardent,
poetical, pleasant In every word and
look, with a lordly protecting air that
was irresistible. She was 80 dainty In
color and shape, SO perfect in her fresh
girlish loneliness, that she looked more
like M of the sweet flowers she was
named after than anything else.
It was pretty to see the light In her
eyes and the flush Of expectation OF her
face when the ladies' in the drawing
room awaited the coming Of the gentle
men. Some subtle attraction drew Alan
ut once to her side. He took the chair
nearest to her, and, Us Lady Rosedene
expressed It to herself, remained there
"a fixture" all the evening. Some
charitable lady, as Alan mentally
called her, sat down to the piano, and
under cover Of The music he waS able
to talk.
i've been trying to think" he said,
what 1t Is of which your eyes remind
me. The blue OF. them recalls ~
tn1ng to my memory, and I hardly
INC what it Is. 1 have it," he cried,
suddenly. "They r of the same color
as the deep blue ccrDlowers that grow
in France"
"They grow In England, too" an
swered Hyccinth.
Yes; u they look poor when COM
pared with the blue ones that bloom
under the warm skies OF Franco. /
snail take the cOrnflower for my fayo:-
lite flower, as Napoleon took the violet,
and the Bourbons the lily. l will alter
/, the arms of my family, and add a corn
flower to them"
AN because my eyes are blue?' she
/ asked. laughingly.
!, Il begin to think that everything
most beautiful Is blue" he said. III
< IL the color of the heavens, of til,
Southern seas. of the cornfiower, O.
Il your eyes,"
i, She laughed.
"That sounds like fattery," she tol,
q him.
r "Oh, no." he replied. 1T Is swee,
i. est truth. What q strange thing TIL,
I should hive come just now Will
you IRE here! If I had missed thu
q visit. ! might never have seen YOU"
"And then?" she asked, with a sue
= den paling Of her lovely face.
= Them" he said. why, the worl
would have been different, as 1t is dt
ferent now:" and the evening was owe