The Durham daily globe. (Durham, N.C.) 1889-1894, 1894-07-16
THE TWO ROSES.

For two weeks she had been trying her
hand at driving John de Nun mad with
love and Carlos Caranche mad with jcaI-
ousy.
John de Nun, the descendant Of Puri-
tan ancestors, only and well beloved son
of a widowed mother, betrothed to Edith
Fanarsdale, why was he here: Life has
strange cOmpensatiOns. John was sowing
the wind.
Not one moment OF peace knew either Of
these young men, their whole life bound
up in the bundle of her caprice, their
hearts at the mercy Of the witchcrv of her
endless spells.
Tonight she was alone in the rose gar
den with John. He felt the wild blood Of
some far remote, half civilized ancestor in
his veins.
"Ninett, Ninett," he pleaded, ,'one
word. You know l love you-or place
your dear hand in mine" He stretched
out his hand; she put hers behind her,
dancing away from him with a ripple Of
musical laughter, saying, Not SO easy,
Americana"
Crack. Snap. \ bolt of fire. The out
stretched arm fell shattered at his side.
She is mine, " said Carlos Caranche Il
meddled not with your fair white rose. l
brought you not here to steal my red rose
from me"
Yours, indeed" said Ninctt. You
shoot we'll, Carlos, but you nave made me
his nurse against my will. Carry him in"
i can walk, " said John.
"YOu walk not that way, said Carlos
"Ninctt, you shall see his face never
again" And with d fierce oath he lifted
John and threw him across his shoulders
and carried him from the garden. strug-
CLING but helpless.
\ light laugh rang after him as he dis
appeared. Sec you kill him not, l know
not which of you l love best, but if he die
l shall know. Twill be the dead.
He did not die, but a homeaick longing
came over him. He was half sick Of sow
ing the wind. How gladly his mother
welcomed him, how tenderly cared for
him, how wisely held her peace, and how
very far away from it all stood Edith!
One day John received a letter. He
read it, tossed it up and sent a bullet
through it, let it lie where it fell and went
in and told his mother the whole wild
story. Ninett was married to Carlos and
sent him a mOcking invitation to the fes-
t"ivitics
"Thc wild dream is over, ." said his moth
er, He will be better presently"
Better presently? Perhaps so, but as he
stood looking at the hooking letter he
was far from better.
He had never stopped yet to ask himself
IL question, but followed the wild dream
He surely intcndcd to go back to Texas.
No pain, no shame, nothing hut wild
passion and bitter regret had touched him
as yet. There was but one thought in his
chaotic brain-'Ninctt." y brown thrush
with a garnet head danced to its mate on
the lawn, pirOuetting with dropping
wings-so like her, the wild, bright bird
-Ninctt, Ninett The sun fell warm and
bright on the grass. Warm and bright
like hpr-Ninctt, Ninctt. The peoples
slept and nodded in its light, and one
great JaCqucminOt rose. All, the rose gar
den in Texas. Oh, NinCtt, Nincttl Well,
was she lost? He could go and get her as
soon as she was tired of Carlos, and now.
he asked himself the first question, Did
he want her? homogeneous as it was with
his surroundings, he did want her. Not
yet could he forget. But he had com
menced to ask himself questions. The
happy, innocent home life had begun its
cleansing work. "AnOther man wife,
Had he come to that?
Edith came up the walk. She lifted the
heads Of the peoples and of the Jacqucmi-
nOts, finally p]luCking Il half blown white
rose, pressed it against her cheek, inhaled
its perfume, touched it softly with her
fingers and lips. $50 said John, some
folks like white roses. She picked up
the letter, gave it Il twist in her fingers
Here, - said She, light your cigar with
it. Burn it up and have done with it. |
wish you were done with all the folly that
is running you and spelling your home
and breaking your mothers heart You
are a bad son, john
\ fire like the I1ruIu,u,1unt bIlyt6 in
her check. She was a red rose for once.
She looked at him then a little sCornful
ly and passed on. Something sharp pcne
trated his heart. He began to live again
Another mans wife? No, he did not want
her. The smell of the roses made him
sick. Oh, it is abhorrrnt to want another
mans wife!
\ soft, yet penetrating, voice wns read
ing aloud in the room beyond:
ITO lose the high ideals of our youth
and become quite worldly and wicked, to
put the things that should be under our
feet over our hCads-thiS is the worst ca
lamity that can befalI a human soul
John de Mum bowed his head in his
hands. The voice and the words had
found the vital spot.
The wild dream was over. Always
white roses for u bridal. New York Press.
Travelling Capacity Off Joke
William d. Ellwanger and Charles