The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1895-08-02

lne WdleT lOuk dlttI ut was uut III UJiA-
tical circles at home, waiting to take
the fair girls promise back with him,
out she delayed long in giving 1t.
She pulled few long-stemmed bios
SONS from the bunch and held them in
her hand looking at them. 1t had been
n long time since she had held daffo-
dis in her hands. They were the
flowers that hedged the garden path
leading down TO - street from that
little cottage in Dale. When the last
snow was melting under the hemlocks
in the ravine in the spring il was time
for the "daffys" to be IA bud, the little,
sharp points of green that stand like
lances to grow and swell and burst into
rich bloom.
They were the first flowers her child
ish fingers gathered; they were the
flowers that always decked the table on
her birthday. She remembered with
start that the day after tomorrow was
her birthday. She had quite forgotten
it until now.
There is something that comes TO one
at times; one is not conscious of its ap-
proach until il is an actual presence.
Some call it sentiment. but whatever IL
is it was surely designed by all-wise
heart when il becomes world hardened
proud, selfish and forgetful. The
blase man of the world will sneer at
his fellow-men and will pick up
tramp on the corner and take him
where he can get hearty supper. The
modern Shylock, holding his purse
strings with fingers of steel, will put
coin into a begger child's hand be-
ha
once knew. These yellow flowers, fresh
as if just plucked in the prettiest gar
den in Dale, brought back sweet me-
mories to Alice Jewell and old-time
acquaintances as If she had met them
face to face.
She remembered how the little
mother would say when there were
guests at the cottage: Alice, get some
flowers for the table" And on Sunday
morning before church, they always
made tour of the garden to see what
roses were in blossom, what flowers
We're budding and how long 1t woul5 be
before the cups and saucers" and en-
peror pansies would be in bloom.
She and Walter Hale, the boy who
lived next door, and sown pansy seeds
in the autumn under the north win
dows and had gathered the blossoms in
the spring when they were children.
Walter was so fond of flowers and Of
her. Then when they were older he
came to sing with her, and when she
left home they had written to each
other often. He was student then in
a distant city, but he said in one Of his
letters: "As soon as my graduation is
over / am coming TO the city to hear
you sing" He was a full-fledged NJ. ID.
and he told her her mother was failing
and had grown very old in these past
two years.
Il think it would do her good II you
would go home once, Alice" he had
said, and she had answered that 1t was
impossible then. She had promised to
go with some one to the seaside.
He had looked very grave and SEEM
ed disappointed. He reminded her
then Of promise she had made him,
but he said; Il Go not expect you to
keep it, Alice. Good fortune has come
to you in such way that you cannot
leave it to become village Doctors
wife, but ii was the hope OF iry life
and my spurs in college days" She felt
rather piqued at his giving her up so
easily, and when he left the city and
sent her only formal note of good-by,
she had cried, little and her eyes
were misty now.
Strange, what a train Of thought
these few flowers led to- Then she
remembered the letter she had re-
ceived this morning. In that her
mother had spoken of DR.. Hale, and
said he was living alone in the old
home with only Nancy, the old house.
keeper, for company. The plea OF her
mother for presence stung her. Self
reproach is bitter thing, but happy is
the one to whom 1t does not come too
late.
Her dressing room was filled now
with the peculiar odor of the flowers;
the call-boy had knocked twice. In
another moment the stage would be
waiting. She touched the flowers
caressingly and then laid them down,
and in the moment that she was cross
ing from her dressing room to the stage
she made the great resolve of her life
time.
There was a dark man In the au-
dience, who was deeply disappointed
when he saw she was not wearing
his flowers. He called her a coQuette
and felt that she was triling with him.
cHS gave no SlduCeS III MS ulreCtlOn,
and as she entered her carriage after
the performance a note was handed to
her. The writer was sorry he had made
such miserable choice of flowers this
evening, as they were the last he would
have an opportunity of sending he
must sail in day or two. Would she
kindly honor him on the morrow with
a few moments time that he might re-
ceiye her definite answer? This, he
thought, would settle the matter. When
she found he was really going she
would not let him slip through her
fingers.
She read the note by the shaded
light on her desk when she reached
home. Her white cloak was still about
her shoulders as she took up her dainty
silver pen to answer it.
You never sent me flowers that
touched me so much" she wrote. DAT
fodils are my favorites, and l shall
keep this bunch always. / am sorry
that ! will not see you again, for by
the time you receive this l shall be
out OF town. | am going to take
Ian uapofiDD I urich