Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1896-08-17

! chlldhoou6 homo, with death o1 her
young brow, despair in her broken
heart, and son III her poor frail
arms, to hold up as peace Offering to
her only parent left. her stern old
father. The mother died during the
first year of her daughters absence.
But Leonard d'Orville (which was
the boys sole Inheritance from a
worthless father-a high-sounding
name), was "inclined to be Wild" and
| these inclinations had been crystal
lized into set forms of as much callow
wickednoss as he sleepy old village
could furnish, by the undue severity
of his grandfather. So the time came
when Leonard flung on his back a
parcel containing change of clothing,
his little savings bank, his mothers
picture and bundle of notes written
in girlish hand, with, among them,
n long tress of ripping brown hair
cut from his sweetheart's head. Bid
ding his implacable enemy land
grandfather) merry goodby, he took
his way aloEg the highway whereon
travel set its tide cityward.
But before leaving, he spent an hour
beside brook which chartered away
in the rear of Dame Roses kitchen
garden. Nor was he alone for q fair
haired girl with long and ripping
curls sat near him, and their hands
were closely clasped, and moro than
once, as the lads eyes dGrkened with
the overpowering forethought of the
coming years and their loneli ness, the
tender heart of his companion would
prompt her to lean still nearer and
meet, and return-the kiss he turned
TO give. And rs they passed through
the garden in the brooding twilight,
the palo buds OF arose, newly ilowered,
caught Leonard's eyes. Plucking one,
he held it against the flowing sweep
of the girls soft hair, looking dream
lily at tho pure curve OF the check,
turned to hide the brimming eyes at
the tip of the small ear that peeped
from tho abundant curls, and at the
fair bud cleaning like n star against
the brown waves. Then his voice
deepened to manhood's earnestness,
as he whispered;
"6ome day, Floribel, my sweet
Noribel, Ill send you bunch of these
pale roses, and then I'll follow soon
soon enough for them to be still fresh
for our wedding"
Tho lad had world of latent ro-
nance in his heart, and it all weilcd
out in his love for this sweetheart OF
his boyish days.
"And J." Floribcl had whispered,
"will never wear bride rose until
you come to me-"
"5wear it, Floribel, swear it," and
he would not leave her until her gen
tie eyes wero lifted and her rose-red
lips vowed to wear no bridGl flower,
save at her wedding with her lover,
Leonard.
And year after year, as the girl saw
the thriving rose tree begin to bud,
would her innocent thoughts cluster
about the possibilities that her imme-
diate future might hold. And year
after year the spring passed by and
summer came and went, and there was
no break in the quiet monotony of her
secluded life. Time, the merciful,
had smoothed away those craven lines
of remembrance, and her life began to
be filed with other interests, and the
memory of her boyish love remained
only rs an eyanesceut odor, that came
and went with the lowering of these
long, pearly buds that grow beside the
cottage door.
Waves OF the doing of the great
danes of fashion and of form had even
widened their circle to take in the
modest cluster of houses and the one
street of public shops called Rosedale
latter Miss Florlbel's father), and the
"Society for the Comfort of the Poor"
had for many years been thriving
institution, with Miss Floribel for
President. As spring came in, huge
crates OF flower would leave the near
est station as contributions from couu-
try to city, cent directly to sister
society for distribution by the nom
bers.
Into this part OF her useful life Miss
Floribel had conceived to weave the
memory of her early romance. First,
must tell you that beyond few
floating rumors as TO his whereabouts
no word had ever came to her, over
the weary years, of the lad who had
promised such fealty. But each year
there would go from the hand OF the
lonely woman little token OF remem-
brauce. In the packing of the bios
SONS, over which Miss Floribel always
presided, there would go to the fairest
and most perfect of the buds of the
bride rose tree, bearing tiny slip OF
paper, inscribed, ''ln memory OF
Leonard" A harmless bit of romance,
indulged in secretly by woman whose
heart was as pure as the bud she
touched. At first, tears were the dew
of tho blossom; but now the deed was
only done as an act of gentle remem.
brance, rs we lay flower upon the
sod That years have won TO ripened
greenness.
The hospital wards were full, but
the interest had so centred about the
| pretty pallid child, lying patiently on