Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1896-08-01

LID IVY hoh NAoySs
"And l." Floribel had whispered,
"will never wear q bride rose until
you come to me-"
"Swear it, Floribel, swear it'll" and
he would not leave her until her gen.
tie eyes were lifted and her rose.red
lips vowed to wear no bridal 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.
date 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 filled with other interests, and the
memory of her boyish love remained
only as an evanescent odor, that came
and went with the towering 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 Floribel's father), and the
"Society for the Comfort OF the Poor"
had for many years been a thriving
institution, with Miss Floribel for
President. AS spring came in. huge
crates of flower would leave the near
est station as contributions from coun.
try to city, sent directly to sister
society for distribution by the mem.
bers.
Into this part Of her useful life Miss
Floribel had conceived to weave the
memory of her early romance. First,
I 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-
brance. In the packing of the BIOS
SONS, over which Miss Floribel always
presided, there would 90 to the fairest
and most perfect of the buds of the
bride rose tree, bearing tiny slip of
paper, inscribed, "In memory of
Leonard" A harmless bit of romance,
INDUCED in secretly by a woman whose
heart vas as pure as the bud she
touched. At first, tears were the dew
of the blossom; but now the deed was
only done as an act Of gentle remem.
brance, as 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
her pillow, awaiting the coming of the
surgeon, that crowd of nurses and
attendants stood near, waiting to an.
ticipate her slightest wish. Through
the long ''aislos of pain" had futtered
bevy of bright-faced, sweet-voiced
women. and the whole atmosphere
bore witness OF their gentle ministra-
tions, for on each pillow there lay
blossom fresh and fair, and by each
cot there stood bunch of flowers,
some rare, all beautiful.
1t really seemed by a process of
stiffness" that the bud which lay with.
in reach of the little wasted hand,
resting so quietly on the quiet breast,
WAS as fair as pearl, and it seemed,
as did the child, an emblem Of purity
and peace.
The day had been set for an opera
ton, toperform which celebrated sur.
geon was coming from distance. The
operation was to be done IN the inter-
ests OF science; hence the cost had not
been matter of consideration F.; other.
wise the child, being daughter of the
poor, would have exhaled her life away
in prolonged and unrelieved> torture.
At last they essayed to lift the light
form and bear it to the operating
room. Gentle hands were about her,
but she murmured, and one leaned
down to listen:
"My rose bud My beautiful flower |
May I not carry it with me?"
And she smiled contentedly as her
small, fevered hand clasped the long,
hexile stem.
Beside the long table in the brill
iantly lighted room stood several
men, one, made prominent by the
lofty grace of his bearing and the
grave beauty of his thoughtful face.
This was the surgeon who had con.
sented to come from distance that
mysterious ailment might be pene-
trated and it's causes laid bare.
How tenderly he leaned over the
small, pale face ere yet the anesthetic
had been administered; how deep and
thrilling the tones Of his voice as he
spoke words.of encouragement to the
sufferer. Shopping in the presence of
the assembled students and bearded
men of the resident medical faculty,
he laid his lips in light kiss on the
fair forehead of the child. As he
leaned above her his eye caught the
CLEAN of the pearly.petaled bud that
lay upon the childish breast And did
he start, or was it q flicker OF one OF
the myriad lights? Very gently he
lifted the bud. his hand encountering
strip of paper tied about the long
stem as he did so; and, turning, he
laid it down with the gloves, which
he had dotted upon entering the hall
All was over, and we'll over. The
child had rallied, and was sleeping
quietly. Beside her watched skilled
nurses, and within reach of her wax.
inp hand stood great bowl of choices.
bloom, but the creamy bud was gone.
These had come in its stead.
Alone in the room assigned him in
tho hotel sits the surgeon. In a vase
before him droops the pale bud, and
the delicate fragrance from Its heart
seems to mount to his brain, for he
rises from his chair. to pace with rest
less feet tho narrow room. He holds
in his hand slip of paper, and q
thousand times has he read and reread