Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1900-04-27

by her dear and loving old aunt, and
pleaded for by Robert Horton, with the
silent, but passionate, entreaty of eyes
that never left her, and by a thousand
acts of ceaseless devotion, from which
her heart turned with a horrible in
gratitude, Aurore thought miserably.
"Ah, but, little one, your aunt and l
are too old for such junlletings," her
uncle resumed, with a shake of the
head. You must listen to good advice
and let Robert be your guide and COM
panion. We will join you in the fall in
London or Paris, and settle down to
pleasant winter of enjoyment-such
winter as your youth and beauty de-
serves"
With loving gesture he went td.
ward the library in search of his mail,
and Aurore, with sigh, passed out on
the porch.
Aurore sat on the marble steps and
looked out over the moonlit garden, and
determined to have it out once for
all with her innermost thoughts, and to
come to distinct understanding OF all
those chaotic, troublous feelings which
, had so insidiously taken possession Of
her.
The faint chimes Of the village
church bell came on the still, odorous
air, some firefies went fitting through
the Towering shrubs, and a profound
melancholy took possession of Aurore
"a yearning she could not define.
while reason asserted itself with cold
insistence
"You do not even know him. You
saw him for one short half hour, that
memorable night when wind and storm
were abroad; that winter night, whose
dawn severed the frail thread of life
so dear to you.
"How do you know" said reason.
that he remembers you? That he
has given you single thought?
Because he looked full and keenly
and long, your vanity has supposed
that there was interest and admira-
ton in a glance only remarkable be
cause it came from eyes of singular
and splendid forcefulness.
"You must, you must thrust this silly
recollection from heart and brain. You
must get rid of it. Bury it under cares
ambitions, anything! And rub out
from memory the lines of that strong
fine face, which haunts you so per
cistentIv en- crup1lV
"What are his ties and affections
You know not.
Had he cared to seek you, could he
not easily have done so?
Forget him. Blot him from memorJ
and give a gracious hearing to the
friend of your childhood, to the tried
and true affection of all these years,
which has never varied, never less
ened, and in doing so give pleasure and
happiness to those who have taken
You to their hearts, and who shelter
you with their kindly love"
So reason spoke.
And Aurore, CHANGING back through
the doors which opened down on the
porch. saw in the beautiful oak-pan-
| eled room, rich in rare decorations, on
whose walls hung the portraits OF a
proud old ancestry, the handsome, ell
derby, gray-haired people whose cup
of content would be full, she well knew,
| if the plan they cherished was carried
out to fulfillment.
n,roipgf thn toll col.
umn of the porch and looked out at the
radiance of the night, and as the soft,
plaintive call of bird broke the still
ness it seemed to her that her heart
would beat its last pulsation and die.
this calm, glorious night of spring, for
reproachful in the intensity of its
deep, ineffable look came back the
face of her dreams, plain and distinct
in the soft, shadowy light.
With a stifed cry Aurore covered her
face with her hands.
"Did l brighten you, Aurore?
thought you heard me- come out on
the porch" said Horton, with grieved
eagcrness.
"What is it, sweetheart? You look
as il you had seen q ghost. Why, you
are trembling, and your hands are icy
cold. What an impressionable little
child it is, in spite of its 90 years" said
Horton, smiling tenderly, while chat
ing Aurores hands with loving gentle
ness.
"Now sit down and tell me what
you were dreaming about, and what
wicked thoughts were absorbing you
They must have been yillainous, to have
blanched your checks that way.
"Why Aurorc, child, you are as pale
as these lilies brought you. know
they are your favoritc flower"
Yes. Aurore's heart must have died
when she gave hat stifled cry. for II
seemed too cold and lumb. But mem.
ory still lived. for. holding the lilies OF
the valley, she remembered that some
one had stopped and picked up from
the wet stones few similar frail bios
SONS, broken from her hand, one night
long ago.
They sat side by side on the marble
steps. and the two elderly people in:
side peered lovingly at them, and nod
ded and talked with pleased laugh
to each other, and laid bright plans.
And Aurore ga2cd silently out AZ
the calm ethereal light, resting so
peacefully over all things, while Hor-
ton. with desperate emotion, poured
out his soul to her while a palpitat-
ing stiffness seemed to hover around.
"The dream of my youth and of man
hood, that dream, sweetheart, which
holds for me life's ambitions and dear
est hopes!" Robert Horton was say
ing.
Like faint sigh, the scent OF the
lilies of the valley came to Aurorc, and
the stiffness of the moonlit night en-
wrapt her There was slight hustle
indoors in the handsome library.
Mrs. dAubert looked up, paused, and
for ri