Middletown transcript., 1901-06-15


eyes. I do,n Louise answered firmly,
"and your slow Lamarque buds will be
cut off just like the big James Spruants."
"Really?'' he said. The color left his
face, for he understood what she meant
lit was time to begin that prayer. For
moment he waited, trying at least to
say the part of his thought about loving
her always, whether she loved him or
not; the words would not come, but
there was little thing which he could
accomplish without words. He pulled
down spray of the Lamarque, picked
its most nearly opened bud, and cram
med it into an inner pocket of his coat
"Some men have sentiment" thought
Louise.
That night it was long before she could
sleep, but Maynard's sentiment was not
what haunted her. In the afternoon
when she went to the village for the
mail, she heard that Bainbridge had just
received the order to reioin his ship.
All the evening she had expected him;
the earliest train he could take did not
pass through till ten o'clock. Surely he
would say goodbye; but he had not
come. She had sat up until she heard
the train whistle, and then went to her
room without telling the news even to
Dorothy. Joe had been cruel, she told
herself, with sharp pain. What if she
had promised him'a frost for all blossoms
that ventured too much-were not he
and she old friends? She stood at her
window and listened to northwest
wind whipping noisly through the tree
tops; there seemed to be little doubt that
the buds On the tangible rose he had
planted for her would all be frozen be-
fore morning, and she felt sudden pity
for the daring red flowers trying to un-
fold out there in the bitter wind; it SEEM
ed as if her predictions had brought the
cold to them, SO that love and its SYM
boil might both suffer. Red for love
had he thought of that, he who had no
sentiment?
She went to bed at last and tossed
about listening to the wind and wringing
her heart with reproaches. sometimes for
herself and sometimes for him. Why
need he have been so tantalizing and she
so perverse? Between them they had
spoiled a sweet old comradship, and, yes,
she finally flung out her arms with
| mean and admitted that they had spoiled
far more. Would he ever come back?
| Would he come back unchanged, or
would his love wither and blacken as the
roses would blacken after the frost? His
love and the roses! How the wind blew!
1t seemed as if it were really his love out
there in the cold.
Suddenly she sat up, thinking of his
real danger-the danger of war. He had
| laughed at the idea that there was any
real fighting left for the Navy, that the
thought of peril for him had not come
| into her mind at first, but after it came
she could not dismiss it, and when at
/ last she fell asleep, it was between heart
ache and visions of bloodshed and con-
sciousness of the cold blowing of the
| wind
OF course, she dreamed. At first she
was standing by the Sprunt with Joe,
and he was saying something provoking
about red roses. She looked up at the
vine, and all its buds had opened wide,
splotching it with red "Red as blood"
| she thought, and then she realized with
| one of those cold shudders of which
dreams are so often made that the spots
were blood-blood instead of roses. The
house and the garden had changed to a
ship at sea, and the blood was from
wounded men. She began searching
among them for Joe; her feet were
heavy as they only are in dreams, and
she kept saying to herself, ga rose by
any other name would smell as sweet"
1t seemed to be terrible sad quotation.
A fresh anguish came to her every time
she said it, as if it were dirge for Joe,
and she plodded on for endless time
among dead men, with tears rolling down
| her cheeks.
The tears woke her. She was actually
crying and so weak and frightened that
she could scarcely gather courage to sit
up in bed and try to shake herself free.
She dared not go to sleep again-dreams
were SO much worse than waking. She
drew the blankets up around her and
began vigil with the latter hours of the
night A clock below stairs struck them
off at marvellously long intervals
four, five-while the wind began to lull
for morning. The coldest hour came
just before daybreak, she told herself,
thinking Of the rose. At last gray light
| showed at her window; then the clock
struck six, and she stole out of bed and
dressed, making no noise. The rest of
| the family would not rise for an hour or
two, but she could wait no longer; she
must see what had happened to the rose.
Even if it were frozen, the sight of it
growing naturally upon the wall, would
take away the lingering chill of her
| dream.
As she went outside soft glow of fawn
COLOR the first realization of sunrise,
spread across the bay. The air toucned
her face like caress. The faint breeze
that still stirred was from the south, and
| it brought her the scent of roses.
She hurried round the house to the
Sprunt.
"Oh, she cried when she came in sight
of it, "0hp
Joe cambridge was standing beside
the vine, reaching up for half-open bud.
His hand dropped, and he hurried to
Louise
"I-I wanted to get one whether they
froze or not" he explained, stammering
almost like Maynard. 81 thought you'd
all be asleep-Louise?"
After her first surprise, she had not
oy,onad bar line ht1t her face had gDOken