The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1904-05-27
His Lady Of Dreams.
By SUSAN sAYRE YARMOUTH.
,NNN1NNN NINNNINNN NNNNNNNNNNNINN

the table, beside the door, tall and
slight, in white gown that chung to
her arms and shoulders and rounded
waist and swept about her feet in
heavy folds. A cross swung from her
neck by a long silver chain, and she
wore broad brimmed hat with a
gauzy white veil, so her face was in
shadow. She leaned slightly towards
Ashe as he clutched the arms of his
big chair and sat forward in amaze
ment
I'm the Princess Constantia Gregg
rious," she said gently.
"Of-of Russian" he asked stupidity,
trying to fan away the blaze of to-
baco smoke.
There are other lands" she said in
differently. "And not so far away"
Great Caesar!" he breathed bewil-
dered, and his pipe dropped from his
astonished fingers. With the feeling
that it was the only bond between him
and nationality, he stopped to pick it
up and as he rose he struck his head
sharply against the corner of the Ii
brary table. Dizzy from the blow, he
ards the door. She was gone, as mys-
terlously as she had come. He rushed
bllndly around the table and
across the room, stumbling over easy
chairs and footstools, and sending
revolving bookcase spinning round
hri1 ho nlyx
library, and was it also empty. No trail
ing gowns had turnedupthe edges of the
rugs, nor could he hear any hurrying
steps on the polished stairs. He blinked
at the sun pouring red and purple
through the painted window for q mo-
ment, and then turned back and sat
down on the nearest chair. Good
heavens! what a dream! Who was
she? What was her motive in appear
ing and announcing herself in that
royal way? And he hadn't seen her
face! Well, if it was as pretty as her
figure-oh, confound his headt and he
was still feeling it gingerly, too dazed
to think of more than one thing at a
time, when he heard his friends cheer
full whistle in the hall.
well, old chap" said Thurston,
coming in. "Phew! but that pipe of
yours is fright! If we don't air this
room before the mater gets into it,
your goose is cooked"
why, what will she do?" inquired
the other, uncertainty.
You'll never get another bid for
Sunday" said the first, throwing open
one of the windows Gee! l didn't real
ize how rank Cissie is getting. Retire
her, Billy, and get another. But, say,
what's the matter, old man? left you
composing a sonnet and going to sleep
over it. What's wrong?"
She looked down at his maligned
pipe, and then up at his friend.
Say, do you suppose she thought it
was rank?" he asked
1.-THE mater?" said Thurston puzzled,
"She hasn't been here already, has
she? If so, we'd better go back to-
night Did she wake you up?'
mo, just dreamed it," said the
owner of the pipe, and began to feel of
his bump with a frown of pain. His
friend looked at him for moment
curiously, and then aimed a heavy |
leather cushion from the nearest Nor
ris chair at him.
Wake up, you idiot" he said. "This
is no sleeping car"
Dick, has your sister a friend visit
ing herr" he inquired.
an, coi6 tho other
"Well, there was one in here any
way" pursued Ashe.
lone what" demanded Thurston.
cone princess" said the other. His
host surveyed him in silence for mo-
meat.
"Ashe, you're crazy!" he said at last.
"Come out and take walk"
Mr. Wilmerding Ashe was making
for himself a rather neat reputation
with readers of current magazines as
a writer of clever little occasional
verses. Among his friends at his clubs
he was considered good fellow, and
they chose to assume that somewhere
he kept hidden away the person who
wrote his verses for him. His moth
er's friends approved OF him be-
cause he paid his calls, and he was
chiefly famous with the young ladies'
of his rather general acquaintance as
IN aster of the arts of Welsh rafebitry
and bandinage. But no one was pre-
,ored for the almost Oriental beauty /
and mysticism of his latest verses. .