The Montgomery advertiser., 1907-06-08
WHERE TWO PATHS MET.
Dy INA WRIGHT HANSON. tCopyrighted 1907. by Mary McKson.

tCopyFiBhteo lSVfs py Mafy Mckeoh.J
 Tn the birch blossom path saw her first, and my mind was full of an- noyance because my sister. who kept my house, should invite a girl to visit her. and then insist that 1t was my duty to help entertain her. I would do nothing of the sort, I was think ing, when a turn in the white-blos- somed pathway brought her to my view.
 She was slender. and had great mass of brownish-yellow hair. pin- ned up with gold pins. one of which glowed sardonically at me with its to- pax eye. While was wondering why she didn't comb her hair smoothly. she turned, and her eyes, of a won- derful vivid blue, seemed to look down into my very soul
 stand perfectly still, MT. Angove and shut your eyes. Is there anything SO sweet in this wide world as birch peth in springtime? Don't open them. Mir, Angove. l want you to get the fragrance uninterrupted by any other sense."
 Why I should have stood thsrs with my foolish eyes shut tight don't know. but did. until she gave me permission to look at the white feath- cry sprays. and at her. Then quite sociably we strolied the rest of the way together. began to feel inter- ested in knowing what she would say when we came to the end of the path. and she saw
 Why don't know your name.- I said abruptly.
 At first you are going to address me as Miss BritIand," she replied promptly. "Afterward you will say Frances and at the end you will call me Caprice"
 Why in the world should call you capriceT asked.
 T don't know" she said. Don't you ever say things just as if somebody in- side of you were saying them with your own tongueT
 My reply to this amazing question was hfndered by the ending of the birch bushes We stood facing . little pagoda of white marble. l looked the girl Her hands were tensely clasped, her red lipa were quivering.
 Its like walking down the path way of Love. and suddenly coming to the very Temple of Love itselfr she
 frowned. Why should my sister prattie to strangers of our ancestors conceptions7 She seemed to divine my thoughts.
 Why do you look at mo like that7 What is itF What does 1t meanr
 showed her the inscription of the worn threshold-'Temple of Love- and with sudden swift grace she. kneit above the lettering. Then she sprang up.
 'come MT. Angovs." she cried gay ly, T will run you a race!" So back along the birch-lined path we ran like two children. and only my sisters amused smile at the end of the race reminded me of my for gotten dignity. I spent the rest of sthe day among my books and alone.
 Next morning Miss Hritland and I selected a walk opposite the birch path. This was straight path through an avenue of stately pines. Yesterday the girl had been fanciful or merry; this day she was neither. She walked sedately by me, talking quite learned- ly of the future of radium. I began to see why might sometimes call her Caprice. a aag ss =,
 "rhis is the Path of the Pines." I said, when we had exhausted radium. we should have taken this one first for 1t leads straight and true as the compass needle to the temple; whife the birch path meanders foolishly this way and that, and makes one many un- necessary steps to reach the same place.
 "One welcomes unnecessary steps when one walks with the spirit of the woods" she answered. Anyway, you should not have told me that this path leads to the same place. It would have been nicer for me to dis cover it myself"
 'So 1t would" answered humbly. How shall atonef"
 By telling me of yourself" she re- piled.
 There isn't much to tell" I said feeling pleased at her interest. We sat in the pagoda. and for me at least it was the temple of love. Let he who will prate of long-growing affec- ton, to me love came as the sun rises suddenly over the mountain.
 I told her of my life as a boy in college. as a man in the business world till this estate came to me, neg lected and long aninhabited.
 Another day told her about the temple: how my ancestor had laid out these paths to typify his love for his fair young wife, and her love for him -one path, quick and true as the compass needle, the other sweet in Its shy defiections, but ending just as surely at the temple.
 What was the young wife,s manner" she asked.
 T don't know. His diary is full of her beauty and sweetness and ac- complishments, but he never mentions her name. He had his own names for her-Sunbeam, Starlight, Heartsease, Love like that should not die when the body of the lovers are dust"
 How do you know that 1t does?" she demanded. How do you know but their souls are living again and lov- ing just the same?"
 She had so many strange thoughts, this little Frances, and she had so many moods-gay. serious. learned. childlike. How I loved heri could not wait much longer to tell her so. but I seemed to lack the right words. One day in the temple had been long silent, though I had not real ized 1t. till she interrupted my thoughts most saucily.
 wish that it could speak, for 1t looks so very kindly that its voice must needs be pleasant she quoted.
 Tt is going to speak," said. turn ing suddenly toward her, but she pointed. laughing, toward the door.
 Down the path of the pines came my sister, eager, breathless, waving a letter.
 "A secret drawer in the wall. back of my wardrobe" she gasped. And three nights since she has been here, has Frances dreamed of finding let ters."
 saw with curious feeling the pe- culiar chirography of my ancestor. I read aloud:
 Look under the threshold of the temple, thou man of my own blood; but think not to appropriata to thv