Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1913-12-20
THE WHITE ROSE.


flowers bloomed from early spring
until the frost blasted their buds,
a wonderful collection Of roses, Grim
son and pink ramblers, grew in riot
Gus profusion over the pergola, and
beyond this bower of beauty stretched
bed after bed Of rosebushes.
This garden was conspicuous for
the absence Of white roses; every
other variety was well represented,
but no one had ever dared to plant
a white rosebush. The garden
formed a part Of the estate belong
ing to Miss Harriet Peabody, and
with her dwelt a young niece, Mar
garet These two represented the
American branch of the family, and
the descendants of the other brother
lived at 0aken Gates, England.
The girl was now past seventeen,
a frail, delicate, orchid-like beauty,
who had never fully recovered from
the shock of her parents death, eight
years previous to this time. She was
extremely talented, understood mu-
sic thoroughly, could paint a fairly
good picture and write excellent po-
etry. Most of her hours during the
summer months we're spent in the
rose garden. Here Aunt Harriet
sat, placing fine stitches in her
needlework while Margaret wrote or
read aloud from some poets master
piece. They were thus engaged one
afternoon in early June. The rose
garden was in gala attire; its bril-
liant sweetness tempted the bees and
butterflies, who came to gorge them
selves from the honey-flled cups.
1t was one Of those quiet after
moons when drowsy haze envelops
the garden and your thoughts are as
elusive as the frefies' light or a
windblown feather. Concentration
is impossible and you drift away to
other realms. So it was with Mar
garet. She stopped reading, but
could not have told you when. Some
thing, which before had been unno-
tiecd, made her conscious of the
fact; it was a large, thrifty rosebush
absolutely barren of blossoms.
She turned to address her aunt,
who sat nodding over her work. "The
laziness of this afternoon has played
sandman with your eyes, also, Aunt
Harriet. Pardon me for not finish
ing the poem, but I'll warrant you
cannot tell me what it was about,
Let's talk a while, for 1 have some
questions to ask. Why are there nc
whie roses in this garden? Who
designed it, and has the large bush
in the center ever bloomed ?"
"Your ancestor, Sir John Pea.
body, planted this garden, and he
was an extremely superstitious, &C.
centric old gentleman. On account
of an old family tradition he would
not allow a white rosebush on his
estate. 1t seems at the manor hous,
in England there was a white rose
bush which always foretold death
in the family by putting forth ,
single waxen blossom, in the fall
after all the other bushes had Ions
since ceased to blossom. Sir Johr
decided to forestall such a predic,
ton by planting only colored roses
in his garden. / do not believe the
large bush has ever bloomed, but it,
foliage is SO luxuriant and of such
an unusually brilliant green that il
has been preserved"
Margarets gaze wandered agar
to the bush. ''Do you know, Aunt
Harriet, never noticed until today
that it did not bloom. Come into
the house; want to play some.
thing of Schubert's for YOU" Hand
in hand they passed up the box-bor-
dered path.
Several weeks afterward a letter
arrived from England saying that
their Cousin Edgar had sailed fol-
America and would visit them. He
was the heir and only child of Lord
William; therefore Miss Harriet and
Margaret made elaborate prepare.
tons for his coming.
They had never entertained a Wis
itor, with the exception of Marga-
rets roommate at school, so this
representative Of their English rela.