Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1913-02-06
CIGAR BOX STORY
How Two Lovers Were Reunited
by a Label on a Box.

Of his love.
He was resting upon his oars, hall
way between the mainland and Cy
press Key Under their boat the blue
tides ran swiftly; the rustIing palmet
tos filled the air with murmurs; the
scent of the blossoming orange trees
was borne out to them from the In
land groves. And from west to east
the sky was afame with crimson.
Dolores" said the young planter,
will you stay here and marry me?''
She started and looked at him in
tently. A warm red colored her
cheeks, and the slanting. sidelong
glance OF her eyes became direct, and
then her eyelids yelled 1t.
your wifel" she murmured, and
her fingers clutched the rowlocks con-
vulsively for a moment. mol" she
continued hurriedly. "You don't
know who l am or anything about
me-"
Il don't care" Murdoch cried. Il
know that love you. It isn't much I
offer you-its very different here
from what you have at home in
Tampa"
"At home in Tampa" she repeated
mechanically, in her quaint Spanish
accent.
She had drifted into Big Cypress in
May, when the last of the tourists had
left Florida and the hotel was closed.
She had come from Tampa, she ex-
planned languidly; a touch of fever, a
need for rest, for change. No, she
had never been so far north before, or
to SO little place. She rented lit
tie cottage near the house.
Since then two weeks had passed,
and on the morrow she was to go.
She would never come back, they
knew, that brilliant bird of passage
who had fingered there, talking with
the fishermen, petting the fat children
upon the wharves, or reclining lazily
in the shade of a palmetto tree, puff
ing at her vanilla cigarette-a habit
admired by the men but made the
subject of vicious comment by the
fishermen's wives. Sometimes Ned
Murdoch would take her In his fat
bottomed boat from key to key, to
hunt for the elusive tarpon or to gath
er catch of mackerel for the evening
meal at her cottage upon the shore:
They had grown intimate. he and she,
and she had exercised her arts upon
him during those lonely sails. during
their long walks on the beach, and.
seeing the worship in his eyes, she
had made her conquest sure. Why
should he not succumb, this simple
countryman. rich, according to local
Standards, but hopelessly ignorant OF
the world, gauche. rustic, and simple?
1t was thought at Big Cypress that
she must be the daughter of some one
of the Tampa cigar kings--men who
had built up the prosperity of the
town in a generation, and yet retained
their Spanish speech and customs
amid the ceaseless changes, the Amer
icanization of the old Spanish city.
NO" she answered Murdoch in agi-
tation 81 must go home. 1t is impos-
sible."
Ned Murdoch rowed her back and
left her at the cottage door. He
raised his hat and went, turned at the
end of the beach and looked back to
see her standing there, watching him.
a slight and graceful figure framed in
the rustic door. Next morning she
left for Tampa. He did not see her
again.
She was gone, and Big Cypress
swiftly forgot her. The summer
passed; new tourists came in October;
only Ned Murdoch remembered her.
His loved increased with it's hopeless
ness Often he would timidly inquire
concerning her from some Tampa Wis
itor, yelling his inquiries discreetly;
but none recognized his description.
Then the event occurred which
changed his life. One evening, at the
hotel, a tourist offered him a cigar
from the box. He took one and then
snatched the box from the mans hand
and stood staring at it like a man
hypnotized. For there on the inside
of the lid was Dolores. 1t was impos-
sible to mistake those features: the
dark hair, the beautiful eyes. the
mouth, dropping little YEARLY. half
petulant, half sad
81 peg your pardon" he stammered,
handing back the box. Then he could
no longer restrain himself. II know
her!" he cried, indicating the portrait
on the lid. "She was here last sum-
mer and-and--"
"And you want TO find her again?" In
quired the visitor in amusement.
well, my boy, why don't you go to
Tampa and inquire of the makers
Juan Desproches y Ca? There's the
name on the lid"
'She must be his daughter, then"
said Murdoch eagerly.
Without doubt" answered the
stranger drily. Take another cigar"
That cigar seemed the best that
Ned had ever smoked. All night he
paced the beach in an ecstacy OF hap
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