The Madisonian. (Richmond, Ky.) 1913-1914, 1914-06-02

| NSfE III
For an instant He Stared UnbeIiev-
ingly.
flesh bought with sound walnut tim
Der from the hillside. How he and
Shirley would go galloping over those
cleaning roads, in that roseate future
when she belonged to him!
Uncle Jefferson, from the door Of
the kitchens, watched him swinging
about in the sunshine, whistling the
Indian Serenade."
Young mars feel way up In de
clouds dis day." he said to Aunt
Daphne. HE wake up ez glad ez
eff he done 'fessed 'igion las night.
| Well, all de folkses cert'n'y 'joyed
deyselves. or Mistah Fargo done eat
bout forty uh dem jumbles. All heah
him talkin' ter Mars John. Reck'n yo'
mus hab er crackahjack cook down
heah,' he say. Hyuh, hyuh!"
~G'way wild yo' blackyardin'!-"
shifted Aunt Daphne, delighted. Don
need ter come eroun' honey-caffuddli
mel"
Oats whut he say" insisted Uncle
Jefferson; "he did fof er fac'!"
She drew her hands from the suds
and looked at him anxiously. "Jeff'son,
yo' reck'n Mars John gwineter fotch
dat Yankee CONAN heah ter Danny
Co'ot, ter be ouah mistis?"
"Humph!" scoffed her spouse. dat
highfalutin' gal whut done swaller de
ramrod? No suh-ree-bob-tail! De
oldah yo' gifts, de mo- foolishah yo'
citations is! Dom yo' tex no mo-
trouble ON yo' back den yo' kin keek
off'n yo' heels! She ain gwineter run
dis place, or OF Devil-John tuhn ovah
in he gravel"
Sunset found Valiant sitting in the
mushroom before the old square pi-
ano. In the shadowy chamber the
keys of mother-of-pearl cleaned with
duh colors under his fingers. He
struck at first only broken chords, that
became finally the haunting barcarole
of Tales of Hoffman," It was the
air that had drffted across the garden
when he had stood with Shirley by
the sun-dial, in the moment of their
first kiss. Over and over he played
it, improvising dreamy variations, till
the tender melody seemed the dear
ghost of that embrace. At length he
went into the library and in the Grim
eoning light sat down at the desk,
and began to write:
Dear. Bluebird of Mine:
'I can't wait any longer to talk to
you. Less than day has passed
since we were together. but it might
have been cons, If one measured time
by heart-beats. What have you been
doing and thinking, wonder? / have
spent those cons in the garden, just
wandering about, dreaming over those
wonderful. wonderful moments by the
sun-diaL All, dear little wild heart
born Of the flowers, with the soul OF
a bird (yet you are woman, too!) that
old disk is marking happy hours now
for mel
How have deserved this thing
that has come to me?-sad bungler
that have been! Sometimes it seems
too glad and sweet, and am suddenly
desperately afraid shall wake to find
myself facing another dull morning
in that old, useless, empty life of mine,
am very humble, dear, before your
love.
"Shall tell you when 1t began with
me? Not last night-nor the day we
planted the ramblers. (Do you know
when your little muddy boot went
trampling down the earth about their
roots, wanted to stoop down and
kiss itf So dear everything about
you wasD Not that evening at Rose.
wood, with the arbor fragrance about
u.s. Il think shall always picture you
with roses all about you. Red roses
the color of your lips!) No, it was not
then that 1t began-nor that dreadful
hour when you fought with me to save
my life-no the morning you sat your
horse in the box-rows in that yew.
green habit that made your hair looh
like molten copper. No, 1t began the
first afternoon, when l sat in my mo.
tor with your rose in my handi II
has never left me since, by day or BY
night. And yet there are people in
this age of airships and honking high
ways and typewriters who think love
at-frst-sight is as out-of-date as our
little grandmothers' hoops rusting in
the garnet. All, sweetheart, /, for one,
know better!
Suppose / had not come to Vir-
ginia-and known you! Ny heart
jumps when think of it It makes
one believe in fate Here at the Court
found an old Observation-Disclosures sits
at my elbow now, just as came on it.
The date it shows is May 14th, and
its motto is: Every man carries his
fate upon a riband about his neck
like that
THAT first Sunday at st. Andrews,
l thought of day-may 1t be soon!--
when you and might stand before
that altar. with your people (my