Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1914-03-26


dnt kiss. Over and over he played
It, fmprovising dreamy variations. till
tde tender melody seemed the dear
ghost Of that embrace. At length he
went into the library and in the Grim.
Soning light sat down at the desk,
and began to write:
| Dear Bluebird Of Mine:
Il can't wait any longer to talk 70
you. Less than q day has passed
since we were together, but it might
have been cons, II 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
q bird (yet you are woman, tooD that
old disk 10 marking happy hours now
for me!
"How have I deserved this thing
/ that has como to me?-sad bungler
that have been! Sometimes 1t 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.
I am very humble. dear, before your
love.
"shall tell you when it began with
me? Not last night-nor the day We
planted the ramblers. (Do you know.
when your little muddy boot went
tramphng down the earth about their
roots, I wanted to stoop down and
kiss It? So dear everything about
you was!) Not that evening at Rose
wood, with the arbor fragrance about
! US. II think shah always picture you
with roses all about you. Red roses
the. color Of your lips!) No, it was not
then that it began-nor that dreadful
hour when you fought with me to save
my life-nor the morning you sat your
horse In the box-rows In that yew-
green habit that made your hair look
like molten copper. No, It began the
first afternoon, when sat in my mo-
tor with your rose In my hand! It
has never left me since. by day or by
nixht. And ~ there are people in
this age of airships and honking high
wayB and typewriters who think love-
at.nrst-sight IL - out-of-date as our
little grandmothers' hoops rusting in
the garnet. Al. sweetheart. I. for one.
know betteri
Suppose I had not como to Vir-
ginia-end known you! My heart
jumps when / think of 1t. It makes
one believe in fate. Here 1t the Court
II found an old leaf-calendar-it sits
at my elbow now. Just a. came on It.
The date II shows II May 18th, and
its motto y: Every man carries his
fate upon . riband about his neck. >
I like that.
THAT first Sunday # st. Andrews,
thought Of day-mxy It be soon!-
when you and might stand before
that altar. with your people (my
people. too. now) around US. and I
shall hear you say: 7, Shirley. take
thes, John And to think 1t 10 really
to come truei Do you remember the
text the minister preached from? It was
But all men perceive that they have
riches. and that their faces shine as
the faces of angels think ! shall
90 about henceforth With my face
shining. 20 that al men Win SEQ that
I have riches-your love for me. dear.
II am 20 happy I can hardly see the
words or perhaps It IS that the sun
has set. am sending this over BY
Uncle Jefferson. Send me back just
word by him, sweetheart, to say
may come 70, you tonight. And add
the three short words am 90 thirsty
to hear over and Overcome verb be-
tween two pronouns-so that can
kiss them all ct once!"
and with eyes brilliant. lighted q
candle, sealed the letter with the ring
he wore and dispatched,it.
Thereafter no stt looking into the
growing dusk, watching the pale
lamps Of the consultations deepen to
green gilt against the lapis-lazuli Of
the sky, and listening to the insect
noises du;iins :a:c the woven chorus
Of evening. Uncle Jefferson was long
in returning, and he grew impatient
finally and began to prowl through the
dusty corridors like . leopard, then
to the front porch and finally to the
driveway, listening at every turn for
the familiar slouching step.
When 1t length the old negro APP
peared. Valiant took the note he
brought, his heart beating rapidly,
and carried 1t hastily in to the candle
light. He did not open It at once, but
sat for full minute pressing 1t be.
tween his palms - though to extract
from the delicate paper the beloved
thrill of her touch. His hand shook
slightly as he drew the folded leaves
from the envelope. How would It be-
GIN? my knight OF the Crimson
Rose" or Dear Gardener?" (she had
called him Gardener the day they had
set out the roses) or perhaps even
Sweetheart" It would not be long.
only mere Yes" or "Come to me-"
perhaps; yet even the shortest missive
had its beginning and its ending.
He opened and read.
For an instant he stared unbeliev.
ingly. Then the paper cracked to a
ball In his clutched hand, and he made
. hoarse sound which was half cry.
then sat perfectly gt1ll. his whole face
shuddering. What he crushed In his
hand was no note Of tender love
phrases; 1t was m abrupt Dismissal.
The staggering. contretemps struck