The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-12-28

s.
A green curtain parted, and broke
his reflections. He rose to meet her.
How do you like our Sleepy Hol-
low'?" she asked few moments later.
And has mine host at The Squat
ters' Arms fixed you up comfortably?"
Very much" he answered to the
first question and quite" to the sec
ond. Not very brilliant conversation
for two writer's of some Importance;
but then his mind was wondering:
she was so like pink rose, and SO
very young, he could not think of her
as the writer of the little, sad verses
that had touched his heart. ''She is,
though" he told himself, and tried to
feel delighted that he was there; he
had read the little book. After all
people need not look like their books
thank heaven they do not!
He thought to lead her on to talk
of her writing, but she cleverly evaded
him. They spoke of other things, and
Meagher Delane tried to be interest
ing, but knew himself to be dull as
lead. The green curtain parted again,
and as he stood up to meet the lady
it revealed the little room seemed to
world, and there was no one in it but
this pale, sweet lady and himself.
He knew Miss Arran said the lady
was her aunt. He thought he made
some reply; but as he took her hand,
| and looked into her sweet, pale face,
he knew that she was the lady of the
garden and the low, white-and-green
room, and wondered why nature had
given the poets face to one and the
poets mind to the other Miss Arran.
my aunt is Elizabeth, too, so at
home have to be Betty
Miss Arran said little, but while
Miss Betty talked he was able to en-
| joy the delicate beauty of her aunt's
| face, and the lips as soft as childs,
the deep, mysterious light in the hazel
eyes, the warm glow in the red-brown
| hair-she was as delicately beautiful
| as one of her niece's poems.
They showed him the beauties of
the old-fashioned garden; they knew
we'll that the writer of my Lady
Fair loved Flowers. Up and down
the narrow paths they led him. There
were cornfiowers as blue as Miss
| Betty's eyes, and roses as pink as her
cheeks, but there were no flowers like
| Elizabeth; the lilies had not yet come.
They had tea in the lily-room, and
when the. little maid, with eyes still
startled, called Miss Betty away to in
terview some children, he knew that
he was glad she was gone. And yet
he could not speak.
She'll think me a fool,' he told
himself desperately, and yet he could
think of nothing to say. Your niece
l-she is" Che lied in desperation) "as
charming as her poetry"
The pale face flushed a little; a
strange, amused smile lit up her eyes
''You think so?"
4 He did not think so, but
"She is SO young, so -. full OF
the joy of life. 1t does one good to
look at her, as it does to read her
| little book
"And yet her verses are not all OF
joy?" There was a question in he1
i voice
No, they were mott was the little
broken-hearted songs he liked best
but he must follow up the lie now.
There is so much sorrow in the
world" he said. I'VE need not write
of it; let us sing of joy"
Sand yet" she said again, with the
L,same strange little smile, my Lady
Fair is full of tears
His eyes fell, his brown face red.
dened. "I-yes, it is, as you say .
|. full of tears, but - he
stammered, and became silent. "Shell
think me the biggest fool in the
world" But was it joy that surged
in his heart, and made him glad to be
in her presence, even though he could
do nothing but. act like fool? And
sorrow? Was it sorrow lying deep in
her hazel eyes, in the corners of her
soft lips? Had some lover looked into
those beautiful eyes and then ridden
away, leaving a dark shadow where
his image had been? Had he kissed
her lips and then forgotten? Was it
that false caress had pressed that
line of suffering there? Perhaps he
had not been false perhaps
he had died, and :. ss
Miss Betty. came back, and the
strange influence that held him was
broken. He talked again, and clever
ly, and hoped she would begin to be-
lieve he was not such fool as he
seemed. Miss Betty did not try to
conceal her pleasure in his CONVEX
sation, but Miss Arran was quietly in
terested, and not once did the shadow
wholly leave her eyes; even when she
smiled, the little line of sorrow that
slept in the cradle of her lips was
not wholly driven away. He exerted
himself to drive it away, and was dis
appointed at his failure.
AS he drove back along the dusty
lroads to the little township, his
thoughts were whirling. Could man
be in love with one woman's mind
and another woman's face? When he
Tread Soul Songs, two years before, he
Thought himself in love with a