Year: 1868

because III you were nCedn neceS-
sarily turn the dictionary upside down to
express my own personal sensations on the
evening of the thirteenth of December and
no matter what year! was in love
that's quite enough to say! l would have
run my devoted head against any number
of stonewalls for Edith Mornys sake; l
would have packed all my stocks, bonds,
and mortgages in pile, and put'em on
the back of the fire, at her sweet signal
would have cut off my right hand, or my
left hand, or even my head itself, and ask
no questions! l believed that Edith was
an angel, and was ready to battle to the
death, with any man who would presume
to hint otherwise.


And if that isn't being in love, should
like to know what is.


How lovely she looked, in the soft flush
and futtcr of the ball room, with the roses
glowing in her oval cheeks, and the sub
dued fire in her magnificent Oriental eyes,
and the vivid scarlet of her full lips And
then her hair-purple, black as the under
side of ravens wing, with its wonderful
floating masses of ringlets | felt my
heart tangled momentarily i chose shin
ing purplish coils-I knew it was 'gone
case" with me, and / didn't carel


How was she dressed? Well that is
hardly fair question to put to man, but
she had something pink and glimmering
with a cloud of white lace floating over it
and pearls upon her throat and wrists and
there was long tail of pink flowers hang
ing down her curls, which always looked
as if it were to fall, and which kept its
place, nevertheless, with marvellous ex-
actitude! That was how she was dressed
when we had the last waltz together, and
she returned the pressure of my hand with
the softest, shyest little touch in the world


1t was late when l returned home from
the party where had irrevocably lost my
heart. The little bronze clock on the
bracket between the windows, was Just
striking two, and the fire smouldercd dim
ly in the CRATE, with now and then clink-
ing fall of cinders in the fender below, but
could no more sleep than l could have
gone to Paradise! poked the fire and
turned up the gas, and sat down in my
patent leather boots and lavender silk neck
tie to maunder over faded rose that Edith
had given me from her bouquet du ball, and
try to write wretched poetry, where rhyme
and reason were alike atrocious! (But
just remember reader, | was scarcely a
responsible being-I was in love y


Il will call at the Marklyn Hotel to-
morrow morning and propose formally; L
cannot live in this suspense"


Such was my maudlin reflections as l
crept to bed at four in the morning, with
the rose under my pillow, and the poem un-
finished.


could not find rhyme to "Slyph" let
me cudgel my brains as l would, and
"Sylph" was the only word in the English
language capable of expressing what my
Edith really was.


"If you please, sir" said my servant,
"there was card left for you last night. "


"A card-let's see it."


1t was a bit of pasteboard on which
was hurriedly written: 'Charlie Dever-
eux, Marklyn Hotel, one day in town. "


"Hallo it's my old college crony!
calculated. And what wind blows him in
to the Marklyn House I must see Char
ley by all means-and-and afterwards
will lay my fate at Edith Morny's feet.


For my courage, so highly strung over
night, had been cooled considerably in the
gray, uncompromlslnS nShl Oh the Wlhtei
morn. Not but that was deeply in love
as ever--but then a proposal is a ticklish
sort of thing as all the masculine world
knows.


Suppose she should make pretty little
courtesy, and say ''No I thank you p
what an embarrassing position that would
be for fellow, chi Suppose she should
declare that she had always respected
you as a friend, but that in any Other
light, she could never act? felt my
courage oozing out like Bob Acres al
these awful possibilities But then, OF
YES" and put up her cherry lips to b.
kissed, by way of sign, seal and deliver,
ment? BY all the heather gods and god
desses, I would propose


Sol put on my tightcst boots, and trim.