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Show :a. 'Ulntrutb Glltl 1Rose antl Silver produced two or three sickly roses in the very first season. The shrubs and trees that had survived ten years of neglect had been pruned and tied and would doubtless do well next year, if Isabel-- " 1 hope he 'II never find out," the Colonel said to himself. Then he remembered that, for the first time in his life, he had lied to his son, and took occasion to observe the highly spectacular effect of an untruth from an habitually truthful person. "He never doubted me, not for an instant," mused the Colonel, "but it's just as well that I 'm going. She could probably manage it, if we lived in the same house, so that I 'd have to tell at least one lie a day, and I'm not an expert. Perfection might come with practice! 've known it to-but I 'm too old to begin." He was deeply grateful to Francesca for her solution of the problem that confronted him. It had appeared and been duly solved in the space of half an hour. She had been his good angel for more than thirty years. It might be very plea!ant to live there, after he became accustomed to the change, and with Allison so near-why, he could n't be half as lonely as he was now. So his thoughts drifted into a happier channel and he was actually humming an old song to himself when he heard Allison's step, almost at midnight, on the road just beyond the gate. 'ttbe 'ttblrtletb of 3tme He went in quietly, closed the door, and was in his own room when Allison's latch-key rattled in the lock. The Colonel took pains not to be heard moving about, but it was unnecessary, for Allison's heart was beating in time with its own music, and surging with the nameless rapture that comes but once. Down in the moon-lit, dream-haunted garden, Allison waited for Isabel, as the First Man might have waited for the First Woman, in another garden, countless ages ago. Stars were mirrored in the lily-pool; the waning moon swung low. The roses had gone, except a few of the late-blooming sort, but the memory of their fragrance lingered still in the velvet dusk. No music came from the quiet house, for Rose had not touched the piano since That Night. It stood out in his remembrance in capitals, as it did in hers, for widely different reasons. Only Isabel, cherishing no foolish sentiment as to dates and places, could have forgotten That Night. With a lover's fond fancy, Allison had written a note to Isabel, asking her to meet him in the garden by the lily-pool, at nine, and to wear the silver-spangled gown. It was already past the hour and he had begun to be impatient, though he was sure she had received the note. A cobweb in the grass at his feet shone 197 |