A Genealogy.
Fancy, fairest of the fairies, Wedded Light, first of creation. Unto them was born a daughter, Hope, most graceful of earth's creatures. Vision, traveling from earth to heaven, Saw her flitting in high places; Charmed by her face and figure, Boldly made her his prisoner. When he found all dreams were of her, And his thoughts clung close about her, Fearful now that he might lose her, To increase the ties that bound her, Gave her Love and thus he held her. Thus was born earth's fairest daughter; Eldest child, and the most tender; Who brought with her of God's treasure, Service in unending measure. This was given unto Adam, As he slept in peaceful Eden. To them came a second daughter, Of mystic, immobile figure, Who never strayed from her way, Nor wavered in her purpose. 'Twas Faith, invisible virgin; Pure priestess of Immortality. The incense from her altar fires, Bears man's prayers to infinity. Next unto them was born Reason, Skeptical chemist, who would test. All pearls in mind's muddy acid; And if found unsoluble bury them, Wrapped in the shroud of denial. Reason wandering in the dark, Met Caution, a sombre maiden; To them was given a son, Doubt; Dark visaged and night loving; Shadow to himself and others; Blind leader of the nearly blind. Hope saddened by a first shadow, Sought relief in fair Tomorrow, Land of Sunshine, Realm of Gladness; And there found Truth, dwelling sublime, In isolation, on a mountain. "Come unto man's world, brightest jewel; Cure earth's sadness, dispel darkness; Bring light to Vision, end Doubt's mission, Demonstrate Reason, cure sick Faith." Truth, unarrayed, unafraid, came; First beseeching from Infinity A kindly monitor for man. "Give to man's soul to know the right." "Thou goest, and thou art the right." "But Darkness, Doubt and Reason, Hedge him about. What shall be done, To keep his soul from strangulation?" "I have given Vision, Hope and Faith; And Truth when found will make him free." "He needs more; Darkness and the Devil, Have entered thy fair garden." "Take then, and bear to him, O Truth, The flame-like, still, small voice, Conscience."
The first month Jeannette resumed teaching was the stormiest; thechildren tried her out; she came through victorious, her supremacyestablished. By the end of the third month all the children loved her;and then things ran along so smoothly that she described her life toMrs. Allen as: "so contemplative and uneventful as to make the socialdissipations you promise an inducement; a year's shopping, of clothing,stationery, a typewriter and books, makes the visit almost necessary;and then I shall see you and Judge Allen, that makes it mostattractive."
During the year her school had slowly grown until it ranked as the bestcountry school in the county. The children had been transformed inappearance and disposition, until the neighborhood noticed the change,and people would say, "there goes one of Jeannette's children."
In the spring of 1922 one of the young men who had graduated inJeannette's class came to Hyden. He made inquiry and found out that shewas earning fifty dollars a month teaching a small school on Big Creek.He then called upon the county superintendent and the county judge andinformed them that a year or so before she had refused a position in theState University that paid more than three times the salary she wasreceiving; giving as the reason, that her duty was to her own people.
This information, with the trimmings that gossip added, made Jeannette aheroine locally. It was suggested that they should elect her countyschool superintendent; but the man who wanted the office called theirattention to the fact that the statute declared the incumbent must betwenty-four years of age. Then she was suggested as a candidate forseveral other county offices by the local newspaper, "The ThousandSticks;" but when interviewed, declined with thanks.
Then at a meeting of the school board she was elected principal of theHyden public school. When the place was tendered she asked until Augustfirst, to answer; and the board agreed to keep the place open for her.
Jeannette's school in 1922 closed on the twenty-third of June. She wasin the habit of visiting the Allens each year at the beginning of hervacation, but Mrs. Allen's health being poor they had gone to the seashore for a couple of months and did not expect to return until the lastof July. They had written asking her to join them, but this she declinedto do, saying: "I will defer my visit until you return, probably comingto Lexington the middle of August, unless I can be of real service byhelping you."
About the first of July, Simeon Blair informed her that his cousin SandyBlair was coming to spend a few days with him. There was plenty of roomas she had built a wing of two rooms, which she occupied as a study andbed room.
Although she had never liked Sandy, she could not object. She lookedupon his visit as of little importance; though she was sufficientlyinterested to inquire as to what he had been doing since he had joinedthe army in 1917. Simeon replied: "Sandy was in Germany three years. Hecame back last January and was sent to Mexico. I asked him but he didnot say what he was doing, except that he had quit the army. I guess hehas been dancing and frolicing around with them Mexican senorinas. Youknow how he loves to dance and fiddle. He's a big fellow. He hasn't beenworking much. There are no corns on his hands; they are almost as softas yours, Miss Jeannette. I saw him yesterday at the mouth of Big Creek.He don't gab as much as he used to."
When Mrs. Blair blew the horn for supper, Jeannette came in from the BigRock, where she had been reading. The others were already at the table;and as she entered the room, a tall, broad shouldered, red headed man,dressed in blue overalls, a hickory shirt and laced army boots rose upand came forward to meet her. She saw it was Sandy and was surprisedthat he rose to greet her and did not resume his seat until she wasfirst seated. He also called her Miss Litman, instead of Jeannette, ashe had always done.
She watched him during the meal. He had little to say; did not eat withhis knife or drink his coffee from the saucer as he used to do. All hisclothing except his boots appeared to be new. After watching a while,she thought: "the same old Sandy; nothing worries him; he has apleasant, intelligent face and he certainly is good looking; but hishands are too white and soft for a working man's. I guess he will marrysome poor woman who will work herself to death supporting his family,while he fiddles and dances through life."
After supper, Simeon asked him to play. She noticed that his violin wasof German make and evidently a fine instrument. He played "Turkey in theStraw," "The Arkansaw Traveler" and such other local dance music as hadbeen played when her granny was a girl. He did it so well that she wassatisfied with training he would make an accomplished musician.
She got out her own violin, an inferior instrument, with the idea ofgiving him a lesson; first showing him how to hold the bow properly. Forsome cause he could not get his fingers just right until she placedthem. Then they played together. He made many mistakes; but her teachinghad made her very patient. They sat up until eleven o'clock, which was alate hour for that household, because they arose at daylight, about fouro'clock at that season; when Jeannette said: "I must go to bed; you havehad enough instruction for one lesson."
"But, Miss Litman, play just one piece for me as it should be played."
She got out her most difficult music and by lamplight played it for him.He seemed enchanted.
"Please just show me how that last part goes."
She did so, saying: "Now you try."
He played well, though he made many mistakes. As she rose to leave, theclock having struck twelve, he played a few short connected bars, thepart she had found difficult, so divinely, that she said: "Do thatagain. You seem gifted of the gods; they have let you stumble into theperfect way."
He tried; but the way was as strangely closed as it had been opened.
"Oh! it is half past twelve! Good night, Sandy."
She went to bed; and dreamed of choirs invisible. Sandy walked up thecreek until he was beyond hearing at the house; then he played "AngelVoices" as it should have been played. He came to the house, slept anddreamed; not of angel choirs, but of graceful w
ood nymphs; and theirqueen's name was Jeannette.
The following evening, Sandy got out his fiddle, saying: "This hayrfiddle is shore a fine box;" and he played Turkey in the Straw,improvising variations that put life into their feet and made them thinkdancing was close akin to worship.
"Miss Litman, will you give me another lesson?"
She declined; thinking it might lead to a misunderstanding. He mightthink that she desired his company; and she only liked educated men.
----
Sandy Blair, on December 15, 1917, left Red Bird for Louisville and onthe 18th enlisted in the regular army. He was sent to Camp Taylor; andwhen fitted out by the supply sergeant, insisted that he must have afit. He pursued the policy of the importunate widow so persistently thatwhen he came forth his well developed chest, broad shoulders and leanmuscular legs were so fittingly encased as to make him the mostconspicuous of the four hundred and sixty "rookies" who that day hadbeen received and outfitted.
He represented that he had been sergeant in a company of the stateguards for more than two years and in order to substantiate thedeclaration paid his corporal to induct him to the manual of arms andfollow up the introduction by several strenuous drills; in the meanwhilefinding an excuse for evading the first drill or two to which his rawcompany was subjected; though he stood to one side watching andlistening carefully.
He paid the corporal two dollars to drill him all Sunday afternoon; andwhen he suggested that he would be too stiff and sore to drill thefollowing morning, answered: "Not on your tin type. I may have a rookiehead but my legs are veterans. Don't think these few pranks will worrythese hayr arms and legs; I have put in the last five winters swingingbig fat gals. And I've got a back like a pack mule, made to tote thingson; but it's never been broke to a pack saddle and never will be."
On Monday he took his place with his company and went through the drillwith the snap and precision of a veteran. As intended, he caught the eyeof the captain; and when he was told to step forward, saluted him like ageneral; and stood at attention.
"Well, my man, what experience have you had?"
"Two years as drill sergeant, Company C, -------- Regiment of theKentucky State Guards."
"What is your name?"
"William L. Blair, though most people call me Sergeant Sandy Blair."
"Return to the ranks." (This order came near getting him--but as thecaptain turned away, he resumed his place in line.)
The captain looked his way and wrote something in a note book.
A few days later the company was reorganized and he was made a juniordrill sergeant, the superior of the corporal who had drilled him.
The corporal considered the story too good to keep. It reached the earsof the captain and he told it to the Colonel, threatening to send Blairto the guard house. But the Colonel said: "No, send him to me."
Blair presented himself; and after a most deferential salutation, stoodat attention. The Colonel leisurely looked him over. While Blair guessedthe cause of the summons, he never shifted his eyes from a spot about aninch above the Colonel's head. He stood as a marble statue, and withoutthe least change of expression; though he heard the Colonel laugh and amoment later snappily say:
"Sergeant Blair, where are you from?"
"Red Bird, Clay County, Kentucky."
"So you are an accomplished drill sergeant?"
"Have me shot as a liar, if my legs are not veterans."
"Are you a good marksman?"
"The best in America."
"Go at once to the rifle range. I'll be over shortly. We will see if youare as good a marksman as drill sergeant."
At the rifle range he found about twenty-five other soldiers who hadbeen selected for a test of marksmanship. As the colonel and his captainhad not yet arrived, he stepped up and from a dozen rifles chose one andexamining it carefully appeared satisfied and laid it to one side. Whenthe officers came up the men were informed that each was to fire fiverounds at the three hundred yard target.
The Colonel turning to Blair, said: "Blair, you begin the test, as yournerve might be shattered by the strain of delay."
From the time Blair could hold a rifle out and reach the trigger he hadscarcely laid one aside, except to attend a dance, eat and sleep. Hisfirst shot missed the bull's eye about an inch, the second was on theedge and all the others went square into it. He made a better score thanany of his competitors. The next day he was promoted to sergeant majorand made instructor on the rifle range.
On the sixth of March, 1918, his company sailed for France. In May theywere doing service in the front line trenches.
After the armistice was signed, Lieutenant Blair was sent to Coblenz,Germany, where he remained until January, 1922, when he was orderedhome, returning on the transport Crook. He came back as Captain Blair,of -------- Infantry. During the more than three years he was inGermany, he gave all of his leisure time to study and music; and when heleft, spoke German and French fluently and played the violin like aninspired professional.
Upon arrival in New York he retired from the army; and with therecommendations given him by his general, his former colonel and thecaptain who wanted to send him to the guard house, who was now a major,asked and was given a position in the general offices of the StandardOil Company. When it was discovered that he spoke German and Frenchfluently, had considerable executive ability, particularly in handlingred-blooded men; he was sent as an agent to Tampico, Mexico, to see whathe could do towards straightening out the rows between the Mexican andAmerican employees. In June he was ordered to return to New York to makea detailed report and for instructions. The officers were so wellsatisfied with his report and what he had accomplished that he wastendered a responsible position in Mexico at a salary of $300.00 permonth, American money. He accepted; and before returning, asked and wasgranted a month's leave, to visit his old home on Red Bird; where he hadnot been since December, 1917.
----
It was late afternoon. Up the valley where the shadow of the mountainrested, the night creatures were waking up and had begun their chorus,which would grow in volume as the shadow deepened. Jeannette, who hadbeen reading under the shade of a great vine, which formed a naturalbower in which she had placed a rude table and chair, came out upon BigRock, where the light was stronger. She did not reopen her book, but satmeditating--how the memory of John Allen, which had clung to and filledher mind and life for so long, seemed slowly becoming a memory. She hadnever loved the real John Allen, but a spiritual personality; a creationof her own fancy, which she had placed in the body of John Allen as shehad remembered him, and made this creation a living soul; and thecombination a standard by which she gauged all men.
She recalled, how five years before she had rejected Sandy Blair,feeling his wooing an insult. Had done it because--he was ignorant--wasshiftless--no, but because she measured him by the Allen standard; andsince, looking for her Allen, had discouraged every man who hadattempted to make love to her.
And Sandy Blair--he had again come into her life. Strange, that nowwhenever she thought of John, she should think of Sandy. "My books, thecreatures of this quiet nook, the trees, the creek, the mountains, God'saltar for my prayers, these are my companions. John is my thought love,with whom I enjoy a mystic union that will last through life--as long asI am faithful. These are my interests, my life, other than teaching, andform and fill it and keep it free from what might otherwise have made ita weary materialism. These have transformed my very common, every-daylife, raised me above a dark loneliness to contentment and at rareintervals into the company of the stars. Yet now the change threatens, Ido not understand, I seem to feel a slow suffocation of the soulthreatening me. Can it mean that--must I find some one to love? Must Iquit weaving the web of my life with that of a mystical love?"
She was just beginning to realize that while her mind spun with thisfantastic thread of life, another part of her being, the flesh, demandedother company, and held another dist
aff and spun quite another thread.She had yet to learn that a perfect love gives not only the mind but thebody. That without the giving of both, love ends in darkness; and thatto find happiness the two threads must be entwined and followed into thelight.
She did not comprehend why now, when she saw John's face, which hadalways been so distinct, it seemed gradually to fade and merge intoSandy's. Sandy as he looked, when several nights before he had sat andplayed to her. She was vexed with herself--but even more with Sandy.
Young lady; you are about to have that experience which has come toevery woman since Eve. God's plan is breaking from its chrysalis beforeyou. The slowly fading spirit of John is entering the lists in conflictwith Sandy's materialism; it is the conflict of the intangible with thetangible, the memories of yesterday with the hopes of tomorrow. You willact as second for one or the other. Faithful in the start you may followbehind the spirit; but if you follow the way of your sisters, and theygo the right way, you will end by wishing you were second to the man whoseeks to drive the wraith away. Mayhap you may shift your allegianceearly in the conflict--who knows? You do not, nor do I. Take care!Beware! Your long dream of John may end by kissing Sandy.
"Nonsense."
At this inopportune moment Sandy climbed upon the rock, saying:
"This shore is a nice place, may I set down."
"You are welcome to the seat Mr. Blair, but you must excuse me, I wasjust going to the house."
He sat down; his face as red as his hair; provoked at Jeannette's abruptdeparture. But when he recalled that she had called him Mr. Blair forthe first time in his life, he was consoled, believing that it evidencedprogress in his suit. He realized that he had made an impression of somekind; and his experiences, which were not limited, suggested that evenan awakened animosity was better than the indifference of the pastyears.
Jeannette felt ashamed for having run away. "Running from SandyBlair--sakes alive! Why did I do it? Have I grown timid? Am I afraid ofSandy Blair? I suppose he's laughing at me. Well, tonight I'll give himanother lesson on the violin, just to show him, light-footed,empty-headed young men of his class mean nothing to me."
Sandy rose from the supper table and after a yawn remarked: "It's tooquiet around here for me; I think I'll go up to Hiram Lewis'." He tookhis fiddle from its case and tucking it under his arm, put on his hatand stood for a moment in the doorway. Hiram Lewis was their nearestneighbor and had two daughters of marriageable age.
Jeannette who had read all the afternoon and really desired to hear himplay their mountain music, which he did so capably, was disappointed.Without understanding the cause, she felt embarrassed at the thought ofasking him to remain; and would not do so directly.
"If you are going you better put your violin in its case. It's going torain."
"My what?"
"O, your fiddle then; if it gets wet it will affect its tone."
"O! the sound it makes. If I stay will you teach me to play that hardpiece of yours?"
"That was my intention; but do not let me detain you."
"My intention--is that the name of the piece?"
"No, sit down Sandy, I'll get my fiddle."
Jeannette went to her room for the violin and music. While there thethought occurred they had better use her reading lamp instead of Mrs.Blair's smoky, smelly, tin one, which gave but a feeble flame; removingthe green shade, she substituted one of pink silk which was muchprettier and which transformed the light into a more becoming tint.Carrying it into the other room she placed it on the small table nearthe door, and sat down beside it, her face tinted by the shade. TheBlair family were on the porch, just beyond the doorway; and Sandy saton the door-step, almost at her feet; his bright red hair and smiling,healthy face in the full glare of the light.
As he played she noted his mobile features, which betrayed their owner'sfeelings by sudden changes of expression. She had always thought hisface an agreeable one; now first she noted its expressiveness andevidences of character and determination; attributes, which she had saidhe lacked.
Her musing was interrupted by the Blair family coming in the door. Theywere in the habit of retiring with the chickens; and their cousin'splaying was no reason for a violation of the rule. After they were goneSandy seemed to play with even more perfect expression. She marveled atthe ease and certainty with which he played his homely pieces. "He isquick and with a few lessons would soon learn to play better than Ican--perhaps with training he might make one of the world's greatmusicians. I will teach him the notes, and how to hold the bow. Hishabits are good; he neither chews nor drinks, as most of our boys. Ibelieve he would make a good hus--; but he is uneducated."
Just here Sandy looked up: "Listen! I worked this out yesterday and callit 'Voices Jeannette Hears.'" He played something not much louder than awhisper, a chorus of all the still small voices she had heard about herhome--the wind, the birds, the brooks, the crickets, the spirits of thehills and dells; little prayers of praise, little prattlings of joy andhappiness--yes, and of love. She felt so happy; and yet so very, verylonely, for someone or something to love. A tear found its way down eachcheek and two others nestled on her lashes, loath to leave the fountainsof their birth. When he finished neither spoke. He did not look towardsher, but out into the darkness of the peaceful, starry night.
While thus they sat it seemed to Jeannette that something with a touchlight as a feather and lips soft as the petals of a rose brushed her earand a joyous little spirit with a dulcet young voice, such as she hadnever heard before, whispered: "Is he not handsome? Do you not see howquick he is to learn? Teacher, teach him! you can in a few months. Howdelightful to educate him; mould his fresh, open, plastic mind; make ofhim not alone a husband but a soul companion; which you could not dowere his soul awake to its full strength and vision. Jeannette, it isspringtime for you; be not a virgin of steel; let your soul bud andflower, the blossom of life is love, let it bear fruit. Would you die aspinster with a drying heart, knowing only a spirit love, little betterthan a dream? Cast off this sombre veil that you have wound about yourheart; open your eyes; do you not love him? I have brought Sandy toyou."
She rose from her seat and in a voice not much louder than the one shehad been listening to, managed to say: "Good night, Sandy," and left theroom.
He did not move, though he answered: "Good night," and as her doorclosed added: "O Life! O Life! I have found the place of thy dwelling."
He laid his violin upon the table and went out into the night. The nightwas not dark, though there was no moon. The stars were bright, theyseemed to be holding a carnival. The night was not cold; a midsummerbreeze stirred the trees; the leaves whispered of love and threw kissesto the stars.
Jeannette slept with a red rose on her pillow; and before she sleptlooked out the window at the stars and thought of many things.
----
"Jeannette, have you any letters to mail, I am going to the Big Creekpostoffice?"
She gave him one addressed to the editors of ----, which contained themanuscript of some verses--"The Heart of Things"--the first of herpublished poems. She offered the loan of the old mule, saying: "It'smore than twelve miles; will you be back tonight?"
"Yes, I'm traveling light; twenty-four miles is a mere stroll; and Ishall return, much as I imagine the old mule would, at a brisker gait,because I'm coming home."
She said nothing more; being surprised by Sandy's speech, which hadsuddenly dropped the mountain idiom.
When night came she sat on the porch until after nine o'clock, then shewent to her room, fearful that if Sandy should come and find her therehe might misunderstand; might think she had been waiting--but the idea,that's impossible. She tried to read, she had not read much lately, shewas not in the mood; blew out the lamp--and just afterward the gateopened; and she heard him enter the house and go to his room.
She spent most of the following day until late afternoon in her bowerunder the great vine; then went for a walk along the path which skirtedthe l
eft bank of the creek, the way of the foot-traveler, to avoidrepeated fordings, necessary if one followed the road.
Along the path were scattered scraps of letter paper and a littlefurther on she saw an empty envelope from the War Department, addressedto Captain William L. Blair. When she returned, she asked Simeon: "Whois Captain William L. Blair?"
"I don't know no Captain Blair. Sandy's name is William Lees Blair, buteverybody calls him Sandy. O! I saw that name the other day on a letterhe brought back from Big Creek--'Captain William L. Blair, U. S.A.'--the letter had been sent him from Coblenz, Germany. Do you reckonSandy was a captain?"
Jeannette began to suspect that Sandy might be amusing himself at theirexpense. At supper she was formally courteous; she first thought ofcalling him Captain Blair, but changed her mind and addressed him as Mr.Blair.
When the supper dishes had been put away and the chores done, all ofthem sat upon the porch until Simeon announced it was his bedtime; whenhe and his family retired.
"Jeannette, will you give me a lesson on the fiddle?"
"All right, Sandy. Would you like to know how to read music? In musicthere are signs standing for sounds, as the letters of the alphabet incombination form words, by which we express our thoughts. Do you catchwhat I mean?"
"Yes, I guess. But that's funny. I thought you just learned the tune."
"Put your chair near mine; I will show you some of the signs andsymbols. What's a symbol, Sandy?"
"Down in Mexico they tell me the gals play on them; banging them ontheir elbows and knees; that is the big ones and the little ones theyclick in their fingers."
"Well, Sandy, this is another kind. Now this is a symbol in music,telling--" and so she went on for some time, Sandy listeningattentively, with his head very near hers and their chairs as closetogether as he thought the occasion would justify.
When she finished he said: "Miss Jeannette, please play that fine pieceof yourn?"
She played it through, then arranging his fingers on his bow, showed himjust how he should stand; and playing a few notes at a time, instructedhim to replay them.
That part of the music which was difficult and she felt satisfied shehad not played correctly, it struck her Sandy played with greater easeand expression than she could do; but he made horribly ludicrousmistakes in the easy portions. Intentionally, she had misplayed aportion and when he reached this part he played it correctly. Then sheknew that for some reason he was fooling them.
"Now Sandy, play it alone. Do your best, I shall go out on the porch andlisten."
He started off in a halting amateurish way, making many blunders; as heplayed his mistakes became fewer, his touch fuller; gradually he forgothis purpose to deceive, the music was a favorite; towards the end heplayed as she had never dreamed the piece could be played.
He came out on the porch and sat down beside her. Neither spoke. He knewshe was no longer fooled.
"Jeannette, I can read and write."
"Write something so I can see; you may be fooling me."
He felt in his pockets for a scrap of paper but found nothing. Then heopened a card case and taking out his card, wrote on the back a fewwords.
She went into the light and read: "_Chi si marita alla svelta si penteadagio_. William L. Blair."
She turned the card over and read "William Lees Blair." She called outthe door, "Good night, Captain William Lees Blair;" and went to herroom.
He did not see her again until the next afternoon. He heard her singingon Big Rock, and walking down to the creek, followed up the bank untilhe came to the foot of the rock. It was very steep on that side, almostunscalable. She heard him climbing up. His hat fell off; a moment laterhis bare red head peeped above the surface, then his smiling, ruddy facerose slowly over the edge, much as she had seen the full red moon riseover the edge of the cliff that capped her mountain.
"Jeannette, really, I can read."
"Let me see."
And he wrote on another card:
"_Ah vie! Ah vie! Jai trouve la place ou tu demeures._"
She took it saying: "Now since you have had your second lesson inpenmanship, you may go home. I am busy embroidering a Christmas presentfor a friend and as this is the twenty-third of July, am too busy uponit to be disturbed."
That evening Simeon and his wife sat out upon the porch; Jeannette andSandy upon the door-step. He had his fiddle and was playing "Turkey inthe Straw," keeping time with his foot, his face lit by a happy smile.Jeannette's slipper tapped the floor in minor accompaniment. She lookedinto his face; saw the brightness of it in the darkness, and whispered:"Your music is most suggestive: I never felt so much like dancing as Ido tonight."
Sandy thought his cousins had forgotten their rule of retiring with thechickens. The old rooster crowed. "Listen at Old Speck, he thinks it'salmost day." Simeon gave an enormous yawn; they thought he would neverclose his mouth. It went shut with a snap, followed by the remark: "It'stime all honest folks were in bed." It was nearly nine o'clock; and heand his wife went in.
How glorious the night; how peaceful and starry; a time for visions, notwords, therefore no one spoke. The bold, bad captain, taking advantageof the darkness, made Jeannette's hand a prisoner. It fluttered as afrightened bird; then it lay still, either having lost hope of escape orresigned to a captive fate. Suddenly it escaped.
"Captain, I'm surprised! Get pencil and paper; you must have your thirdlesson in penmanship. Look on the mantel and bring me a couple ofmatches."
He took a card from his case and wrote: "_Jeannette, Mein Liebchen:Willst Du mich Heiraten?_"
He handed her the card; she read it; the match went out. There was alittle scuffle, a smothered exclamation. A great owl, whose downy wingsmade no noise, lit in the elm by the gate and observing them through hisnight optics, exclaimed: "Who! Who!" Surprised, the captain released hisprisoner; she darted into the doorway, calling: "Goodnight, Captain,hope to see you tomorrow."
Her dream love ended that night; the talisman that drove it from thismaterial to the spirit world, where it was doubtless happier, was a veryhuman kiss. Most of you girls know the kind--they were smuggled in fromEurope when our boys came home.
The following afternoon, Jeannette, book in hand, sought the shelter ofher vine-clad bower. On the bench was a note which she read. She hadjust finished it, when the Captain stood at the entrance.
"Come in, Captain, it is time for a reading lesson."
He sat down beside her, took the book and read--almost a page.
"If you do not care for the book read this." She handed him a card,marked in the upper left-hand corner, "Lesson No. 1," and he read:
"_Chi si marita alla svelta si pente Adagio._"
"Translate; I do not read Italian, or is it Spanish?"
"Teacher, I do not want to."
"If you do not I will send you home."
"Well, here goes: 'Marry in haste and repent at leisure'."
"Just such sentiment as I expected. May I ask if you are speaking fromEuropean experience?"
"No, merely quoting an absurd axiom."
She handed him another card, marked "Lesson No. 2."
"Read."
"_Ah vie! Ah vie! Jai trouve la place on tu demeures._"
"Translate."
"O Life! O Life! I have found the place where thou dwellest."
"You may give a more specific interpretation of your meaning at theclose of your lesson. Read this," giving him a card marked: "Lesson No.3."
"_Jeannette, Mein Liebchen: Willst Du mich Heiraten?_"
"Translate."
"Sure, sure. 'Jeannette, My Love: Will you marry me?'"
"Now you may read the poem I found in here. It seems to be in yourhandwriting."