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In Wild Rose Time   By:

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[Illustration: “Oh, do you know what wild roses is?”— Page 254 .]

IN WILD ROSE TIME

BY

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS

FRONTISPIECE BY JOHN GOSS

BOSTON LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

Copyright, 1894, by Lee and Shepard

All Rights Reserved

In Wild Rose Time

TYPOGRAPHY AND ELECTROTYPING BY C. J. PETERS & SON.

TO Miss Alice Lee.

One goes through the garden of the world gathering flowers at one’s pleasure. Then a friend brings in a blossom for acceptance. Will you place mine in the vase of remembrance?

A. M. D. Newark, December, 1894.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. A Handful of Roses 1 II. Saturday Afternoon 21 III. The Way to Heaven 42 IV. The Delights of Wealth 60 V. A Song in the Night 78 VI. A Wonderful Story 98 VII. Martyred Christiana 120 VIII. Bess 136 IX. Dilsey 155 X. In the Desert Alone 173 XI. When He and Summer comes 190 XII. The Response of Pining Eyes 209 XIII. The Land of Pure Delight 226 XIV. Virginia Deering 251 XV. John Travis 273 XVI. Across the River 288

IN WILD ROSE TIME

I—A HANDFUL OF ROSES

“Hev a bunch o’ roses, mem? Fresh wild roses with the dew on ’em. Jes’ picked. On’y ten cents.”

They dropped in at the open window, and landed on Virginia Deering’s lap. Her first impulse was to throw them out again, as she half said to herself, “I hate wild roses, I always shall!” But she glanced down into such a forlorn, wistful face, that her heart was touched, a not unkindly heart, though it had been bitter and obdurate with the unreason of youth.

“Oh, please buy ’em, mem. Mammy’s sick and can’t do nothin’, an’ Ben’s got a fever. On’y ten cents.”

The poor child, in her ragged dress, was clean enough. Her face had a starved, eager look, and the earnest pleading in the eyes bespoke necessity seldom counterfeited. Miss Deering opened her pretty silver clasped purse and handed out a quarter.

“All of it?” hesitatingly. “Oh, thanky, thanky! We’d sold the chickens, and everything we could, and Ben said city folks was fond of wild flowers.”

The whistle blew. There was a groan and quiver as the train began to move, that drowned the child’s gratitude. Miss Deering laid the roses on the seat beside her with a curious touch, as if she shrank from them. An hour or two ago she had started on her journey, leaving behind her a sweet dream of youth and love and roses. In twenty four hours the brightness of her life had been swept away. The summer day wore a dulness she had never seen before.

She was a handsome young girl, with a fine complexion, light, silken soft hair, and very dark gray eyes. A modern, stylish girl, who had not yet reached the period when one begins to assert her right supreme over the world and all that therein is.

She peered at the newcomers at the next station. No one wanted the seat, however. The sweet wild roses, in all their shell like transparency, lay unheeded, drinking up the dewy crystal drops that had been showered by mortal hands, as well as dusky fingered night... Continue reading book >>




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