Jasper County Democrat, Volume 9, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 March 1907 — THE PARAGON [ARTICLE]

THE PARAGON

Mrs. Hudson was to give a dinner party. “My dear,” she said to her niece, “you will meet tonight a great friend of mine. He does not care for parties. Will you see that he Is not bored at this one?” “He does not care for parties? A woman hater no doubt! Why must he be assigned to me?” Now, Mrs. Hudson’s dearest wish was to have these two people fall in love. She had planned this party for the purpose of having them meet, bnt Mrs. Hudson was a wise woman. She did not tell all she knew. Besides, as she herself often declared —being a great matchmaker—one cannot force such matters. So she simply said In answer to her niece: “I want you to entertain him, Lillian, because he is a stranger In town. He is by no means a bore. He Is handsome, witty, interesting.” “What a paragon, aunt!” interrupted Lillian. “I know I shall hate him.” “I lielievo you will!” exclaimed the elder woman in despair as she left the room. Lillian resumed her preparations for what promised to be a very disagreeable evening. “Handsome, witty, interesting. That Is a good description of some one I know,” she thought as sho twined some flowers in her hand. “He used to laugh at my fancy for flowers.” The bright look died out of her face. “I have not forgotten him. I wonder if I ever will.” she .whispered, “while lie has probably forgotten I am In existence.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “How foolish!” site saitl as she hastily brushed it away. A pretty picture she made in her white silk gown, with the flowers about her head like a crown, when a few minutes later she descended to the drawing room. So thought a young man who stood watching her as she came down the stairs and who held out his hands to her in welcome. “This is indeed a surprise,” he said. “I did not expect to see you here this evening.” “Mrs. Hudson is my aunt, you know, or, rather, you do not know. I never mentioned her to you, I believe. I did not know you were friends,” she said. “I am happy to say your aunt is a friend of mine,” he said as they moved across the hall away from the drawing room, where her aunt awaited her. And the paragon? Lillian had forgotten him. “You have changed,” the young man said, gazing long and earnestly at her. “Y'ou have grown from a child to a woman.”

“You also have changed," she replied, noting the sternness of the handsome face. “Yes, although fortune has been kinder to me than I dared to hope. She has been kind to me tonight," he added. beading over his companion. She turned and looked from the window near which they stood. The house was large, the guests few in number; no one molested them. “How well I remember the last night I saw you!” he said. “There were flowers in your hair—daisies—like you wear tonight. One nestled iu the curl above your ear. I wished to take it. I dared not ask for it, although one flower more or less would mean nothing to you. You were a mere child, with no knowledge of the world you were so soon to enter, while I had nothing neither fame nor fortune, (fbr lives were apart I bade you goodby that night, but I did not forget you—l could not.” She did not move or turn her head. “I have offended you,” he said contritely. “No, no!” Lillian answered. “Oh, but I have!” he cried in distress. “In my delight at seeing you I have overstepped the bounds of politeness. I have been rude.” “You do not understand. I was no child,” she said hurriedly, and she turned to go. A flower fell from her hair. He stooped and picked it up. “Keep it,” she whispered, moving away. He took the flower and with it her hand, as if iu that moment he had divined the truth. “At one time,” he said in tones that trembled, “if I could have had u flower from your hair my happiness would have been complete. Now my happiuess will not be complete without the giver. May I have her?” he whispered. “Say yes,” he pleaded. Who could resist that tender voice’/ Not Lillian, who loved him with all her heart. Her answ’er was low, but he must have heard It, for he kissed the flower. “The paragon!” Lillian said' a few minutes later, suddenly remembering her aunt’s commission. Filled with emotion, she approached that lady, who smiled benignly upon her. “Why, you have been talking to him all the evening,” explained her aunt. “James, your paragon!” exclaimed Lillian In astonishment. “James,” Mrs. Hudson repeated, indignant at the familiarity. “He and I are old friends, aunt. I met him three years ago when I was at the mountains with papa. Besides,” very demurely, “he Is to be my husband” And Mr*. Hudson always declared she made the match.—Boston Post.