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 a little scuffle, a smothered exclamation. A great owl, whose downy wings made no noise, lit in the elm by the gate and observing them through his night optics, exclaimed: "Who! Who!" Surprised, the captain released his prisoner; 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 this material to the spirit world, where it was doubtless happier, was a very human kiss. Most of you girls know the kind--they were smuggled in from Europe when our boys came home.
The following afternoon, Jeannette, book in hand, sought the shelter of her vine-clad bower. On the bench was a note which she read. She had just 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?"
"Well, here goes: 'Marry in haste and repent at leisure'."
"Just such sentiment as I expected. May I ask if you are speaking from European experience?"
She handed him another card, marked "Lesson No. 2."
"_Ah vie! Ah vie! Jai trouve la place on tu demeures._"
"O Life! O Life! I have found the place where thou dwellest."
"You may give a more specific interpretation of your meaning at the close of your lesson. Read this," giving him a card marked: "Lesson No. 3."
"_Jeannette, Mein Liebchen: Willst Du mich Heiraten?_"
"Sure, sure. 'Jeannette, My Love: Will you marry me?'"
"Now you may read the poem I found in here. It seems to be in your handwriting."
Jeannette, by man though rarely seen; Is a friend of Running Water, To the Mountain, fairest daughter, To the forest, stateliest queen. She hears mystic voices whisper As a spirit to his sister. Songs you and I have never known. The trees speak of coming showers, Earth creatures of twilight hours; The owl tells secrets of the night, The robin sings of dawn's delight, The lark of harvest and ripe moon; But when love whispers I'll call soon, She's thinking of the distant moon.