A Parisian Romance — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A PARISIAN ROMANCE. 17 you to her forever. De Targy, in his travels, had always avoided cities as much as possible, and he was fully alive to all the charms of field and wood- land. On this exquisite day, he rejoiced in the clear sky, the pure air, the springy turf, the song of the birds, and the thousand indications that winter had released the land from its chill embrace, and fair summer was close at hand. He crossed the field with a step as light as his heart, and plunging into the cool shades of a little wood, was soon on the borders of the pretty town of Limon. Five minutes’ walk now brought him to a quaint, old- fashioned inn, with queer gables and odd mullioned windows. It had formerly been a manor-house, and still retained much of its ancient dignity. In fact, almost the only token that it was now a place of entertainment for man and beast was a tall post bearing a picture of a lion rampant, and beneath the words “Le Lion d’ Or.” Beside the house de- scended a lane, and ina few moments stopped ata wooden gate, which led into the garden behind the hostelry. A pretty garden it was, cool and shady, surrounded by a high bridge, filled with ancestral trees and planted with old-fashioned flowers, holly- hocks, pinks, and marigolds, and with its sanded walks primly outlined in box. The picture that met De Targy’s eyes, as he stood just without the gate was lovely enough to more than repay him for his long tramp. Beneath a branching oak, in a low wicker chair, reclined the white-robed form Gomicbookssco AA