The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

THE RED ROSE. | 551 the whole story and denounce my uncle. You have already made sure his plot will come to naught. Would you willingly procure his death who has. twice saved your life? If I had known you were so bloodthirsty, I should never have helped you to escape.’’ ‘““ Nay, signorina, I do not desire your uncle’s death. You are entirely right, and I will go wherever you bid me.”’ The sun was well up before they reached Rome. Safford could see that his companion was very much fatigued, for Italian girls are no walkers, but she was too plucky to own it. : , Several times she hurried him into a shop or around a corner to get away from some member of the secret society who might recognize him. They spent most of their spare time in churches, as being safer than the street, giving them a chance to kneel in a corner and cover their faces with their hands. ‘Better not stop at Florence.’’ Annunciata remarked. ‘‘ There is no safety in Italy.’”’ ‘‘T expect that’s so,’’ Safford answered. ‘‘I’ll go straight through to Nice. >’ | When at last they reached the station, Annunciata handed him her purse. ‘T don’t want this,’’ Safford said, trying to return it. ‘‘I have money.” “But I would rather you didn’t pay for my ticket,’’ the girl said shyly. ‘Vou don’t mean to say you are coming with me?”’ The tears sprang to her eyes and her lips quivered. “JT thought that went without saying,’’ she murmured. ‘‘ It is death to me to remain. Nevertheless, if you wish to = “ Heaven forbid !’’ Safford cried. ‘Then he grew very red and stammered sadly. ‘‘ But don’t you see, my dear girl, you can’t go along with me unless you are willing to marry me?’ ‘‘T suppose that is true,’’ she answered demurely. And that is how Walter Safford came to bring home an Italian wife. Edith Elmer Wood. THE RED ROSE. THE rose, like a meek, white nun, Kneeled ’neath the vaulted sky, And swung her fragrant censer Over the daisies nigh. Stealing upon her devotions The sun like a Cupid came, And kissed the wan, white sister Until.she blushed for shame. B. M. Wilson. CONnniGlOoKkS.c@ 3