`` Old General Fane is taken with the gout in his stomach and has sent for you to watch by his death-bed . Make haste , for there is no time to lose . '' -- `` Fane ! Edward Fane ! And has he sent for me at last ? I am ready . I will get on my cloak and begone . So , '' adds the sable-gowned , ashen-visaged , funereal old figure , `` Edward Fane remembers his Rosebud . '' Our question is answered . There is a germ of bliss within her . Her long-hoarded constancy , her memory of the bliss that was remaining amid the gloom of her after-life like a sweet-smelling flower in a coffin , is a symbol that all may be renewed . In some happier clime the Rosebud may revive again with all the dewdrops in its bosom . THE THREEFOLD DESTINY . A FAËRY LEGEND . I have sometimes produced a singular and not unpleasing effect , so far as my own mind was concerned , by imagining a train of incidents in which the spirit and mechanism of the faëry legend should be combined with the characters and manners of familiar life . In the little tale which follows a subdued tinge of the wild and wonderful is thrown over a sketch of New England personages and scenery , yet , it is hoped , without entirely obliterating the sober hues of nature . Rather than a story of events claiming to be real , it may be considered as an allegory such as the writers of the last century would have expressed in the shape of an Eastern tale , but to which I have endeavored to give a more lifelike warmth than could be infused into those fanciful productions . In the twilight of a summer eve a tall dark figure over which long and remote travel had thrown an outlandish aspect was entering a village not in `` faëry londe , '' but within our own familiar boundaries . The staff on which this traveller leaned had been his companion from the spot where it grew in the jungles of Hindostan ; the hat that overshadowed his sombre brow , had shielded him from the suns of Spain ; but his cheek had been blackened by the red-hot wind of an Arabian desert and had felt the frozen breath of an Arctic region . Long sojourning amid wild and dangerous men , he still wore beneath his vest the ataghan which he had once struck into the throat of a Turkish robber .
In every foreign clime he had lost something of his New XXXXX characteristics , and perhaps from every people he had unconsciously borrowed a new peculiarity ; so that when the world-wanderer again trod the street of his native village it is no wonder that he passed unrecognized , though exciting the gaze and curiosity of all .
Arabian Eastern England Fane Spain ataghan begone londe tinge twilight