The Golden Rose by Fred M. White — Read

Lethbridge started to his feet and took a step or two forward. He was strangely moved, his excitement dictated by something more than mere enthusiasm at the knowledge of this startling discovery. In any case he would have been impressed and interested. He had not forgotten the many occasions on which he and his uncle had discussed the chances of reproducing the marvellous flower. But these had nothing but the pleasant speculations of two enthusiasts in the presence of a new and fascinating theory.

In all probability the rose had never existed. It had been merely a legend written about by ancient writers with more imagination than practical knowledge. In bygone days Jasper Payn had possessed a magnificent library of books relating to horticulture, and some of these volumes were rare indeed. Strangely enough, though most of them retold the story of the Golden Rose in various forms, attributing it to different sources, not one of these authorities differed materially as to the appearance of the flower. It was this fact alone that kept John Lethbridge from pooh-poohing the story altogether. More than once he had experimented on the chance of producing something like it. He knew perfectly well that, if the discovery could be effected, a vast fortune awaited the lucky man who should accomplish it, and many a day had he spent working upon the theory that the Golden Rose could be brought within the practical limits of the modern garden.