Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1867-04-04
THE PAINTERS WIFE.

"But you have not told me yet, Cyrilla
what incident the picture is intended tc
represent"
''It is intended to illustrate the story OF
Ginevra,' as told in Rogers Italy, | dare
say you recollect the poem in question"
go yes: remember all about francesca
Doria and his youthful bride; and how the
latter hid herself in an old chest on her
wedding day, and was smothered, and her
body not found for ever so many years
afterwards"
"That is just the point-where Ginevra
is about to hide herself-that Theodore is
trying to illustrate l have sat to him
don't know how many times already"
"And very good likeness it is of you,
my dear. And thechest in which she IS
about to hide herself is painted from that
real chest in the corner there 1t looks
hundreds of years old Dear, dear it's
quite wonderful. But [ thought painters
always invented such things out of their
own heads"
The speakers were aunt and niece---the
latter. a. fair and slender girl of twenty,
with a. singularly youthful expression of
face for one who was both wife and
mother. The time was half past nine on
certain autumn evening some half dozen
years ago. and the place was pleasant
home like room in small villa in one OF
the westerly suburbs of London.
"The mention of those Italian names,
Cyrilia," said Mrs Reece presently, puts
me in mind of an old admirer of yours,
Sirner Pietro Fastin By the by, do you
know where he now is?" 2
"No. Where?" said Cyrilla quickly.
In a lunatic asylum He went crazy
about a year ago, and has been under re-
straint ever since l don't think you
treated him well, Cyrilla, to encourage his
attentions, and then to cast him Oft in the
way you did"
Cyrilla's check paled suddenly; she sank
into chair, and did not speak for minute
or two. "You lave been misinformed,
aunt" she said at last. { Signor Fastini
never received the slightest encouragement
from me- / was attracted towards him by
his great musical talent; but it was his
own presumption that drew him on to
speak to me as he did. Nevertheless | am
truly grieved to hear Of the afflictiOn that
has overtaken him" ~ a. rr.
Cyrilla sat thinking deeply for some time
after her aunt's departure, going, in memo
ry, through all those phases OF her life IN
which the young Italian had been an actor.
Her reverie was brought to an end by the
clock on the mantel piece Ginning eleven.
She got up from her seat with little
sigh, and went into her dressing room,
which opened out of the room in which
she had been sitting, and bathed her hands
and face; and changed her evening dress
for a comfortable white wrapper; and un-
bound her yellow hair, letting it fall in a
rich sheaf down her shoulders; for Theo-
dore had gone out tonight to a supper
party given by brother artist who was
xrctof 70 ~ ofrlr1 ao1lyr
and she had promised to sit up for him
and Theodore, on his part, had promised
to be home soon after midnight.
Going back into the sitting room, Cyrilla
rang the bell, and presently nurse came in
young gentleman, was happily fast asleep
at this late hour. He was deposited in a
pretty little cot close by his mothers side.
You can go to bed, nurse, and the other
servants can do the same, said Mrs. Thorn
hurst. 81 will sit up for master myself.
See that the doors and windows are all
fastened before you go up stairs"
When the woman was gone, Cyrilla
stirred up the low fire on the hearth into a
fitful blaze, and then took up the first vol
ume of novel which had been brought
her that afternoon from the library Theo-
dore would be home in an hour at the far
thest, and the time would pass pleasantly
aud quickly away. s... r.I
A pleasant, coy, home-like picture
the pretty, girlish wife coiled up gracefully,
in her husbands huge easy chair the
sleeping child; the room itself, with its
walls half hidden with sketches, prints, and
water colors, with the easel in one corner,
and the pianoforte IN another; with
Cyrilla's work basket on side-table in
company with meerschaum, big and
brown, and tobacco jar after the antique.
A pleasant picture, and one which Theo-
dOre Thornhurst, artist from the top OF his
head to the sole of his foot, would not fail
to note when he should come stepping
leisurely in through one of the three
French windows opening on to the lawn,
which had just been draped, ready for
winter, with curtains of crimson damask,
in place of the muslin ones which had
shaded them through the summer months
Cyrilla read on undisturbed for about
half an hour, and at the end of which time
baby began to grow restless; so she laid
down her book, and began to rock the col
with slow, gentle motion, and at the same
time to sing, in minor key, the exquisite
cradle song from The Princess
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea;
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea-
Singing thus, she lifted the child tenderly
out of its cot, kissed it fondly, and carried
it through the dressing room into the cham
Der beyond, and there laid it snugly in bed
Presently, she came back, still hummins
the music of the song under her breath
and leaving the door of the dressing room
half open behind her, so that she might tht
more readily hear her darling, should hi
awake and cry out. Then she sat down
again in her husbands easy chair, anC
went on with her novel But the under
current of her thoughts was with her hus
band and presently she glanced up at thu
timepiece on the mantel-shelf, only to dis
cover that it had come to dead stop some
ten minutes previously, for want of wind
ing up. She put down her book, and ros,
at once to perform the necessary duty, fo
the voice of the little clock sounded ik,
that of friend in her lonely watching
How the words of that song haunted he
memory!
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea.
She was winding up the timepiece slowl.
and carefully, and humming the song t.
herself. and as she did so-what woman
would not have done the same?--sh
glanced at the reflection of her own prett.
face in the glass over the chimney piece
She saw her blueeyed face with its settin!
of yellow hair, and the same moment sh
saw something else by no means so pleasan
to look something that for one brie
instant caused every pulse of her being t
otto, Icttn ttoNt laY,fh