Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1867-04-05
THE PAINTEsz'a WIFE.

what incident the picture Is intended 10
represent"
at is intended to illustrate the story of
'Ginevra as tod in Rogers Hd!y. Idare-
say you recollect the poem in question:
40 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 fer ever so many years
afterwards"
"That is Just the point-where Ginevra
is about to hide herself--thst Theodore Is
trying to illustrate. have sat to him l
don't know how many times already"
"And a very good likeness it is OF you,
my dear And the chest 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 l thought painters
always invented such things out of their
own heads"
The speakers were aunt and niece-the
latter, fair and slender girl of twenty,
with o singularly youthful expression OF
face for one who was both wife and a
mother. The time was half past nine on
certain autumn evening some half dozen
years ago; and the place was a pleasant
uOlilc IOOiu III u St1.hAt Niiid AZ OAC VI
the westerly suburbs of London.
"The mention of those Italian names,
Cyrills," said Mrs. Reece presently. "puts
me in mind of an old admirer of yours,
Signer Pietro Fastini BY the by, do you
know where he now is 3"
mo. Where?" said Cyrilla quickly.
In a lunatic asylum. He went crazy
about a year ago, and has been under re
straint ever since. I don't think You
treated him we'll. Cyrilla, to encourage his
attentions, and then to cast him of in the
way YOU did"
Cyrilla's cheek paled suddenly; she sank
into a chair, and did not speak Cor a 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 affection that
has overtaken him.
Cyrilla sat thinking deeply for some time
after her aunts departure, going, in memo
~, 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 comfortable white wrapper; and I'M
bound her yellow hair letting it fall in a
rich sheaf down her shoulders; for TheO-
dore had gone out tonight to supper
party given by brother artist who was
Oh To ev,fa no holy N mafrImOnv
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
with baby, who, being well behaved
young gentleman, was happily fast asleep
at this late hour. He was deposited in q
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 mysel !.
See that the doors and windows are all
fastened before you 60 up stairs"
When the woman was gone, Cyrilla
stirred up the low fire on the hearth into q
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.
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 it!
walls half hidden with sketches, prints, ano
water colors, with the easel in one corner
and the pianoforte In another; will
Cyrilla's work-basket on a side-table in
company with meerschaum, big ant
brown, and a tobacco jar after the antique
pleasant picture, and one which Theo
dore Thornhurst, artist from the top OF hi:
to note when he should come stepping
lersurely i'm through one of the three
French windows opening on to the lawn
which had Just been draped, ready fo
winter, with curtains of crimson damask
in place of the muslin ones which haC
shaded them through the summer months
Cyrilia read on undisturbed for abou
half an hour, and at the end Of which tim,
baby began to grow restless; so she lai(
down her book, and began to rock the CO
with slow, gentle motion, and at the sam,
time to sing, in q minor key, the exquisit,
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 It's 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 tn,
more readily hear her darling, should b,
awake and cry out Then she sat dowI
again in her husbands easy chair, ant
went on with her novel. But the under
current of her thoughts was with her hus
band; and presently she glanced up at tn,
timepiece on the mantel-shelf, only to dis
! cover. that it had come to dead stop som,
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 lik'
that of friend in her lonely watching
How the words Of that song haunted he
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind Of the western sea-
She was winding up the timepiece slowly
and carefully, and humming the song tt
herself, and as she did sO-what woman
would not have done the same ?-sh'
glanced at the reflection of her own pretty
face in the glass over the chimney piece
She saw her blue-eyed face with its setting
of yellow hair, and the same moment abe
saw something else by no means 80 pleasant
to look upon-something that for one brie
instant caused every pulse of her being to
stand still in silent horror.
There was some one in the room beside
herself What she saw in the glass was the
reflection of hand grasping the crimson
damask curtains that draped the French
f1-srt