The Portland daily press., 1872-03-23
SELECTED STORA.
An Illustrated Rebus.

voluntarily to put a stray lock aside, 10 settle
her bows and fallals, ''to see how she look
ed,'' in short; not that Sne was especially
vain of the ripple of yellow hair, of the ripe
red lips and smiling eyes, but because-be-
cause it was Philip Ingerson coming across
the lawn He came in like west wind. o.
you'll spoil your eyes yet over that worst
ed-work," he said, taking Violet's embroidery
out of her hands, and filling in wrong stitches
with the wrong color.
Dear meH she cried, "you're just spoil
ing my cushion cover! / shall have to pull it
all out, unless you make something pretty.
Il shall make something beautiful, depend
upon it. This cushion is to be OF random or
MOSAIC WORK, | have understood, and your de-
sign ANYTHING that fancy or feeling dictates !!
Now. intend to add few stitches, and you
will pull them out at your peril. want an
interest in this cushion; and when my part
is complete, if it doesn't please you, why, say
sop For half dozen afternoons or more,
Philip stopped to conquer worsted-work, ard
finish his random design upon the cushion.
'"There," said he, otis given me head
ache! What's good for headaches, Miss Vlo-
let?'
~ 'sPaulinia powders, peace, and pillow"
aPut your hand on my head, and feel how
hot it is"
s'That comes of such close application. l
declared Where did you learn to do worsted-
enough to startle the strong-minded."
Natural talent; that eye speaks, Come,
who's for gallop through the woods to-day,
to the tune of the wind? I'll have the horses
round in no time"
II can't CO." said Maud; ''don't tempt
me''
''But you will, Violet?"
eyes, l will. was just thinking that
these Indian summer days were too few and
fair to waste indoors" 81
sCome, then; we will Oft across the river,
and into Folly-Mill Woods"
Violet ran to put on her hat and habit,
while he ordered the horses, and they set of
in the best of spirits, the wind rrftiing her
yellow hair and tossing the purple plumes OF
her hat, the bloom deepening upon her cheeks
till she looked like some brilliant flower.
Crossing the bridge, they saw the fishing
boats putting out across the bar, the pleasure
seekers idling the afternoon away in golden
leisure; then they pushed on, leaving the riv-
err with its shifting shadows, and changing
scenes, behind them, and plunged into the
heart of the woods. What echoes of their
words and laughter haunted the stiffness
there long after they had passed on! Had you
met them in any of the forest paths, you
would have been reminded of some Old World
romance, some page Of the poets, to which
the fantastic shapes and blended colors of the
wood lent marginal illumination. Under
meath them the pine needles spread a carpet
everywhere the pines themselves shed an odor
of frankincense, their boles wreathed with
wild vines dropping leaves like hearts blood
all the lavish tints of autumn, beckoned into
more enchanting distances, wove gay garlands
along the way, while through netted boughs
overhead the blue sky laughed down indul-
gently, and sunbeams touched even dead
twigs into beauty. rrfI 81
"If one could only write all the poems that
the autumn woods inspirer' said Ingersoll.
SITS like tune, you know, which sings it.
self in your brain, but eludes the voice" He
idly dashed spruce-tree that grew close to
the path as he spoke; the action startled Vic
let's horse, and he threw her before she had
time to cry out. Philip Ingersoll was off his
horse in trice-his heart beating hotly in
his bosom, seeing that she neither moved nor
spoke; and lifting her, he found that she had
fallen against projecting point of stone, and
her face was mass of cuts and bruises. He
got her home with the help of some men
who were telling timber in the wood, and
called the doctor, who declared that the Gre
clan nose of Violet S!a:re was broken, and
her lovely cheek would always carry the scars
of ragged wounds. ..... .,.,..-t,
In a few weeks, however, Violet was up
and about as usual, but she saw nobody at
home, and declined invitations abroad. When
she walked out, she was disguised behind
thick wells. Though nobody would ever
guess was Violet Starre-I am sufficiently
disguised already" she said to herself She
seldom walked in the thoroughfares, but in
nnirequented lanes ne a.. and by-ways. One day
she was met by Philip Ingersoll in her solita-
ry stroll, whom no amount of thick wells could
deceive.
''Violet," said he, "yOu never allow me to
see you now. l see Maud and your mother,
and any one but yourself. haunt your door
like shadow. Do you mean to get you to a
nunnery?"
81 never thought of it; but it wouldn't be
SO bad now; l shouldn't frighten any one
there"
s'Violet, you will always be lovely to me-
''Wait till you see me without my veil, sir
no compliments till Them
''Well, do you remember the yelled lady in
Hawthorne's sBlithedale?''
''Whom Theodore was not brave enough tC
trust? Yes.'
''Well, am drawer than Theodore; say
that 1 may SEE you when 1 come again"
1T it will be any pleasure, yes; IsuppOse
it looks vain to hide away. But somehow-it
may be silly-but would rather look vain
than ugly" In Ia
81 cannot imagine you in such plight
''Then you had better not come"
81 never surrender ground once ceded."
When he acted upon this permission he
found Violet busy over her random-work
cushion, with an od-fashioned screen OF
white silk embroidered in palms and pansies
standing in a carved rosewood frame before
her.
''The light troubles my eyes," she said, in
apology; they are not quite strong yet - but
he observed that as they sat together with
their accustomed familiarity she constantly
shifted it between them.
''Come," said he, sit is the light of my
axrac do z1lac r
the screen follows" ~E "a A SAE6
'No," said Violet, laughing constrainedly
sit is the light of other days, I guess"
"The light of other days, Violet was not
one whit more dazzling to me than that of the
present. he said, going to her side, and drop
ping his voice to an under-tone. rQ La
"Thanks-but do not feel it necessary to
make polite speeches to me. Sey how IA
mOuSly | am getting on with my mosaic cush-
ion. Won't it be a splendid 'muddleT What
queer color you made this star of yours !!
It's the violet star that poets rave about, isn't
it? Pm going to match it with a fame-color-
ed sum- ..s..
81 hope you recognize my other effort of
art as an old acquaintance of yours ?"
(Which? This little imp? What is he do
ing? Shooting angels to make potpie, as
Mrs, Hurd thought she had confirmed hab-
it OF doing when she went to the asylum?
mistook him for a comet at first, or a heaven
ly body"
''He is heavenly body and though he re-
sembles an interrogation point with his wings
as much as anything, thought his bow and
arrow would speak for him." ~
''Oh, the little blind god, to be sure r'
eyes; none so blind as those who won't
see."
Having broken the ice of Violet's reserve,
Mr.. Ingersoll never gave it time to skim over
again, but presented himself almost daily He
always took his position now on the other
side of the screen, where the two sat, With
drawn from observation, in world of their
own. The family called the space behind the
screen "Violet's reception room," but no
other person was admitted there. 1t made a
sort of barrier between the other persons in
the room and the lovers, in whose shadow
they could pass and take glances full OF signi-
ficance, words full OF tenderness; there he
held her silks and wound her worsteds, and
drew grotesque pictures in her pocket diary,
and made absurd records of events that had
never occurred, and wrote impromptu love
verses, and talked as lovers will, of any thing
or nothing. He brought her great Towering
plants to hang in her window, dropping a
hundred sprays OF bloom, and breathing out
prefume with every current of air; he brought
her the quarterlies, and read to her while She
worked on her cushion; he lowered the shade
to suit her eyes, arranged her hassock, shifted
the screen, and was in all things hers to COM
mand. Every action, every look, expressed
devotion, declared that no chance nor change
could ALLEVIATE his regard. By degrees he