Omaha daily bee., 1874-08-20

iSpl Z W laISC a ullIiulC Idll pN
hand" She declared she could no
endure the thought of
SUCH COARSE THINGS.
"Mother is going to take summer
boarder, Bell" said Mark, one day
"He's a portrait painter, / believe
or some fellow like that. He
coming out here to fish, and study
ideal heads he's got in his owl
head.n
"What's he like? asked Bell"
go! a useless fellow, wasting idle
days, 1 guess, He reads poetry, and
is of the literary sort"
"GoodW said the beautiful wife,
"Then at last I shall meetsomebody
in this fOrlorn corner who cares fol-
something that I do. 1 shall be SO
glad"
Mark sighed again, but this time
there was the ghost of a smile along
with the sigh. They were drifting
apart, and yet he and his beautiful
city wife had not been married six
months.
The "summer boarder" came, a
lazy, good-looking artist, exceeding
ly intelligent, exceedingly polished
in his manners. He and Bell be-
came good friends. They took pleas
anl walks together while Dame Has
call was churning, and Mark was
working in the field. They read
poetry and philosophy together till
Bell began to be bright and enima-
ted again.
otis quite like old times" she
said to Mark. "Now Tve found
somebody at last who is like my
own set, the friends 1 used to know
before l came to this dull, old
place."
Mark frowned. at seems to me,
Mrs. Hascall, that you would like to
forget entirely that you've got a
husband" he said, dryly.
"Oh, dear, no! But you are no
company to me now any more, you
know"
This time Mark diGn't sigh. He
frowned darkly, and muttered some
thing Bell couldn't hear, though it
sounded savage.
Summer heightened into autumn,
but the boarder still fingered, and
one day a neighbor remarked to
Dame Hascall that her daughter-in-
law and her boarder seemed very
much
PLEASED WITH EACH OTHERS CoM-
PANY.
So they were. One morning they
sat on a h~alf-shaded bank, reading.
Bell was radiant in her grey autumn
dress and soft shawl. The artist
looked at her with unmistakable
admiration, as he laid down the
book and said:
"Mrs. Hascall-there isl beg
your pardon, but how did you ever
happen to marry your husband and
settle down in this desolate spot?
Believe me, you did yourself a griev-
Gus wrong when you buried your.
self alive here"
Sometimes l begin to think 1
made a mistake" SAID Mrs. Hascall,
gloomily.
"Mistakew echoed the artist.
"You have thrown your life away.
| wash-Mrs. Hascall 1 must paint
you before I go. Ihave been look
ing for a face which would be my
ideal of Tennyson's Maud. for
months. The moment [ saw your
face, 1 said to myself, here Is my
Maud"
He picked up the book again.
''This is how l should paint you,
Lady Maud. Listen":
"Cold and c~lear-cut face, why come you so cru
ely meek ?
Breaking a slun. Der in which all spleenful
folly was drowned,
Pale with the golden beam Of an eye!ash dead
on the cheek.
Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a
gloom Profound
A strong, sudden hand parted
some bushes near them, a tanned,
wrathful face, with white teeth
cleaning through the sun-burnt
beard, glowered at them, and a
wrathful voice exclaimed
"P'raps you'd like to paint her
husband, too, wouldn't you? Dins-
more, if you want to know why she
married me, and threw her life
away, I'd recommend you to ask
me. BY the Lord Harry! madam,
l should think you'd be ashamed Of
yourself, dawdling away your time
with a sentimental donkey like
that, and letting your husbands
mother wait on you like a slave.
Bell, go home"
She looked at him a moment as if
she could have struck him down, so
much passion shotout of her blazing
eyes. He never thought it was in
her. But she recollected almost
instantly that it was unphilosophical
a well as unlady-like, to let the Old
Adam rise in her soul. She looked
at her irate lord a second and an
swered, Jelly:
"Mr. Hascall, perhaps you over
heard me remark, a moment age,
that / sometimes feared 1 had made
a mistake. Allow me to remark
now that u,
I AM SURE I HAVE MADE A MIS-
TAKE.n
He swore savagely, and turned
on his heel and strobe away. He
did not come to dinner, mol to tea.
A little after midnight something
came tumbling and kicking at the
front door, and the something was
Mark Hascall, and, for the first
time in his life, Mark Hascan was
heavily intoxicated. It is a mans
way, you know.
(1o be Csntinued.)