The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1875-01-13

that gloomy point, where the scenery is
all obscure, nothing bright but the great
moon itself; and that shines right in your
face"
"They could not look otherwise than
they did" he argued, his own tone sound
ing melancholy enough.
"Well, well, suppose it is the fate of
genius" returned Maria. al was read>
ing lately, in French work, some account
of the life of Leonardo da Vinci. He was
not happy man."
"He was called Da Vinci.the Unhappy.
How many of his brethren might have
been called SOP"
"Were l you / should not make up my
mind to be one of them; 1 should be just
the contrary" said Maria gayly. Fancy
goes a great way in this life. And So"
she added, after pause, ''you think some
of the queer old temples in Italy must
look like that?' pointing to the Folly.
How l wish could see them"
'How ! wish zoe could see themP he
murmured-"that we could see them to-
| getherta'
Perhaps he wondered whether he had
said too much. She did not check him
only turned, and moved back towards the
drawing-room, her arm within his.
ave may see them together" she said,
at length. "You will, Of necessity, visit
Italy; /, of inclination, and we may meet
there. l hope we shall know you in af-
ter life, Mr.. Raby; but of that there will
be little doubt. Everybody will know
you, for you will be one of England's ia
nous painters"
They reached the window, and he took
her hand in his, though there was no
necessity, to assist her over the low step;
he kept it longer than he need have done.
Not for the first time, by several, had he
thus clasped it in the little courtesies of
life. Oh, Raby Rabyl can you not see
that It had been much better for you to
clasp some poisonous old serpent? He
did not enter, but turned away.
Lady Saxonbury was in the room then,
in her easy chair which had its back to
the window. The tea was on the table,
and Miss Saxonbury began TO pour it
out
my DEAR" cried Lady Saxonbury, a
supplemented, kind woman, where's
that poor painter? l daresay he would
like some tea"
"He was on the terrace just now" re-
piled Maria.
"He must feel very dull" resumed
Lady Saxonbury. II fear, child, we neg
lect him. Send one Of the servants to ask
him to come in"
"The poor painter" lost in the antici-
pations of the time when he should be a
rich one, was leaning against the ratings.
whence he had stood and gazed abroad
with Miss Saxonbury,-the purse she
had given him lying in his bosom. In
the last few weeks his whole existence
had changed, for he had learnt to love
Maria SaXonbury with a wild passion
ate love. To be near her was bliss, even
to agitation; to hear her speak, set his
frame trembling; to touch her hand, sent
his hearts blood thrilling ttrvugiriri5-
veins. 1t is only these Imaginative. un.
earthly natures, too sensitive and refined
for the uses of common life, that can tell
of this intense, pure, etherealized passion,
which certainly partakes more of heaven
than of earth. He stood there, indulging
a vision of hope-a deceitful, glowing Wis.
ion. He saw not himself as he was, but
as he should be-the glorious painter, to
whose genius the whole word would bow
Surely there was no such impossible bar
rier between that worshipped painter and
the daughter of Sir Arthur Saxonbury.
Alas for the improbable dream he was
suffering himself to nourishl alas for its
fatal endingl Three or four weeks more
of its sweet delusion, and then it was
rudely broken. Mr.. Yorke, a relative of
Sir Arthur's, and the heir presumptive of
his estate, arrived at Saxonbury. He
had been named Arthur MAR, after Sir
Arthur. Raby Werner recognized him,
for they had been at Christ Church to-
gether, but he had not recalled him to
memory since, and had never known him
as the relative of Sir Arthur Saxonbury.
He was tall, strong, handsome young
fellow; but ere he had been two days at
SaXonbury, a rumor, or suspicion, lin the
agitation of Raby's feelings he hardly
knew which, reached the artist that his
visit was to Maria, shat she was intended
calm and lovely as the one when they had
looked forth together at the Folly, the
truth became clear TO Raby.
They were seated in the drawing-room.
all the family, when Maria stepped on to
the terrace, and the artist followed her.
Presently Arthur Yorke saw them pacing
it together, Raby having given her his
arm. Mr.. Yorke drew down the corners
of his lips, and stalked out.
"Thank you," he said to Raby, with
freezing politeness, as he authoritively
drew away Maria's arm and placed it
within his own; 81 will take charge of
Miss Saxonbury if she wishes to walk"
He strobe away with her, and Raby,
with a dropping head and sinking heart,
descended the middle steps of the terrace
He stole along under cover of its high
wall-anywhere. to hide himself and his
outraged feelings That action, those
words of Mr.. Yorke's, had but too surely
betrayed his interest in Maria. He came
| to the end of the terrace, and found
they had halted there, right above h i'm.
He was to hear worse words now, and he
! could not help himself
'Then you had no business to do it
you had no right to do it" Maria was
saying, in petulent tone. ale was not
going to eat me, if did walk with him."
Excuse me, Maria, l am the best
judge. Raby was in the position of a
gentleman once, but things have changed
with him."
Rubbish" retorted Miss Saxonbury.
"He is papa's guest; and he is as good as
you A gentleman once, a gentleman al
ways"
81 am not saying he is not a gentleman.
But he is no longer in the position OF
one"
"He was born'and reared one; he will
always be one; quite as much as you are"
persisted Maria, in her tantalizing spirit
"Well, | don't care then, to put my OBJ
/ lection that score Rut II ic not auraa-