The Portland daily press., 1876-09-16

Marbury lived In an atmosphere OF great
principles, grand ideas, magnificent concep-
tions. He had contempt for Cyril, Bishop
of Alexandria, because the religious honesty
of that. prelate was questionable. Handy
side Marbury, in threadbare coat, and with
five borrowed dollars in his pocket, sat in
Judgment on Tarquin, last of the kings of
Rome, and think Tarquin had the worst of
it.
So I was very much surprised when he
broke off suddenly in the midst of an eloquent
essay ON Roland and Oliver, Paladins of
Charlemague and asked me about Mrs. Jes-
samine and Mr.. Carter. Had those worthless
stepped down from the facade of the cathe-
dral should not have been more moved.
Ainslie said blushed; why, do not know.
except that incongruity effects the mind
somewhat as outraged modesty is said to, and
anything more incongruous than our seedy
old Turveyd1op and the highly respectable
Mrs. JessamiIe could not conceive.
$50 your elderly belle is the one to be
matched, see," began Mr.. Marbury.
81 thought you cared for no belle since
Cleopatra" answered through my bushes.
81 love fools whenever I see them. They
shall inherit the EARTH" said Marbury. II
have looked on occasionally at your party
(although confess the present is the only
age of the world that do not care for), and
have seen that elderly filtration with pleas
ure aud interest. 1t amuses me to see types
again Octavia, and all the stupid formal fools
who have their weaknesses underneath. Do
you think she will marry Carter?
81 do not know the state of Mrs. Jessa-
mines affections, nor her matrimonial inten-
tions," answered in voice which was in
tended to be severe.
"She is very rich. He will get great deal
of money. He has nothing. She is fool"
said Handysde Marbury, growing flushed
and excited, as he scarcely had done since he
defended Hypatia.
What should he know or care for these
people?
Verona is very poor place to make love
in, in spite of Romeo aud Juliet. Verona is
the Amazon of italian cities. She has stood
at the foot OF the Alps, barring her beautiful
breast to the storm, defending the softer
danes who live further South, for many CEN
turtles. 1 think il has made her hard and I'M
sympathetic. She is beautiful, clear and
cold, like Diana. How splendidly she wears
her coronet Of fortifcations-how goddess
like she is as she bathes her feet in the blue
water of the Adige. She holds the tomb of
juliet in her bosom, not as loving sister,
but as cod moralist, saying, sob, ye mis-
| taken children of passion, see, see, to what
| dust and ashes, red sandstone bath tubs, aud
dried leaves you too are coming, if you love,
as did this foolish Juliet. But like me-cool,
| warlike, bristliDg; wear sandals on your feet
instead of high heeled slippers rosetted. Go
and look at my Amphitheatre where lions
and tigers ate up the young girl. Better for
them, assure you, than matrimony. Go
shake the chair armor around the tombs of
| tine Scaligers. Do you see any monuments
fbaro tn Gaca Grauda'e yuifn to- dp3c
wife? No, we have never cultivated the soft
er emotions in Verona; mistake of Shake
speare's, who was no historian except when
he delineated our little telnpers. l strike my
shield and call to arms, not in the tender but
in the Amazonian sense"
Such is the atmosphere of Verona. It
struck across me, after the gentler impress
sions of Siena, Parma, Bologna, like breath
from the unyielding SHOWS of the Alps.
From all of which fine writing you may draw
the simple truth, which l might have told
three paragraphs back il had chosen-when
we got to Verona Mary snubbed me.
In vain did take her to walk. to the
Cypress Gardens, the tomb of Juliet, to the
haunted shades OF the Amphitheatre. She
was absent-minded, sad, cold, troubled. The
dear abandon to smiles and girlish coquetry,
SO suited to her age and to our rela-
tiens, growing, as thought, more naturally
lover-like, which had made me so happy in
the Pieta, were all gone, and totally I'M
sympathetic being sat at my side.
We were alone in the Amphitheatre; no
spectators but the ghosts of the buried en-
perors looked down on US; and determined
to speak out. 1 cleared my throat-alas
was my phrase properly to be like that of
those poor fellows who came out thousand
years ago, and said: "Te morituri salu-
tant?"
"Mary," SAID I, stretching out my hands
for hers, "why are you SO sad and cold to
me? Are you not my love-my darling-my
life? Has Hammerstein stolen you from me,
or has Ainslie won you away, with his gilt
tering generalties? Tell me, Mary, you have
not misunderstood me, am sure. Have
misunderstood you?"
She looked me mournfully in the face
'Charleton,' said she, Il can explain moth
ing, except that this acquaintance of ours
must stop here. Forgive me if I have given
you any reason to hope. l ought never to be
young, and loving and frivolous. I am
called to other paths. Nay, should not
have taken your ring, given though it was in
light moment of friendship-not at all as
love gage"
Here she blushed deeply; and she took off
the ring with the two llons-she as red as the
ruby in the eye of the lioness. I looked at
her long and earnestly. She did not look at
me nor relent one moment from the cold, sad,
distracted gaze on the ground; her bushes
died away into cold palor. 1t was chilling
enough. but it did not entirely freeze me. I
saw if she did not love me, that she loved no
other man. Her absorption was of another
kind.
"May ask if your aunt has anything to do
with your present feeling Mary ?'' said I.
"You may ask me nothing" said she.
''Yes, l shall ask you TO keep the ring, if
but for that day in the Pineta."
She looked at me moment, with gle am
In her eye which gave me hope and extended
her hand.
'Put it on again, if you please Mr.. Charlie
ton. shall be sorry to part with it. l have
a superstitious regard for it. The old ring
has power in it; and if you will respect
my conditions, will keep it,"
II will promise anything you say" said I,
for by this time her small white hand was in
mine.
'Then promise not to ask why do any
thing; why l am sad. Let our acquaintance
be the generous and unquestioning thing it
has been, or let us part.'
put the ring on her hand, and kissed it
once more As did so the old lion caught
my eye. By Jove, what a splendid express
ion that old fellow hadi He looked at me as
one of his kind may have looked at a mus
cuidr CnrlStlan. was IL warning OF encOur-
agement?
She walked away alone, and sat an hour
dreaming in the silent ampitheatre, and then
/ walked-not into one of the dens of wild
beasts, but the next thing 10 It'll went to
Sc Mrs. Jessamine.
Why had not thought of that before Per-
haps Mary's pride was alarmed at my infor-
NAL wooing. perhaps, poor, sighted, depend
ent that she was, she had the pride, and the
senstiveness of poverty. She had been so
much of queen to me, that l had never
thought of that view of the subject. 1t seemed
10 me as if Mrs. Jessamine was simply hate
full chain, to be shaken off whenever and
wherever Mary chose to take me as her sec
ond self Men as absorbed as l was may well
make such mistake. Then l had nay natu-
raj jealousies of Ainsle and Hammerstein.
Ainslie made his engagement to another
woman a sort of shield to his platonic atten-
tons to Mary; as much as to say, "Come, 60
with mel am safe, you know" But Ain
sie was far from safe. His brilliant talents,
his enchanting manners, his devoted service,
something about him which Immediately
confessed to woman that he felt her power,
his remarkable beauty, and his utter unscru-
pulousness, made him very dangerous man.