Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-05-04
THE YELLOW GATE.
I.-MINERYA's STORY.

Jane Shlu ludl Sue Ndo ODlktu W bO NdlO-
full in avoiding the night air, and would
therefore go home instead of parading
about in the moonlight. The whole state
ment was a fib. Jane did not fear the
damp in the least, and was as fond Of sum-
mer moonlight as any lady of forty-five,
with a bunch of gray curls on either side Of
her thin face, may be permitted to indulge
in soft sentiment. But there are martyrs
who do not walk on heated ploughshares,
or pass through the ire Of other than daily
trials in life. Mnerva's happiness had
been elderly James care from the cradle.
1t was a sultry August evening, render
ed luminous by the full moon; the town Of
Baden Baden lay in the valley twinkling
with stars Of lamps, and inclosed by the
mysterious shadow-land Of Black Forrest
stretching along the slopes of neighboring
hills. Tho Conversation Haus had been
the Gene of gayety for hours; groups OF
Germans bad slipped coffee at the adjacent
cafe; groups of Russians had retained
their striking individuality of race amidst
the travelling English and American
throng; while the towns people inspected
the whole with the shrewd speculation of
the watering-place resident. All the charm
OF Arts most lavish decorations, aided by
the most beautiful setting of Nature, was
still to be found here. The. banquet table
glittered with its ornaments of crystal,
flow ers and rich plae but the viands,
highly seasoned with excitement of gain,
loss, rapture, and swim despair, had been
swept away. Baden Baden, robbed Of its
gambling, yawns now in the summer night.
The M usic waited from that orchestra pa.
vilion, where the gas jets gather to the
semblance Of gigantic bunch OF grapes,
was delightful TO the listening ear. Now
tue softly modulated tones were audible
o My in most subdued harmony, and again
a melancholy horn pealed out a sustained
note that seemed TO wander into the forest
depths seeking the ghostly echo of some
wild huntsman's bugle.
Minerva had been silent, even pensive,
during the evening-a mood not unbecom-
ing fair young widow in weeds, with a
brown curl hanging down her back. Her
bert Wilson al least seemed to sustain him
self in the cleaning by studying her deli
cate profile with little conversation. El-
derly Jane saw it all quite plainly. Min
erva was beauty, and very amiable, with
a surface seldom rippled, because the vel
vet smoothness OF her disposition was rare
ly disturbed. Somebody had been in love
with ber since the age of fourteen, when
the eldest boy in the academy at home had
bought pac kage of candy as a votive Of
fering after behoding her Ia white muslin
and pink ribbons. Elderly Jane could not
understand it, as men were able TO exist
very comfortably without her own society.
Here was this artist, Herbert Wilson, whom
they had met at Rome, traversng the route
| of his predecessors, and discovering real
artistic merit in Minerals sketches of
landscapes, which may have been attribu-
| table to the grace of the amateur, the sweep
OF her silky eyelashes, the delicious hours
spent on the margin of Swiss lakes.
81 hope he may prove as good husband
as poor Harry, for l believe she means 10
marry him. Minerva is weak" reflected
elderly Jane, and rose abruptly from her
seat.
Poor Harry was Minervs's first mate, and
not considered half good enough for her
when lie was alive.
The lovers expressed surprise on learn
ing her decision 10 depart. How anxious
| they we're about her health, and how glad
| TO be rid of her! She was such good old
Jane to feel herself de trop on a moonlight
night, only Minerva must go home with
her-well, at least escort her TO the yellow
gate. Jane smiled rather grimly in the
darkness, and consented. The trio passed
between the rank of booths, brilliant with
gas and stocked with charming trinkets,
aud crossed the wide promenade before the
deserted Trinkhalle; then Jane declared
further escort TO be unnecessary, and sped
along the street where they lodged, alone.
Oh, the glory of the summer night, with
the Lichtenthal Avenue frosty white in the
moonlight, and the noble trees forming a
canopy of foliage far above the head There
was a subtle eoquence in all nature, as
Herbert Wilson and Minerva strolled along
the path together, shielded from all this
world of strangers by closer lie of sym
palhy that both were foreigners-a separate
sphere amidst all these revolving planets.
The artist had roamed from Italy tc
Spain, from Algiers to Cairo, with his port
folio, and was weary, now that the fresh
ness of novelty had worn away. The
widow had wept for poor Harry in all sin
cerity, but that very serenity of tempera'
ment which elderly Jane had fostered sc
long had brought her safely back into deeT
waters again, ailer her ship had stranded
amidst the cruel rocks of sorrow. Wha
more natural than that the artist should
mud in her society repose, and she in hin
-protecion2 The secret had passed from
eye 10 eye in long mutual gaze of reeog
milton, had trembled on their lips, but re
NAMED unspoken because events had no
hastened revelation. The strains of thu
orchestra followed them along the path, thu
laughter OF unseen persons reached then
from shadowy depths of side walks, whil'
their own voices were subdued. Here
space Of smooth lawn stretched, bathed IL