The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1877-12-22
WESTMINSTER, MD SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22 1877.

brilliant equipages for which the city is "a
NOUS. Back Of this thoroughfare the Borg
Ognissauti rested in shadow. Elena moved
down the latter street, and the gobbo followed
mechanically. His faculties were benumbed,
but vengeance seemed 10 have overtaken him
in the fair shape Of child. Vengeance He
dared not disobey her. Was he glad to cast
the oppressive burden of responsibility on
another. A straw could break his purpose
even now. Arriyingat home, she said, ''Fol-
low me. Do you understandf'
"Yes, assented Alessandro, and began TO
climb the stairs.
The yellow door opened to receive them,
and the next moment Elena stood in the stu
dio, holding the dwarf's sleeve, for fear he
should attempt to run away.
The pent.up excitement of Edward Run
yon and Marietta greeted her in overwhelm.
ing explanations. She was an artist, to be
great some time, and gracious stranger had
bought her sketch for two hundred and fifty
francs. Two hundred and fifty francs--and
Christmas day Elena's cheek changed from
rose pink TO crimson, her eyes sparkled, her
little form dilated with emotion. She kissed
her father, embraced Marietta, then danced
about the room, clapping her hands, laughing
and singing like one delirious. Happiness
does not kill
The dwarf stood on the spot where she had
left him. Presently Elena danced back to
him, patted his shoulder re-assuringly, and
said, with smile, "We are rich now, and
shall paint your portrait; so you must live
here, and bo my model and servant
"Yes," he replied, like one in a dream.
The first ray Of returning hope trembled in
the darkness Of his thought. He was not to
seek the river that night Once he found his
tongue before relapsing into stiffness. "I took
her money in the church for a ''terno'i in the
lottery" he confessed to Marietta, in the
kitchen, later. al can never tell her, though
never. | might go to the priest"
I'VE must see about it all another day.
returned Marietta, pityingly.
The poor little gobbo's tragedy had been
made known to the household in few words.
The girl Elena was whimsical about him. He
was her toy, her Christmas gift. He must be
given glass of wine, and sit in one corner
of the great room. Later there would be a
Christmas supper, and she was to pay for the
feast.
Edward Runyon sat in hisarm- chair. watch.
ing his daughter with certain deprecating
humility. She was not the child Of the
morning. Change had touched her chrysalis.
Opposite sat the dwarf, also following her
hitting movements dreamily. She was not a
vision, spirit The Madona had sent her
instead of-the river. At length she took
bit OF chalk and began to trace a figure on
the wall-the thoughtful head resting on one
hand, the long beard, the flowing robes, the
desk Of San Girolamo. Sudden impulse led
her to that pathetic little shape hudded in
the corner
"That is the saint Of the church, you
know, she explained, as if speaking TO
a young child. To-day will never come
back again"
Edward Ranyon's eyes elouded with sud.
den tears.
Perhaps it was because the bells still
chimed and tinkled from every quarter that
the darkening room seemed filed with shapes
OF other years, amidst which moved the girl
Elena, who with simplest unconsciousness of
noble action, had on this Chritmas-day saved
life, soul.