Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1878-03-06

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frescoed church and palace, where
walls and ceilings are brilliant still as
when the hands which wove their gor-
geous stories first laid the pencil down
and thanked God for the great consider
art. | had time to watch the mists
rising from the valleys, and wrapping
the mountains in soft mystery Of cloud
cloud which changes and shifts, and
melts at last into the golden and pur-
pie. the opaline green of the sunrise; so
that might try to wrest from nature a
faint touch of her magic of shadow and
light, of color and form, and lay it at
the feet of the one mistress I had ever
knoWn-art
mans heart-and what | learned was
nothing. [ do not think mine is an i'm
questionable nature. Ihad spent thirty
years in the world and had never loved
any woman until saw Mary Mayne in
the morning light sitting above that Old
gateway; vet in one short week [ had
grown to love her-well, as few women
are ever loved
At the end Of that week there came
a letter from Willie Vereker, saying his
yacht needed some repairs, and he
would put in at Genoa for few days if
his mother could not meet him there
He had been to the east, and she had
not seen him for some time; SO she de-
cided upon going back to Genoa, hoping
the Gwendoline might need more re-
pairing than Willie thought, and keep
him there longer than he expected.
The evening of the day Mrs. Vereker
received that letter I told her of my
love for her niece, and asked permis-
sion to accompany them to Genoa.
She regarded me with an odd look Of
compassion. "Have you spoken to
Mary YETI" she asked.
[ told her [ had not; [ wished TO wait
until we had known each other longer;
[ feared being too precipitate.
"Then," said Mrs. Vereker, II have
right t. tell you anything of
her story. 1t is a sad one, poor child!
and [ warn you, you have little chance
of success. If you choose, you can
come with us to Genoa; but if [
were you, [ should not do so. Save
yourself while you can. You have
known her a very short time. If you
leave us now, you will soon forget her;
later, you may find it a more difficult
task"
l shook my head. The advice came
too late T went with them to Genoa.
The stately marble city had a charm
for us all. Mrs. Nereker had her son,
and the two found marvellous attrac-
tons in the quaint, narrow streets with
HI 10 ,onrfo lc III ri ID
halls, where fountains sparkled and
flung diamonds Of spray round the
brows Of pure, fair statues; where in
the GOODNESS and the shadow, golden
orange trees and thick masses of GRIM
son blossom cleaned with startling
glory.
[ had my idol. Day after day I was
by her side. It was fools paradise,
perhaps; but [ suppose there is such an
Eden in every life; and looking back,
when we have left its short-lived peace,
we vainly long for a single throb of its
rapture. So, during those quiet days at
Genoa, each of us, except Mary Mayne.
had our hearts desire; Willie, the life,
the color, the loveliness he and his
Gwendoline sought in voyages to many
lands; Mrs. Vereker, her son; I, my
new delirious joy. There, on the terrace
where we were standing, [ first spoke to
Mary, and heard her tell me my love
was hopeless. She told me her story.
Her wedding day had been fixed In
year she was to have been married to
a man she loved with her whole heart;
when the war with Russia broke out,
and Gordon Frazer's regiment was or
dered to the Crimea. He and Mary
wished to be married before he left, but
family reasons prevented it, and so they
parted. He had never returned to
England. A soldier brought Mary a
little locket which she had given Cor
don. The ribbon it hung upon was
thickened here and there with deep,
dark stains; and the man said Gordon
Frazer had given it to him to take to
Mary, when the officer lay dying after
the charge at Balaklava. 1t was only
the story Of many an English and
many a Russian girl during that dread
full time. When a strong, self-contained
nature breaks down, it is almost utter
collapse; SO it was with Mary. For
months she lay silent, fearless, listless,
unable to make the slightest exertion,
to take the smallest interest in life. Her
friends thought her brain had suffered
from the shock; and when she recov-
cred sufficiently to travel, Mrs. Vereker
had taken her abroad, where they mad
been moving from place to place ever
since. Her body regained health; she
was now quite strong; but the girls
heart and soul seemed dead: as she
said, dead. and buried in Gordon Fra
zer's grave. Yet as [ listened [ did not
despair. had no living rival he was
dead, this man she loved; while my
heart was beating, living, and strong
with its worship of her. If could
only win her to be my wife, the dead
love would pale and faint before my
real and passionate devotion. So l
hoped, as day by day [ watched her
every look, forestalled her every wish,
until she grew accustomed to my pre-
sence and to rely upon my care. My
hopes were answered; ere long won
her reluctant consent to be my wife, but
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