The Portland daily press., 1880-05-31

| NOlCt, SOHlcMudJ ONtIuTtSScu III clOuuS Ol
| pale blue gauze. She appropriated Leslie
| throughout the evening" which passed pleas
| antly enough, though they saw no more of
Angel, nor was the slightest aluson made
| to her.
Next morning, finding that visitors did
| pretty much as they felt inclined till lun-
cheon, Leslie, whse pet amusement was
| sketching, set off with the orthodox easel.
| color-boxes, and white umbrella to paint
| certain ''bit'' in the woods not far off. A
stretch of rudy cliff and quivering burning
sky, with snowy sails unfurled on heat
| becalmel sea, seen through a vista of sill
yer beeches and gnarled oak, whose over
| reaching boughs framed in the whole and
| formed the coolest, most suggestive fore
| ground. Leslie had been struck by the
| beauty of the spot on the previous evening
| and his whole mind was soon so well in the
| work that he scarcely noticed footsteps ap-
preaching through the underwood till they
came to full stop behind him. On look
| ing round, he saw Angel Treherne gazing
at him with a perplexed expression.
| "Good morning. she said in doubtful
tone; II hope you will not mind my coming
here too: am in the middle of sketch or
[ would not disturb you."
Leslie jumped up and took off his hat.
| Good morning, Miss Treherne. l would
offer to give up my sketch and leave you in
undisturbed possession; as it is, if you will
put up with my presence, perhaps may be
| allowed to finsh''
Angel did not answer; she was standing
| before Leslie's drawing. cycling it with evil
dent pleasure. Leslie looked at her, sur
prised at the change since yesterday, and
thought the unknown arthur not so
| strange fellow after all, to choose to be-
stow his heart on this eccentric young per-
son. Not that she looked pretty but she
| was picturesque with the Pickering shad-
| ows playing on her white morning dress.
with its black ribbons and the bunch of
| autumn leaves and berries in her brooch.
| she held shady black hat in her hand, and
the light fell on well shaped head. The
masses of hair that appeared so uncanny
| yesterday; were gathered into a Hebe-like
| knot low down her neck, and only straw
| curls clustered tenderly round the low fore
head and little ears.
SHOW good your sketch is, Mr.. Fame!
liked mine very much till you came, but
| yours is so much better!'
For the first time she looked from the
| painting full at him with such a quiet,
steady pair of blue eyes, he could scarcely
| believe this was the Lorelei of yesterday.
| Pm glad you like it. Will you let me see
yours?'
Certainly" She handed him the can
vas she had been unpacling, as she spoke.
1t was sufficiently clever to be effective. But
| Leslie saw she had not had much teaching;
saw also that, although inferior to her in
many ways, he might give her many useful
| hints, but felt that he had no right to inter-
fere, and after moment handed it back
with few polite words. Angel took it from
| him, and both went on for some time in in
dustrious silence. At last Angel said
"You did not like my sketch. much Mr..
Fame. Is it so very faulty?'
''Faulty? Pardon me. Why should you
imagine thought so? I assure you I have
felt envious of your artistic talents.''
eyes, but you see how few lessons have
had; my style is faulty, and the coloring
| crude"
Leslie smiled. ''You are so honest, Miss
| Treherne, you force one to tell the truth! I
did think that with your powers you might
do better. Would you don't think me i'm
| pertinent) -but would you mind my giving
you one or two hints that think might help
| you?"
| Angel rose with delighted haste
"Oh you are kind! 1 do thank you so
much. No one has ever troubled themselves
about my wretched daubs before, beyond
buying them from charity and hunting up
convenient garnet wherein to hang them for
| the benefit of rats and spidersH'
He took her place and began to point out
fault there or an improvement here; so
kindly and with such tact that Angel felt
| it would be worth while to work under such
| master. The morning passed quickly, and
| both were astonished at the distant sound of
| the bell ringing for luncheon. The after
noon turned out wet. The party was forced
| to seek amusement indoors-the gentlemen
| taking possession of the billiard room while
the ladies gossiped energetically over their
crewels and embroidery, till five o'clock tea
l ID Al. Ill 4
| opening out of the great, dusky MUSHROOM.
81 vote we get upa concert" cried Will
| Treherne, finding that conversation tagged
as twilight came on.
cts too much trouble to get the music
room Lit up" said Celia, who, having Leslie
by her side, had no wish to move.
ooh, we won't have the room lit up, that
will be the fun of it. A sort of moonlight
concert-only there doesn't happen to be
| moon just now"
| Celia would have objected-she did not
| excel in playing from memory-but popular
| feeling was strongly in favor of the proposal,
| SO she rose to open the concert, and Leslie,
as in duty bound, followed herinto the dim,
uncertain light. of the mushroom. This
reused all her energies; she determined that
young Fame should not see her eclipsed by
certain ugly little cousin of hers, who was
the possessor of divine gift that nature for
the least deserving. So she played her best,
and gained much applause by really taste
full rendering of some of Memberships
'Leider." Leslie was delighted, and she
played one after another, till her quick wit
told her it was bad policy to monopolize the
piano. She rose and returned to the bou-
doir, whereupon the younger Trehernes
with one accord cried:
'Now Angel must sing mo one who hasn't
heard Angel knows what real singing is"
Angel looked uneasily toward Celia, who
she knew disapproved of her coming into
notice. To her surprise, however. Celia's
smile was quite amable if little forced
What was this plain, moneyless cousin, even
though she did sing tolerably, beside her
brilliant beauty? Poor thing; music was
her only gift-let her use it.
So Angel took her place in the music room
No one followed her into the dim twilight.
Not that Angel cared for this. AS she seated
herself at the instrument she ran her fingers
dreamily over the keys, thinking nothing at
all of her audience, only of certain dimly
lighted church she had loved years ago in
Italy; of the acolytes swinging their fragrant
censers; of the kneeling figures half hidden
in the gloom, praying earnestly before some
shrine. She heard the low monotonous
chanting of the priest, and then the people
flocked in, the organ pealed and echoed
along the marble columns, and through the
ever-deepening twilight came the passionate
pleading save Maria gratia plena-ora pro
nobis?" Unconsciously she began singing
it; her voice rose and fell, and rose again
it was no mere song, it was a human cry,
prayer sent forth to the great God himself,
that He would hear and care for His chill
dred, "Nunc, ct in bora norris nostra.'
Her audience listened spellbound till the
final notes died away in one last, almost Sob
bling Gave Maria;'' and then there were not
many dry eyes in the room. There was a
long silence. At last Will said, ''Come, An
gel, that's grand! But it's rainy day, old
lady, and that somehow gives one the
blues"
And then that unaccountable young wo-
man, without any hesitation, dashed off in
to lively Neapolitan song. Leslie had felt
ready to worship the woman who had prayed
her evening hymn so grandly, and had for
gotten she was poor and plain and eccentric,
and now her easy change of mood Jared up
on him as almost profane, and he did not
join heartily in the storm of applause that
followed, nor in the entreaties for just one
song more. But Angel was obdurate; more
she could not, or would not sing, and now