The Portland daily press., 1881-08-01
that Elliott Beesly took up his abode in the

OF French tlnery, and nothing would satisfy
her but an outfit in Paris for the next Lon
don season. Dresses she must have at
Worth's, bonnets at Nine Verot's, while at
the same time she took childish delight in
having her l"rse, aood-tempered person
pushed about and carried along-aS If ton
wheels-by the crowd in the Louvre or he
Bon Marque. The worthy lady delighted in
bargains and was wont to buy cab-loads OF
goods, of which she Won make no use, for
the sim pie reason that they were cheap.
Miss Wood was a you nS lady who pre-
ferred her own taste to anybody eises, and
perhaps she was not far wrong. She de-
signed her own dresses, had them made up
in Baker street, and had been known even
TO have invented hat. She had peculiar
grace of her OWL that had nothing OF the
dressmaker's art in it; and, moreover, there
was something original in he appearance
Tat never bordered on the eccentric. Shop
ping in Paris, then, had few charms for
Violet; so while Mrs. Wood was trying on
mantles and looking at the latest eccentrici-
ty in fans, the daughter was free to wander
in the Luxembourg Gallery, or spend
couple of hours with the Venus of Milo.
1t was thus that Beesly and Violet were
thrown constantly into each others society.
Mr.. Beesly could not be expected to take
more than a moderate interest in bonnets,
and Mrs. Wood was only too delighted for
Violet to have some one to "do'' the gale
ries with.
They had been dawding one afternoon in
the Louvre, and had come down by the
girls special desire into TIE sculpture gallery
to look at what she declared to be her favor
tie statue in the world-the immortal god
dess of Milo
GLOW is it," cried Violet, as she and
Beesly sat looking up at the statue, chow is
that great work--a really great works.
always new? | WONDER" she went Oh,
''how many times l have seen this Venus,
yet she always strikes me as much as the
fist time | saw her. 1t is of sensational
pictures and catching music that one gets so
tired.''
"You might as well say, why will you be
tired of the shape of that hat the day after
tomorrow" smiled Beesly. "One is mere
fashion; we continually alter the shape of
our head cover, but what we cover remains
much the same. A real work of art is, [
suppose, the pith and essence of struggle
after what we conceive to be beautif IL OF
| true. Look at this Venus, now. She af-
fects us perhaps as much as she affected
rem when she was first hewn out of the
book of 1larble.''
"And there she will stand when we little
mortals are dead and buried; just SO, with
that wonderful, inscrutable smile. Think of
the others that will come and look at her as
we have done, feeling, perhaps, just as we
do, the saLle strange, sad feeling" cried
Violet with pretty burst of enthusiasm.
The place was quite empty; in the far dis
| lance the last visitor was gathering down
the long gallery out at the other end. 1t
was already growing dusk.
"You feel that, too; the Indebtedness o.
knowing something beautiful that is beyond
us-out of reuch?' asked Beesly, turning
round to her quickly.
| How strange and dark her eyes burned in
| the twilight; how graceful the subtle lines
of her figure; how devoid of all coquettish-
| ness and consciousness of her pose! The
| dark purple hangings swept behind her, and
| out through the high window the sun was
all red, a-dying in a pinky sky.
She was actually beautiful at the moment,
but she was more than that to Elliott Bees
| ly; she was sweet, breathing woman, who
| opened out world of possibilities
Something-beautiful- of reach?"
repeated Violet, becoming suddenly con-
| scious, under his direct gaze of the meaning
of his words. 81 don't know, Pm sure"
| she stammered.
| He watched how the quick color spread
over the girls face and throat, how her deep
eyes met his with an entreating, startled
| gaze. What fool, ten thousand times a
| fool, was Gretton not to snatch at such
| happiness! Then, with sudden start, he
remembered his friend, and he asked Hill
self what he was doing, looking into this
young lady's eyes.
''Bah! I'm talking nonsense" he said in
| a changed voice. "You must be getting
cold, Miss Wood; had we not better be go
ing home?"
After the above episode Mr. Beesly kept
wisely TO strictly neutral topics with Violet,
and for the next few days contrived that
| the mother of this dangerous syren should
| be in constant attendance. He even
| eVinced hitherto concealed ardor for MILL
merry and insisted upon accompanying Mrs.
| Wood several times to the jewelers. to see
about the setting of her diamonds.
OF course his conduct was mystifying in
the extreme to Violet, who could not help
Noticing his changed manner. What had
she done to offend him? She could no lon
| ger conceal from herself the fact that she
| valued whaJ he thought of her. There was
vein of tenderness in this reserved man,
with his hard mouth and cold gray eye, that
was surprise to her who had been in the
habit of seeing him constantly for the last
eight months. But in London they lad
been differently placed. He had never call
| ed at their house without Andrew Gretton,
and had always stood aside to make room
for the tenor to MARBLE his love songs, or to
drop in mock humility at her feet. She re-
| membered one evening, when she found her.
jself with B esly in the conservatory, he had
| Jumped up on Gretton's approach, and ce.
ded his place to his FREUD. Was she too
silly, too girlish, to please him? she asked
herself. For her experience of men told
| her that they will be inclined to find the
way and means if the object be worth their
| while. All this was true; but his reserve
and coldness had seemed to drop for an in
| slant in the twilight of that afternoon. It
was as if she looked through loop-hote at
some wide vista, of whose existence she had
never dreamed; and once having known the
| view beyond could never be again content
with blank walls.
1t was, therefore. in much perplexity and
nightly questionings that the week went by
for Violet. In the beginning of the next a
| hard frost set in; the air was keen and sharp,
the skaters flocked to the Bots, and the sun
| hung like a red lamp in the sky.
| ooh, mamma, bow should like to skate p
exclaimed Violet, as she appeared for break
fast in the bright little room.
"Well my dear, I've no objection an
swered mamma; ''only you know 1 can't
stand about on the ice, my dear. You must
get Mr.. Beesly to take YOU"
sob, 1 wonder if he would mind going"
said Violet, who perhaps had her doubts
''Do you think Mr.. Beesly skates, man.
map" she went on; 1--WE must 60 and get
skates this morning if he does, and then we
might go this afternoon"
Soft happened that, in spite of Mr.. Beesly's
| precautions against what he regarded as a
culpable weakness in himself, he started out
with Miss Wood for an afternoons skating
| in the Bots de Boulogne.
In the bright, cold daylight and in the
crowd on the ice, things went off entirely TO
Mr.. Beesly's satisfaction. Violet and he
were on exactly the same neutral ground as
they had been all the week. But as the sun
sank, large and crimson into thesmist, and
the twilight grew apace, Beesly could not
help recalling the afternoon in the Louvre
| Perhaps it was only the same effect of light.
Violet could not help noticing that his
hand trembled as he helped her into the
little fiacre that had been waiting for them
| Did he not linger an imperceptible instant
! as he drew another wrap round her should
ers? Why did the long drive through the
Bots and Champs Elysees seem the shortest
drive they had ever taken, and why did Mr.
| Beesly pay the coachman more than double
his fare?
1t occurred to both Of them, why?
''Do not light the candes' said Violet, as
they came into the cosy sitting room. where
the fire was burning brightly; g like the
| freight. This is the incest hour of the
| day, l think'' she continued to Beesly; and