The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1882-09-01

to write to my father and to Mrs Clark,
and hear from them regularly. I never
wrote to Lucy, nor she to me, but
heard of her. She went to London the
year after left, and was presented al
court, and there was great deal of COM
pany at the Hall during the autumn and
winter. / used to scan those letters
which spoke Of her as if they we're enig-
mas, trying to extract some hidden
| meaning from them. Sometimes ]
fancied there was some covert allusion
to her being mindful Of me through all
these scenes OF pleasure, sometimes
felt racked with jealousy of some mag
mary admirer of hers.
cat length I got letter from my
father, telling me of her serious illness,
and then another from him saying that
he heard the doctors had ordered her to
winter in Italy. Between these letters
I had one from Mrs. Clark, mentioning
4 that Lucy had been ordered to leave
England for a time, and that hence ]
must not expect any more letters until
she and Lucy returned home, for that
during her absence Der time would be
fully occupied. She wrote very kindly,
but / felt sure that the reason of her moi
writing to me again was that Mr.. Clark
objected to my knowing that Lucy was
to be in Italy.
How very dreary that winter was, in
spite Of all the golden dreams OF youth,
fosered by all the poetical and romantic
teachings OF nature, art and history,
W tn which the very air of Italy is cleo
tfic
81 became SO restless that in the
sprlng [ left Rome for Florence. / had
II YER copied in the galleries there, and
Thought it would be new source of
interest to me to do so.
some day [ was seated in front ofthat
beautiful portrait of Caterina Cornaro.
A sweet, sad face and graceful figure,
the bodice of the dress embroidered til
gold aud jewels, and the neck loaded
with chains of pearls; magnificent
tiers laid on their fair owner by the
Venetian republic when the Senate
sold her beauty to the King of Cyprus,
leaving her noble lover, young Loren
dauo, to die raving. was copying this
picture and was greatly interested in my
work. Many persons passed through
the room and some paused to look at my
painting, so that I took little notice of
the fact that some one was standing be-
hind me, until heard my name pro-
nounced in never-forgotten voice.
6 1t was Lucy, and alone She was
taller and more womanly than when I
left her, but the same Lucy still.
"She told me that she and her mother
were in Florence, waiting for her father
to ioip them; that she had spent the
winter in Sicily, and that her health was
better, but that her mothers health was
failing rapidly.
she said that Mrs. Clark was in an
adjoining room resting, and that must
go to see her. There was calm power
about her manner that surprised me,
but she had lost none of her sweetness.
Before we turned from the picture [
was copying she asked me whose por-
trait it was. I told her, and she said
$3.50 that is the face of the woman
who let herself be bought and sold by a
King and Senate, and not only herself
but the man who loved her, and for
whom she cared, too, in some pitiful
sort of way She could not have loved
him. or she would have taught those
naughty Senators that there was some
thing prouder and stronger than even
their pride.
Mrs. Clark received me with tears.
l could see that she was very much
broken, and that she was completely I'M
der her daughters dominion, although
Lucy used her power gently. She did
not ask me to go to see them, but she
said she would often come to see me at
my work, and she made some weak
little excuse for not inviting me to their
hotel.
CATER that saw her and Lucy every
day at the gallery, and Lucy often man
aged to be alone with me- We never
spoke of our mutual affection, but we
felt it, and words were not needed be-
tween us, even to explain why we did
not speak of it. We lived in an atmos-
phere of our own. We knew. that our
happiness could not last long, but this
only intensified our appreciation of it,
and rendered each moment of it doubly
precious, while a concentration of
thought, feeling and of the expression
of both, grew out of our conviction. It
seemed as if years of intimate knowledge
of each other must be and were COM
pressed in those few weeks.
"One day | was sitting at my easel,
when woman approached me and gave
me letter. 1t was from Lucy. She
told me that her father had arrived, and
that she was to leave Florence at once.
She told me that her mother was toe
feeble for her to be able to venture upon
any assertion of her own wishes as tc
corresponding with me, for that if hel
father knew she had been permitted tC
meet me constantly his anger would be
excessive. Sue said that l might write
to her once, and give the letter to the
wife of the porter of the hotel where she
was staying.
II did so. l poured out my soul in
that letter, and she sent me an answer
which | got after she left Florence.
have got it Ill; in all my wanderings il
has never left me. Yet it told me there
was no hope, only that she would be
forever faithful to me, and called on
me to trust her through absence and
silence.
"My energy tagged, but I whipped
myself mp. determined to be worthy
OF her, and hoped that perhaps NIGH
win her; but six months after this my
father died suddenly, and 1 reeled under
the blow. l lost not only him, but the
last chance of hearing anything of Lucy
for, since our meeting at Florence, Mrs
Clark had ceased altogether to write tx
me,
"Mv student DAYS were past. and The
sum OF money Mr.. Clark had generously
given me was expended; but had 8
small fortune left to me by my father
quite enough for me to feel indie,
pendent.
sc 1t is hard to work at art at all sue.
cessfully when ones brain is in constant
need of urging to do it's best. In the
excitement which follows any great
shock which, while shattering an actua
happiness, yet appeals stro ely to The
Imagination, a mind deeply imbueG
with artistic feeling is likely to find its
powers abnormslly increased; but re-
action is only too likely to set in wher
the imagination has to be excited by the