The Osceola times., 1885-02-28
her hands in his, while the loye-light OF

her hands in his, while the loye-light OF
happiness sprang to her eyes.
What little remains to be told may be
told after very brief fashion.
Cluaie got the great desire of her life
rich husband who never thwarts her
in anything. Captain Dyson achieved
one of the desires of his life-a runaway
wedding. Mr.. Pebworth was distracted
at first, but extended q magnanimous
forgiveness to the newly-married cou-
pie on their return from their honey
moon. Captain Dyson came down hand
somely in the way Of settlements; but
to this day he can not understand why
his wife, who had hitherto been one Of
the most complaisant listeners. changed
so suddenly and unaccountably. and re-
fused. point-blank. to listen to any more
of his narratives. even going so far on
one occasion as to impugn the accuracy
of his memory and to make use of the
words: "Stuff and rubbish" The little
man spends much of his time at his
club. but Melancholy has marked him
for her own. He has the look of man
habitually careworn and depressed.
Now and then, a CLEAN of happiness re-
visits him-when he can button-hole o
stranger good d-natured enough to listen
to him while he narrates some of the
surprising adventures of his early life.
Young Tom M'Murdo, whose state Of
chronic impecuniosity is no secret, eats
many good dinner at the Captains
expense, and borrows many a sovereign
t.-an inl ha tal -. Ia,
never TO repay-and all because he is
the best OF listeners, and never even
hints the shadow of doubt as to the
truth of what is being told him. 1t has
never dawned on the consciousness OF
Captain Dyson, and probably never
will, that in him Nature created bore
of the first magnitude.
One morning very soon after the
picnic Mr.. Pebwortt intimated that
business of Importance would take him
to Liverpool. He had not been many
hours in Liverpool before he tele-
graphed that the business which had
taken him to that city would take him
still further-as far even as to America.
Mrs. Pebworth was delighted the voy-
age would be quite holiday for Alger-
non. and the sea-breezes could not fail
to benefit his health. But Mr.. Peb-
worth's business, whatever the nature
of it might be, evidently required long
time to bring it to conclusion. Month
after month passed away. and Mr..
Pebworth wrote home that he still
found it impossible to return. At
length, at the end of year and half,
as if disguised with the whole affair, he
diedy so that in all probability the busi-
ness which took him so far will remain
unsettled till doomsday. His widow
mourned for him in all sincerity To
her he had ever seemed the best of hus-
bands aud the best of men; and nobody
has been cruel enough to try to unde-
ceive her.
Within q week of the picnic Dick
Drummond was back in his old rooms
in Soho. which had found no tenant
during his absence. At first he felt
wretchedly dull and lonely without
Frobisher; it seemed as if he had lost q
part of himself, which nothing could
replace; but Leyland looked in every
other evening or so to cheer him up, on
which occasions they smoked innumer-
able pipes together and discoursed on
every subject under the sun. A few
other BohemiaDs would drop in occa-
sionally, for Dick could now afford to
keep open hodse, and many a song WAS
sung and many merry story told at
such times in the dingy old rooms. But
neither to Dick nor Frohisher would the
wheel of life have seemed TO run pleas
antly unless they had been able to see
each other often.
1t was but an hours journey from
Waylands, and Frobisher himself was
frequently in town. His old easy chair,
his old meerschaum, and hearty grip
of the hand. always awaited him in
Soho. Occasionally, Elma would call
with him, at which times Dick would
put down his brush and palette for the
day, comb out his golden locks, don
another coat and go in generally for
high iinks.
But Waylsnds did not fail to see Dick
frequent visitor. 1t was understood
that he should spend from Saturday to
Monday there-or longer for the mat
ter of that as often as he should feel so
inclined, and, summer or winter, few
week-ends passed without seeing Dick
exchange the smoke of London for the
pleasant breezes of the Surrey hills.
He seemed nearly as much part Of
Waylands as Frobisher himself.
As a painter success came to him in
such measure as he deserved He had
a happy faculty of seeing, and of being
able to produce for others to see, some
some little trait or incident of everyday
life, with its touch of humor or pathos.
or both combined-some commonplace
episode of the great conaedie humane
which most people would pass by
with unobservant eyes. One such pic
ture of humble life it was that brought
him to the front. A certain well-known
art-patron saw it, bought it, and caused
it TO be engraved. The engraving be-
came popular, and had large sale
among the humble class of art-lovers
who can not afford to buy pictures. but
who like to see their walls hung with
n few good prints or engravings which
tend, in one form or another, to illus
trate that one touch of nature which is
said to make the whole world kin.
Dick had found his groove at last.
There was demand for his pictures for
engraving purposes. No one could have
been more surprised than the artist
himself was.
"You have hit the right nail on the
head, and no mistake" said Bencc Ley
land to him one day. snow listen TO
the advice of an old un. Paint slowly;
try to make every picture an advance
on your last one; and above all. don't
flood the market with your works. II