The Penn's Grove record., 1885-09-19
"AS LII FELL UPON A DAY."

Into the National Gallery on this
particular afternoon the not sun II
rushing with a vlgor rarely known ou
of the fresh sweet country. Its dane
ing merrily over the quaint pictures,
the bare rooms, the few artists, and
the fewer visitors who are lounglne
from wall to wall; it is flooding will
special brillIancy n which is the
most deserted of all. There is indeed
nothing very attractive in it, save a
young girl and an old GiorgIone
But such a grill She looks pale and a
little worried; but there is the light OF
genius In her eyes as she looks from hei
easel to the Giorgione.
Presently she and her picture cease
to be alone. Some one has entered the
room, but so slowly, but so noiselessly
that she is unaware of ia young man
with a reprehensibly lIstless air and a
disappointed curve about his lips. He
has been languidly sauntering amongst
the woes of the ''patient Griselda, and
wondering much at the fashions and
customs of those other days; but now
as he too gets enveloped in the blaze OF
sunlight that warns the Giorgione, bis
listless air and disappointed curve van
ish and a fash of satisfaction and glad
relief takes their place.
The gill is working industriously at
her task. Ever and again her glance
seeks the Masterpiece beautiful pic
ture, no doubt, almost divine, but hard
ly as beautiful as the bronze-tinged
head bending over the easel and GER
tainly not so alight with divinity as the
warm earnest eyes in the pure childish
face which every now and then glance
at it, as if for inspiration.
She is poorly clad, but there is nc
unloveliness about her garments. Her
bonnet is lying on the ground beside
her. Her pale-gray Quakerish gown
almost severe in its simplicity, is re-
lleved at the throat and wrists by soft
ruffes of yellow lace cheap lace, no
doubt, but to the ignorant masculine
eye quiet as becoming as oldest point
Honiton.
The young mar is apparently wrap
ped in admiration of the Giorgione, and
drawing nearer, gazes at it with an at
tentlon that speaks excellently well for
his artistic tendencies.
A steady gaze, it is said, makes itself
felt. Be that as it may, the brOnzed
head turns presently a little impatient
ly in his direction, and the earnest eyes
fix themselves upon him in a strange
absent yet r~eproachful fashion that
puzzles him. To be puzzled is to be
interested.
ST am in your light perhaps?" he
says humbly, feeling that he must speak
to the owner of those wistful eyes or
die.
SIT isn't that, - she answers quickly,
as though heartily ashamed of her small
discomfort. "No, it was nothing, y
Her lips part, and she makes him a
present of a lovely friendly smile. ut
was foolish Of me; but just because |
thought myself alone, and ~revelled in
the thought, the fact of finding | was
not altogether so made me lose my grip
upon my brush.'' She laughs softly, as
though at her own folly.
81 shall go then. / am deeply griev-
ed that my stupid coming should have
so disturbed you." says Gerald, step.
ping back reluctantly.
mo, no-lndeed you must not do
that" entreats she earnestly. "Stay
and see your pictures; l know you love
thsm, because often of late | have no.
tlced how frequently you come here,
ard with what real interest you study
them.
For a moment Sir Gerald reads her
face closely, and then tells himself he is
a brute for his doubt.
LAS for me, / am going" adds the
girl, rising YEARLY. She stretches her
arms impulsively, and then smiles ag ain
1T is all very we'll" she says coniden-
TALLY ''but one does get tired of it at
Tunes"
"Painting?" asks he.
"Yes-paintmg," she replies.
"Yet you have undoubted talent''-
glancing at the copy.
ga pretty TOUCH as my old Jew
says that buy my pictures from me, I"
returns she lightly. "Let us not pre-
sumo to go beyond his verdict. Good
evening, SIR"
She had tied on her bonnet by this
time, and, gliding past him with a little
bow that still forbids further
speech, is soon swallowed up by the
nearest doorway.
An impatient exclamation falls from
Sir Gerald's lips. Has he come here
day after day and let himself in for the
tail end of an insufferably duh season
only for thisp Is he never to know
more of the owner of those labent eyesP
Moodlly he casts his own eyes to the
floor, and there sees a tiny brush. Has
she dropped it?
S~natching it up, he rushes in head
long fashion through the doorway by
which she has disappeared, and so down
the stone steps into Trafalgar Square
Fired with a sudden access Of honesty
he looks wildly up and down the pave.
ment for the owner of the recovered
but in yainl
The fates however do not prove ut
terly unkind. Just when hope is gone,
be spies in the far distance, moving at
a rapid pace towards the Strand, a little
figure clad in Quakerish gown, and i'm
his heart once more beating
high, starts in pursuit.
All down the Strand, down Fleet
farther still, he follows her into
hitherto unknown. At last she
comes to a standstill before a house,
respectable, If somewhat grimy, and,
while Sir Gerald is wondering whether
- ahoH ann~1aoH ka-a - 1A4 h.uxak d.