The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-05-15

" collected and placed in gondola; herd
of loafers-ragged picturesque men and
swooped down upon him as fair
prey; one seized his umbrella another
bore off his Murray and macintosh; a third
attempted-in spite of vigorous remon-
strance-to relieve him of the light burden
of small paper volume Of Howells 'Ven-
etian Life" which he held in his hand.
Before the station were a number of gon-
dolas, their proprietors hailing passengers
with deafening cries of ''Gondoli, Signorl.
Signori, gondoli, gondoi."
eWhat hotel does the Signore command"
asked hat in hand David's gondolier,
weather-beaten old Venetian, with the man
ners of Duke.
eThe 'Angleterre,' returned David,
with series of mods; he guessed the mean
ing of the question. Mrs. Wilton had fur
nished him with list of hotels worthy his
patronage in the different towns in which
he was to stay.
Soon David was gliding on, along the
Grand Canal, under the bridge Of the
Rialto, past the fruit market, with its wealth
ofgrapes and pumpkins, beside world-famed
Gothic or Renaissance palaces. He was in
Venice at last-in Venice the city of dreams,
and the whole scene had come upon him
so suddenly that he failed to grasp the re-
ality of his surroundings.
All that day-after his luggage had
been deposited, and bedroom secured at
the "Angleterre,' on the Riva degli Schi-
avoni-David spent in sightseeing. He
wandered, half dazed with the magnifcence
of its beauty, up and down st. Marks,
much pestered by assiduous guides, who,
recognizing his nationality, addressed him
in a counterfeit of his own tongue; he Wis
tied the Doge's Palace, rambled through
the galleries, and crossed the Bridge of
Sighs into the prisons; he lost himself in
the intricate streets about the Merceria,
and he strolled along the Piazza of st.
Mark, listening to the afternoon band. 1t
was with a sense of good days work well
done that he took his seat that evening at
table dh6te, stifed hungry yawn, stretch
ed his tired legs under the table and looked
about him. There was the usual Italian
room, with its ugly wall paper, its stove,
and its painted ceiling; there was the long
table, with its stiff central floral decoration;
there was glitter of gas; there was the
sound of English, predominating over every
other tongue The windows looked full on
the Riva; plaintive little face peeped in
through the curtains and a plaintive little
voice solicited aims
"Excuse me. Do you know whether
there is to be singing on the Grand Canal
to -night?" said voice in English, in
David's ear. Something in the tone at
once arrested and fascinated his attention.
He looked quickly down to face turned
to his, and the blood mounted into his own
face with rush. The propounder of the
question was his nearest neighbor, a young
| Girl. the owner of the most attractive face
that David had ever seen. From beneath
mass of glorious red-brown hair looked a
pair of the merriest, brightest blue eyes in
all the world. The nose with its slight
tendency to turn saucily upward, the dim
pied chin, and the laughing mouth with
its sweet red lips, made up picture which
dazzled and bewildered David.
"I-I-don't know he stammered.
''The ways of this place are strange to me;
| only came into Venice this morning"
Then he bent over his soup, feeling strange
ly shy and embarrassed.
'Indeedl Do you intend to remain
long2" The girls manner was, in its frank
friendliness, broad contrast to David's
own. 1t was hardly, perhaps, the manner
usually adopted by ladies in addressing a
stranger of the other sex, but its fearless
ease had in it nothing deserving the mys-
terious adjective "fast"
"About week. l am going to Flor
ence."
ssTo Florencel' The girl turned on
David rapid inquiring glance. "Why!
believe" she said, suddenly laying down
her spoon, and laughing an amused little
laugh, ''that know who you are"
"Who l amp
ayes. How odd that | should have
come upon you so soon. You are Mrs.
Wiltons nephew, David Murray"
eDid you gain that piece of information
from your fellow -fairies?" David had suf-
fciently overcome his shyness to venture
on a tone of mild pleasantly, and some in
fnitesimal portion of the admiration which
he felt found its way into his eyes,
'sFrom no one more fairy like than Mrs,
Wilton herself | am wintering in Flor
ence with friend, the lady opposite us,
David glanced across the table toward a
pompus-looking dame, in a plum-colored
silk dress and lace cap, "and know your
aunt we'll My friend and [ are in Venice
for short holiday. Mrs, Wilton told us
that you were coming to the "Angleterre,
and L determined to look out for you.
You wonder at my interest. Well Mrs,
Wilton told me, too in a tone of mock
solemnity-:about Miss Balfour, and Miss
Balfour and happen to be great friends.
"What about Miss Balfour?" asked
David, huskily. Joyce. had retired into
the background of his memory he was
almost angry with this beautiful stranger
for bringing her again into prominence.
He had sent away his soup plate, half
empty, and he waved an inpatient refusal
to a waiter who approached with fish.
aOh, you know" with a gay laugh.
'You are going to Florence in the char
acter of conquering hero, to carry off our
heiress, Joyce Balfour.'
The laugh nettled David. He colored
crimson. at pleases you" he said, crum-
bling his bred impatiently, and speaking
under his breath, 'to make merry at my
expense. But you are wrong in you state
ment. don't think myself conquerine
hero. l am going to Florence at Mrs
Wilton's request, to make her niece's ac.
quaintance-nothing more. Probably
shall not like Miss Balfour, very probably
she will not like me. Mrs. Wilton has nc
right to make schemes for other people
without their consent, and then to pro
claim those schemes as ceFtainties to al
the world.
"Dear, dear! she doesn't proclaim hel
schemes to all the world. How fiery you
.arel l am, as 1 said, friend of the family
it's only natural that Mrs Wilton shoulC
be a little confidential to me-
Then the subject of Miss Balfour was
allowed to drop But other subjects pre-
sented themselves, and conversation was wei