The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1886-03-19

W q NcIluC4 WIZ
with fish.
'sOl, you know" with gay laugh sYeu
are going to Florence in the character cf'a
conqueriIg hero, to carry off our heiress
Joyce Balfour."
The laugh nettled David. He coloTed
crimson 1T pleases you," he said, crumblmg
his bread inpatiently, and speaking under
his breath, "to make merry at my expense.
But you are wrong IN your statement.
don't think myself q eonquerer hero. am
going to Florence at Mrs. Witon's request,
to make her niece's acquaintanee-nothing
more. Probably shall not like Miss Balfour;
very probably she will not like me. Mrs.
Wilton has no right to make schemes for
other people, without their consent, and then
to proclaim those schemes as certainties to al
the world"
aDear, dear! she doesn't proclaim her
schemes to all the world, How fiery you
are. / am. az said. a friend of the fai1ily3
: IFS only natural tnat Mrs. Wilton should be,
little confidential to me- -
Then the subject of Miss Balfour was
allowed to drop. But other subjects pre-
sented themselves and conversation was well
sustained through the long dinner. When at
last the girl rose, turned to her neighbor
with bright little motion of the head
between bow and nod--and passed out of
the room, in the company of the lady in the
plum-colored silk, who honored the young
man with a searching glance, David was
astonished to remember how voluble he had
been. Now that his exertions were over, he
wondered what to do with himself, and when
he should see the friendly stranger again.
He hung about the reading room; she was
not there. He toiled up to his bedroom,
looked up paper and pencil, and began a SON.
net ON a pair of blue eyes, left it unfinished
and wandered out. The moon was shining
on the open water before the Riva degli
Schiavoni; the fishing boats with their pictur-
esque sails stood out in silver light. But
David did not linger-as he once would have
lingered-over the scene; he hurried on to the
frequented Piazza of st. Mark. There he
watched the crowds passing up and down.
He did not tell himself that it was in search
of one face that he scanned each group of
promenaders or idlers But, as in passing
one of the tables before the "Caffe Florain"
he caught sight of the lady who had accosted
him at table d'hote, and who was now slipping
coffee and talking with her friend, he felt
somehow as if a long search had been re-
wartled He raised his hat, and passed on,
bllshing like a girl when he received re-
sponsive bow and smile. Then he walked
slowly back down the Riva to his hotel, sat
up late over his sonnet, tore it up in angry
discomfort and fell asleep to dream of an ami
mated face, and pair of bewitching, bright
blue eyes.
The days passed quickly. Il was glorious
autumn weather. Every morning David
visited, in obedience to directions in his guide
book, some famous churches or palaces, or ha
made his way to the studio of modern art
ist All day long David looked forward to
the tete-a-tete of the dinner hour. Every
evening he went to the Piazza, and marched
up and down in solitary state, his eyes con-
tinually travelling in one and the same direc-
ton, or he sought table at the cafe where
he could furtively watch his new friend, who
was pretty sure to be in sight. When speak
ing to her, David had often had at his
tongues tip a downright question concerning
her name, but he had hitherto been too shy to
utter it. He fully intended to be bolder,
one day Meanwhile, in his verses
she had found her way into most of his
verses written at this period-he chose, for
some fanciful reason of his own, to call her
aHera"
It turned out that the length of the girls
stay in Venice was identical with Dayids;
they were both to leave on the same day.
On the last evening in Venice David and
Hera found themselves walking together,
and actually unaccompanled, along the
Piazza. A strange silence came over the
young man. Intently-almost breathlessly-
he watched his companion. She had drawn
off one of her gloves; on one of her fingers
was ring, with Il forget-me-not in tur-
auoises David wondered, with touch of
utterly unreasonable jealousy, whose hand
had placed it there.
The silence seemed oppressive to the girl.
aIet us hurry toward the Riya and see the
moonlight ON the water" she said "Moon-
light on water is the most correct of all We
netian beauties"
"Certainly" David tried to shake of his
tacitmnity-to emulate his companions gay
ETY.. But the attempt ended in failure; he
was obviously dull and miserable.
Oh, the beauty of the evening-an evening
never to pass from David's memory! How
grand and solemn the ducal palace looked III
the moonlight. how still was the water, how
sweetly came the sound of singing voices
from the grand canal On the top of the
steps of one of the many bridges on the Riva
both walkers came simultaneously to stand
still.
4So this is our last evening in VeniceE' said
the girl, resting her arms on the top of the
bridge, and looking musingly down into the
water.
"Why do you tell me that? surely I know
it." burst out David, savagely. The girl
glanced up, startled by the sharpness of his
voice.
"Whats the matter2" she asked
"Ah, mel" he sighed. "Sie transit gloria
mundin
II beg your pardon"
~ beg yours; was quoting Latin. What
I want to say is that-that-the prospect OF
bidding you goodbye is-well-is the reverse
of an enlivening one to me-"
aFEow solemn you are," with laugh. @And
for no reason at all. We shall often meet
again"
"Shall we?" David leaned his elbow on the
top of the bridge. he bent his head down close
to the girls, her hair almost brushed his
cheek
@Of course" a little impatiently. aMy
friend and I go to Florence tomorrow, and,
as I told you, am great friend of Mrs
Wilton's; look in upon her every day."
"But I am not going to Mrs. Wilton's.
David spoke in O suppressed voice; he did not
raise his head tg
aWhat do you maanm @a
sWhat say cannot go to her now /
had not been day in Venice before GTsw
aware of that fact. But could not-forgive
me-resign the pleasure of staying on here
with YOU My expenses at Venice must be
refunded somehow with a grim smile
9You are going tomorrow; then leave the
same day for London"
AGood gracious!n The girl raised herself
from her STOPPING position. 3How change
able and how incomprehensible you arei
What has happened since you left home to
change your plans SO suddenlym
Everything has happened. Half mechan-
icaally, Hera had moved on a few paces and
David walked beside her; they descended the
bridge steps and made their wsy slowly along
the river.
4You know of--you spoke OLA matrimo-
NAL scheme for me- which was the cause of
Mrs Wilton,s invitation When I left home
was free. 1t was ut least possible that an
introduction to Miss Balfour might, If my adj
vances proved acceptable, end in the accom-
plishment of my aunt's scheme. Now, all
that possibility is over.
@Why over!n
II am not free now cried the young man,
passionately 4Since have met you l. have
learned that Miss Balfour and / could never,
at best, be more to each other than good
friends"
An inscrutable expression came into the
girls face She stood stin and eyed her COM
panion searchingly Surely, she said, IF
you oppose yosir aunts plans you win injure
your prospects for life.
Eyes, answered David, with simple cam