Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-05-09

| meeni3cence Of IL beauty W s"s
| down ST. Marks, much pestereo ~
| assiduous guides, who, recognizing MS
| nationality, addressed him IN . cou ! q
| fsit Of his own tongue be visited the
Dcae's Palace, rambled through the
galleries. and crossed tho Bridge OF
Signs into the prisons; no ios1
himself In the intricate streets
sbout the Merceris, and ne
sirolled along the Piazza OF st.
! Mark, listening to the afternoon
band Il was with . sense Of good
DAVIS work we'll done that he took his
seat that evening at table d'h6fe, stiied
| a hungry yawn, stretched his tired legs
under The table, and looked about him.
There was the usual Italian room, with
its pcly Wallpaper, its stove, and its
| painted ceiling; there was the long
table. with its stiff central floral deco
ration; there was glitter OF gas I;
there was q sound Of English predom'-
mating over every other tongue. Inc
windows looked full on the Rivs; q
plaintive little face peeped in through
the curtains and q plaintive little voice
solicited aims.
"Excuse me. Do you know whether
there is to be singing on the Grand
Canal tonight" said a voice in Eng
lish in David's ear. Something in the
tone at once arrested and fascinated his
attention. He looked quickly down to
o face turned to his, and the blood
mounted into his own face with rush.
The propounder of the question
was bis nearest neighbor, young
girl, the owner Of the most at
trsctive face that David had ever
seen. From beneath mass Of glorious
red.brown hair looked q pair Of the
merriest, brightest blue eyes in oil the
world. The nose, with the slightest
tendency to turn saucily upward, the
dimpled chin, and the laughing mouth
with its sweet, red lips, made up q
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 be bent over his
soup, feeling strangely shy and embar-
raised.
"Indeed! Do you intend to remain
long?" The girls manner was, in its
frank friendliness, a broad contrast to
David's own. 1t was hardly, perhaps,
the manner usually adopted by ladies
in addressing q stranger of the other
sex, but its fearless ease had in it moth
ing deserving the mysterious adjective
fast"
"About = week. I am going to
Florence"
ITO Florence The girl turned
on David q rapid, inquiring glance.
why I believe" she said, sud-
denly laying down her spoon and laugh
ing an amused little laugh, "that |
know who you are"
"Who / amp"
eyes. How odd that / should have
come upon you 80 soon. You are Mrs.
Wilton's nephew, David Murray"
"Did you gain that piece Of informa-
ton from your fellow-fairies?" David
had sufficiently overcome bis shyness to
venture on a tone Of mild pleasantly,
and some infinitesimal portion of the
admiration which he felt found its way
into his eyes.
From no one more fairy-like than
Mrs. Wilton herself. I am wintering
in Florence with friend, the lady OPP
posite u.s." David glanced across the
table toward . pompous-looking dame,
in . plum-colored silk dress and lace
cap, :" and know your aunt well. 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 nv interest. Well Mrs.
Wilton told me, too Sin tone Of
mock solemnity-" about Miss Balfour,
and Miss Balfour and l happen to be
great friends"
"What about Miss Balfour? 2"
asked David, huskily. Joyce had re-
tired into the BACKGROUND Of his
memory; he was almost angry with
this beautiful stranger for bringing her
again into prominence. lie had sent
away his soup-plste, half empty, and
he waived an impatient refusal to q
waiter who approached with fish.
"Oh, you know" with gay laugh.
You are going to Florence in the
character Of a conquering hero to
carry off our heiress, Joyce Balfour."
The laugh nettled David. He colored
crimson. sit pleases you," he said,
crumbliDg his bread impatiently, and
speaking under his breath, "to make
merry at my expense but you are
wrong in your statement. don't think
myself conquering hero. am going
to Florence at Mrs. Wilton's request to
make her niece's acquaintance-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 all the
world"
Dear, dear she doesn't proclaim
her schemes to all the world. How
fiery you are I am, as I said, a
friend Of the family; it's only natural
that Mrs. Wilton should be little
confidential to me-"
Then the subject Of Miss Balfour
was allowed to drop. But other SUBJ
jects presented themselves, and con-
versation was we'll sustained through
the long dinner. When at last the girl
rose, turned to her neighbor with q
bright little motion Of the head-be'
tween q 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 q search
ing glance, David was astonished to re-
member how voluble he had been
Now that his exertions were over, hi
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. Ht
toiled up to his bedroom, looked ul
paper and pencil, and began a sonnet or
pair Of blue eyes, left it unfinished, ant
wandered out. The moon was shining OF
i