The Sunday herald. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1866-1887, 1886-05-23

A few days later the young man started
on his travels. In the excitement insepara-
BILE from a first foreign tour the object Of his
wanderings was almost forgotten. He went
through the usual vicssitudes OF long
journey. The usual important package was
left behind, and its absence, as usual,
discovered too late for recovery. The
usual countings Of handbags and
wraps were performed, and then the re-
countings, to make assurance doubly sure.
The usual sprightliness on boarding, and de-
jectedness on leaving, the packet were duly
experienced. Then came hurried meals at
railway stations, then views Of fnonotonouc
French landscape, with its inevitable long
straight rows Of poplars, then glimpses Of
holder scenery, ofchalets, and Of snow peaks,
and then Switzerland burst upon David's
view. The young man had chosen the St.
Gothard route; he had determined TO avail
himself OF his aunts generosity, and to line
ger over his journey in letter in which he
announced his plans to her he spoke Of an
intention to spend couple Of days at Lu-
cerne, q few hours at Milan, and week in
Venice, the town which above all others ap-
pealed to his poetic fancy.
"What hotel does the Signore command 2"
asked, hat in hand, David's gondolier, a
weather-beaten old Venetian, with the man
ners Of duke.
"The 'Angleterre, '" returned David, with
a series of nois he guessed the meaning Of
the question. Mrs. Wilton had furnished
him with list of hotels worthy his patron-
age in the different towns iii which he was to
stay.
Soon David was gliding on, along the
Grand Canal, under the bridge Of the Ri
alto, past the fruit market, with its wealth
Of grapes and pumpkins, beside worldfamed
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 had failed 10 grasp the
reality Of his surroundings.
All that day-after his luggage had been
deposited, and bedroom secured at the
"Angleterre," on the Riva degli Schiavoni-
David spent in sightseeing. He wandered,
halfdazed with the magnihcence Of Its beauty,
up and down st. Marks, much pestered by
assiduous guides, who, recognizing his ma
tionalty, addressed him in q counterfeit OF
his own tongue; he visited the Doge's Pal
ace, rambled through the galleries, and
crossed the Bridge OF Signs into the prisons
he lost himself in the intricate streets about
the Merceria, and he strolled along the Pi.
azza of st. Mark, listening to the afternoon
band. II was with sense Of good day 3
work well done that he took his seat that
evening at table d'hote, stifed a hungry
yawn, stretched his tired legs under the
table, and looked about him. There was
the usual Italian room, with ugly wall
paper, its stove, and its painted ceiling
there was the long table, with its stiff cen
trail floral decoration there was glitter of
gas there was the sound of English, pre-
dominating over every other tongue. The
windows looked full on the Riva a plaintive
| r., s,,s 4, \
plaintive little voice solicited aims.
EXCUSE me. Do you know whether there
is TO be singing OH the Grand Canal TO-
nightf" 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 a
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 pair of the
merriest, brightest blue eyes in all the world
The nose with its slight tendency to turn
saucily upward, the dimpled chin, and the
laughing mouth with its sweet red lips, mad,
up picture which dazzled and bewilderei
David.
"I-I-don't know" he stammered
!,
only came into Venice this morning.
Then he bent over his soup, feeling strangely
shy and embarrassed.
''Indeed!" Do you intend to remain
long" The girls manner was, in its franl
friendliness, broad contrast to David's
own. 1t was hardly, perhaps, the manner
usually adopted by ladies in addressing
stranger of the other sex, but its fearless cas-,
had in it nothing deserving the mysterious
adjective "fast."
"About week. l am going to Florence. >
'To Florenoe!" The girl turned on Davit
a rapid inquiring glance. "Why! be-
lieve," she said, suddenly laying down he
spoon, aud laughing an amused little laugh
"that know who you are"
"Who l am 2"
sYes. How odd that should have com
upon you SO soon. You are Mrs. Wilton
nephew, David Murray"
"Did you gain that piece of information
from your fellow-fairies 2" David had sui
ficiently overcome his shyness to venture OIL
tone of mild pleasantly, and some infinit
esimal portion of the admiration which h
felt found its way into his eyes.
"From no one more fairy like than Mrs
Wilton herself. l am wintering in Florenc,
with friend, the lady opposite u.s." Davi,
glanced across the table toward pompous
looking dame, in plum colored silk dres
and lace cap, "and know your aunt well
My friend aud are in Venice for shor
holiday. Mrs. Wilton told us that you wer
coming to the "AngIeterre," and deter
mined TO look out for you. You wonder a
my interest. Well! Mrs. Wilton told me
toO"-in tons of mock solemnity-"abou
Miss Balfour, and Miss Balfour and happe
to be great friends"
"What about Miss Balfour 2" asked David
huskily. Joyce had retired into the back
ground Of his memory; he was almost apgr
with this beautiful stranger for bringing he
, again into prominence. He had sent ava
his soup plate, half empty, and he wave
an impatient refusal to waiter who az
preached with fish.
ooh, you know" with gay laugh
, "You are going to Florence, in the characte
( Of a conquering hero, to carry off our heiresi
Joyce Balfour."
The laugh nettled David. He colore
) crimson. st plsases you" he said. crun
bling his bread impatisntly, and speakiu
under his breath, "to make merry at my 81
pense. But you are wrong in your Statement
l don't think myself conquering hero.
am going to Florence at Mrs. Wilton's r,
quest, to make her niece's acquaintance
nothing more. Probably l shall not lii
Miss Balfour; very probably she will not lii
me. Mrs. Wilton has no right to mai
) schemes for other people, without their COL
5 sent, and then to proclaim those schemes
osrtainties to all the world"
/ "Dear, dear she doesn't proclaim h,
schemes to all the world. How fiery yO
are l am, as said, friend Of the family
q it's only natural that Mrs. Wilton should
q little confidential to me-"
. Then the subject of Miss Balfour was a
q lowed to drop. But other subjects present.
s themselves, and conversation was we'll gu
: tanned through the long dinner. When
j. last the girl rose, turned to hrr nsighb
j. with bright little motion of the hsad-b
y tween bow and nod-and passed out
u the room In the company of the lady In Il
n plum colored silk, who bonored the your
! man with a searching glance, David was a
tonished to remember how voluble he h;
o been. Now that his exertions were over,
!. wondered what to DO with himself, al
d when he should ses the friendly strang
. again. He hung about the reading room
% she was not there. He toiled up to his be
d room, looked up paper and pencil, and
= gan sonnet on pair OF blue eyes, left
g aG,;s M IN