The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-08-18

until that firebrand Atherstone had broken into their lives like bomb- shell, and had put all her peace to flight with extraordinary rapidity.
 He obtained an immense hold over Bellamonte at once, and very soon turned him into an ardent patriot, eager to gird on the sword of his fathers and dash into the fray.
 Bellamonte was anxious to leave his wife and child, whom he adored, be- hind in safety, but the poor woman would not be separated from him; so they went off together. How she must have cursed the author of all this trouble in her heart is easy to im- agine; but she was fine creature, too wise and self-controlled to give vent to her wrath against her husbands idol. Besides, any untimely opposi- tion always confirmed Bellamonte mulishly in his own opinion. The best chance for her, she knew, would be the spectacle of her uncomplaining endurance.
 One mild and fine afternoon at the end of March I was dawdling with @ group of other men in the old gate way of the college, a practice that has been dear to undergraduates from the beginning of time, I suppose. The sun was striking warm upon the mouldy brows of the twelve Caesars opposite, and lighting up the dark places of the venerable "schools." The chatter of the birds building in Trinity Gar dens close by and the deep droning of St. Mary's bell alone disturbed the sleepy stiffness of the old street. The faint perpetual mist of Oxford clung like veil round the towers; the dreamy and scholastic atmosphere of the place entered into ones being that day.
 Suddenly an open carriage came rat ting over the noisy cobbles which no subsequent reform has banished from the streets of Oxford. It was taking the Italians away on their journey.
 Bellamonte sat erect and smiling; a handsome, southern looking man, with rich coloring and sblack curly hair. His old gay and careless air had given place to one hardly less gay, but sea- soned with an energy and resolution which by no means detracted from his good looks. Opposite him sat Luigi the younger, fine boy of seven, very like his father. When he saw us, he laughed and kissed his hand and cried, "A rsoederla, stgnort." His father greeted us with wild waves of his be- loved umbrella, which peaceful weapon he girded on when he first came to England and never laid aside until he exchanged it for more deadly arms.
 But the contessal I never saw on any human creature an expression which moved me more deeply than did hers then. She sat like marble woman, deathly pale, her great eyes staring straight in front of her as at a vision of fate, her lips firmly closed, an image of self-contained despair.
 When they came up, little Saunder- son, the cox of our eight, who knew about three phrases of Italian and was very proud of them, suddenly yelled out "Vtua pItalia," as loud as he could and for man about the size of a respectable bullfinch it was amazing what volume of sound he was able l to produce.
 We all started off and ran beside them for little way, cheering and waving our hats. Bellamonte stood up, radiant and excited, returning our salutations with grace unknown to Oxford. But his wife seemed still to see or hear nothing, until he bent down to touch her on the shoulder, and pointed to us who were running and shouting alongside of the car- riage. Then she started, and slowly turned her head, smiling faintly at us for a moment, smile so heartrending that somehow we could not cheer any more, but stopped short at the corner of Magdalen street, as the carriage swept round the church known in Oxford as "the Archipelago"
 It was almost with relief that we returned at the sound of shouts from Unknown voice at this juncture. A decrepit cab, with baggage on the roof, came clattering down "the Broad," and the driver was urging his miserable beast to further and ex- traordinary efforts in order to catch the train.
 His fare meanwhile was making great commotion inside, shouting, rattling, and battering at the doors but either the coachman was deaf or else he thought it was a work of supererogation to cheer nim on to further exertions. At any rate, he never looked round, but only went on fogging and swearing at his horse.
 A roar of laughter went up from us when we perceived Atherstone's un- dignified manner of departure on his romantic mission. The vehicle was in that last stage of decrepitude then a matter of course with Oxford convey 1 ancoa lot mo hosna kho aueo ne A>zaa~a.