Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-02-15

|
| side. the girl in her simple white gown with a
| bunch of Parma violets on her breast the
| mother in dark gray velvet and sapp lires.
placldly beautiful, with Titianesque eyes and
| hair, assuredly one of the loveiest women in
| that assembly. albeit her charms were in their
summer maturity and not in their vernal fresh
| ness. 1t Is not granted to many women to be
perfectly beautiful at eight-and- thirty. but it
| had been granted to Ambrose Arden's wife,
| and her husbands heart thrilled with pride as
he noted Florestan's admiring look, a look
| which passed over the daughter to linger on
the beauty of the mother"
Florestan's glance went back to the daughter
| presently. and he that she was very lovely.
with a loneliness which echoed every note in
| the mothers beauty, only the lines were less
developed and less definite. the cooring was
| less brilliant. He looked from the girl to the
| young man beside her and recognized Cyril
Arden, whom he had not seen for some years
There had never been anything approaching
| intimacy between Florestan and the family at
| River Lawn. but there had been acquaintance
| and exchange of civilities from the commence
| ment OF the Hatrels' residence, when the
owner of FOuntainhead was an undergraduate.
! subject to the dominion of guardians. He had
! thus i'll a manner seen Daisy Hatrell grow from
infancy to girlhood, and he noted the opening
| flower with admiring eyes. She seemed to him
| the perfection of English glrlhood; her COM
plexion of lilies and roses. her hazel eyes and
| auburn hair, realized his ideal of English
briliancy of the coloring recalled the school OF
| Titan rather than the school of Reynolds
| He murmured a few words of congratulation
to Ambrose Arden whom he had always re-
| garded as u scholarly and inoffensve person, a
/ mere nOnentty outside his libracv He won
| dered much that such man could have won
| the heart of such woman as Clara Hatrel
He asked if they had just come from Lam
ford and was told of their italian winter.
| I'VE are going back to River Lawn almost
! immediately" said Clara. II am longing to be
! amongst my household gods"
Even Venice could not make mother false TO
! River Lawn added Daisy
And are not you glad to go home, Miss
| Hatrelly' asked FlorestGn.
Home Is always sweet yes, | shall be glad
to see all the dear old things again-garden:
| river, books, horses and dogs, and boats-but
| Venice was simply intoxicating. You know it,
l SUPPOSED"
by heart. There are very few spots in Italy
| that don't know. There goes the curtain"
| The curtain rose, and Florestan was silent,
deterring his visit to Madame Quijada's box
| TIL the end of the act He had looked up once
while he was talking to his friends. and had
| seen that ladys keen black eyes watching him
| intently, while her daughter. wrapped in the
| music. seemed unconscious of all else and GER
| tainlv unconcerned about him. He left his
place after the curtain fell and went straight to
| the box, where the open door suggested that
| he was expected.
AN sorry not TO see Mile. Dolores, he
said, when he had exchanged greetings with
| both ladies.
''She sends you her best thanks for your
| courteous invitation" replied Madame Quijada,
| but she very seldom goes out in the evening
Our appearance at that good Madame Dutur-
| ques was an exceptional event"
1T Is a pity that SO much beauty should be
hidden from the world" said Florestan
Madame QuIjada bowed her acknowledgment
OF this speech and returned TO the contempla-
ton OF the audience. She seemed to know
everybody OF consequence lii that assembly
| by sight-but she recognized no one as an
| acquaintance.
You were talking to some friends in the
stalls, just now" she said to Florestan. with
her eyes fixed upon the Arden party; "a very
handsome woman, with handsome daughter
| They are your compatriots, no dodbt?"
''les, they are English. The lady is my next
| door nelShbor on the banks of the Thames
| She has lately married for the second time
Louise Marcel followed the direction of her
aunts eyes, and looked down at the stalls,
where the two beautiful heads with rich au-
| BURN halr were conspicuous in a central posi-
ton: The orchestra was silent just now and
Louise s thoughts were at liberty.
us she great lady in England, a lady of
title?" asked Madame Quijada curiously.
NO she Is the wife OF commorer. She and
| her husband are well off and of good family
but they are not great people,"
what is the lady's name?"
|
"uatrell."
Louise Marcel repeated the name almost in a
| whisper. There was something in her tone
| that startled Florestan, and he was still more
surprised on looking at her to find her ashy
| pale. Her aunt saw the change in her face and
rose quickly and supported her to the back of
| the box where she moistened her temples with
| eau-de-cologne.
THE poor child will be better soon" she said
| to Florestan, ''she has been subject to these
| wretched swooning fits ever since her illness
Come now, Louise, you are better now, are
| you not?'
Yes, am quite well now. 1t was nothing. Z"
|, "Oh, 1t was very nearly a fainting fit. We
have just escaped all the fuss and anxiety of a
swoon. What was it made you feel ill-the
| light and heat or the excitement of the music?"
1T was the light, perhaps. 1t gave me kind
| OF vertigo. And was so interested in looking
| at Mrs. Hatrell," she said, pronouncing the
name with an accent which somewhat disguised
| 1t. Tell me about her." she went on, turning
| to Florestan; ''she is your friend, you say?"
Yes she is my friend"
And she has married for the second time,
lately?"
quite lately, as late a. last September"
sand she is happy"
II suppose SO. She has gone through deal
OF trouble, but conclude that now she has a
new husband she has forgotten that old sorrow.
| Her first husbands death was q tragical one.
He was murdered in London seven or eight
| years ago by an unknown hand"