Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-01-05

upon the quiet waters. 1t was not blown up
from the west, it simply grew like the twi-
light, making the silence yet more silent
and 6lotting away the outlines of the land.
Beatrice gave up studying the seaweed and
watched the gathering of the feecy hosts.
''What curious evening"" she said aloud
to herself, speaking in low, full voice. ST
have not seen one like it since mother died,
and that is seven years ago. I've grown
since then, grown every way" and she
laughed somewhat sadly, and looked at her
own reflection in the quiet water.
She could not have looked at anything
more charming, for it would have been hard
to fnd girl of nobler mien than Beatrice
Granger as she stood and gazed, on this her
I'D birthday, into that misty sea.
OF rather more than middle height, and
modelled like a statue, strength and health
seemed to radiate from her form. But it
was her face, with the stamp of intellect and
power shadowing its woman's loYeliness,
that must have made her remarkable among
women even more beautiful than herself.
There are many girls who have rich brown
hair, like some autumn leaf here and there
Just yeIlowing into gold, girls whose
deep gray eyes can grow tender as
a doves, or flash like the stirred waters
of northern sea, and whose bloom can bear
comparison with the wilding rose. But few
can show face like that which upon this
day first dawned on Geofrey Bingham to
his sorrow and his hope. It was strong and
pure and sweet as the keen sea breath, and
looking on it one must know that beneath
this fair cloak lay q wit as fair. And yet it
was all womanly; here was not the hard sex
less stamp OF the "eultured" female. She
who owned it was capable of many things.
She could love and she could suffer, and ii
need be she could dare or die. 1t was to be
read upon that lovely brow and face and in
the depths of those gray eyes-that is, by
those to whom the book Of character is open,
and who wish to study it.
But Beatrice was not thinking OF her
loveliness as she gazed into the water. She
knew that she was beautiful, of course; her
beauty was too obvious to be overlooked,
and besides it had been brought home to her
in several more or less disagreeable ways.
'Seven years," she was thinking, "since
the night of the death iog;' that was what
old Edward called it, and so it was. was
only 30 high them" and following her
thoughts she touched herself upon the
breast. "And was happy, too, in my own
way. Why can't one always be 10, and be-
lieve everything one is told?" and she
sighed. "Seven years and nothing done
vet. Work, work, and nothing coming out
of the work, and everything fading away.
think that life is very dreary when one has
lost everything, and found nothing, and
loves nobody. wonder what it wall be like
in another seven years.
She covered her eyes with her hands, and
then, taking them away, once more looked
at the water. Such light as struggled
through the fog was behind her, and the
mist was thiekening. At first she had some
difficulty in tracing her own likeness upon
the CLASSY surface, but gradually she marked
its outline. 1t stretched away from her. and
its appearance was as though she herself
were lying on her back in the water,
wrapped about with the feecy mist. ''How
curious it seems" she thought; 'twhat is it
that reflection reminds me OF with the white
all round it ?''
Next instant she gave little cry and
turned sharply away; she knew now. It re-
called her mother Is she had last seen her
seven years ago.