The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1890-07-11

~ AOCAO4 ~ PAObty IN CO04Ak k4Ot
resist saying twill belong to me?1 and
he held his hand out to her as he spoke.
Trustingly, confidingly, the young
Italian gave him hers, and Paul Court
land raised it to his lips.
Every well" he said, remember You
promised" and then, changing his tone,
lit is time for you to go now, Beatrice,
but first let me give you a present for
being such a good child and holding so
still"
He went to a cabinet and, taking out
a tiny sapphire frame, replaced the por-
trait it contained of a French lady with
of his own.
'tThis, and he laughed as he gave it
to her, sis a poor exchange for yours.
Ado till tomorrow"
"How kind you are, signor. I can
never thank you enough" and the dark
eyes shone with pleasure as she left the
studio.
ut is only the jewels that delight
her" he said comfortably to himself as
he closed the door, 'sbut she is a dear,
good little thing, and l must be careful
for her sake as well as my own. How
foolish I have been for the last few days.
I came to Florence to make my fortune,
not to fall in love with the first pretty
face l met. Beautiful Beatricel Iwould
not like to make her unhappy, and she
trusts me SO. But as yet there's no harm
done; she is only a child and cares no
more for me than I for her." He felt
very noble as he leaned out of the win
dow and called after the retreating fig
ure once more, "Adio." This time.
though, he did not add It'll tomorrow
but forever" The flower girl heard
the first word only.
The next morning Beatrice went to
the ruin at the accustomed hous to sell
her lilies. Noon passed and made way
for evening, but Paul Courtland did not
come. The next day and the next, and
finally a whole month, crept by; still her
young English lover came not, and the
pretty face grew paler as the weeks
wore on.
She knew nothing had happened to
him, for her sharp eyes had described
him once or twice in the distance. Sure
1y he had not tired of her? MOI he had
told her once that he loved her and he
was too noble, too good, to utter a false
hood. Perhaps he had been very busy
and had not found time to come; Beatrice
caught at this as a last hope.
One sultry afternoon the weary girl
slipped in through the open doorway of
the grand Cathedral of Florence to find
consolation in prayer; tired out with
watching and waiting she fell asleep.
The mighty peal of the organ at last
aroused her, and looking up she saw a
wedding was about to be celebrated.
The scene was one of JOY and brilliance;
myriads Of candles were burning ON the
altar in front Of which stood a stately
lady dressed in the purest white. Bea-
trice recognized her as the Signorina
Rinezza, the richest heiress in aR Flor
ence. Beside her was a distinguished
looking man, very tall and very fair.
Something in his attitude as he stood
there struck sudden terror to Beatrice's
heart. she tried to dispel the wild fear
and leaned forward the. better to see his
face. Just then the service began, she
heard his voice and all doubt was at an
end-this was Paul Court1and's wedding
day.
With tightly folded hands and a face
that was terribly white the flower girl
heard the service through, heard the
priest pronounce the benediction and
then knew no more.
Some hours later a priest might have
been seen walking toward the Arno,
wishing, perhaps, to escape from the
hum Of the noisy city and be free to re-
feet in peace, lulled by the ripping of
the water transformed to cleaning sill
yer in the moonlight. He paused awhile
on reaching the banks, everything was
SO beautiful; helooked long at the starry
heavens, and then his gaze wandered to
the shining river at his feet. Suddenly
he started, and @ shiver ran through his
frame-on the shore he had discerned
something, a woman's form, which the
laughing, cruel waves had left there,
having tired of their prey. The priest
bent down the better to see her face.
Through the tangled black hair, falling
across her breast, shone a cold blue light
as though a tiny star had fallen there
from the sky. But it was not a star, it
was only a ray Of moonlight reflected
from a sapphire locket. With a gentle
hand he brushed back the hair and
looked earnestly at the girl; it was such
a serene face, for the passionate eyes
were closed forever now, that at first he
" l. - I "1 -L
in one hand he saw a bunch of lilies
YES" he said, "'tis Beatrice Gonzani,
our little flower girl. May. the good
God rest hes soul!'