The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-08-31


letter case under Your arm. have seen
few of the same kind, she answered
readily, laughing. Nobody. could have
any motive for coming to Treyarrociz
but an artist; we are SO far out of the
beaten track. And even of these,
think only three have ever found their
way over from Penzance in all these
years we have lived here.
An artist! Yes, perhaps he might with
some truth call himself that, Mr.. Car
rington reflected, relieved. But he was
not thinking of the small portfolio Of
sketches under his arm, though they
were certainly superior to the produc-
tions of most amateurs.
Eyes, / am an artist" he answered
slowly, s'if dare lay claim to the title
But it was hardly to sketch came to
Treva1rock A college chum passed
through it years ago. He really was an
l artist, in far truer sense of the word,
and may have been one of the gallant
three you mentioned, Miss Olive, though
had he known how fair a presiding deity
ruled over these wilds he would have re-
! ouired no courage to penetrate them"
LIT ttQQCQ VIII d NOlIl1Y
Olive blushed and looked down. She
had never been spoken to in this way be-
fore, and thrill Of pleasure passed
through her. Then the revulsion came,
spelling all.
.sIIe has not yet seen Madge. When
he does, things viii, perhaps, be differ
ent"
For the first time Olive nearly hated
the thought of her cousins delicate, wil1
rose face, with its large, innocent, hazel
eyes and pretty dimples.
Harold Darlington, little dreaming Of
the effect his idle words were destined to
produce, continued:
ssAs / said, / did not come here to
sketch. had been feeling unwell--
-ovezdone in town-and one day, look
ing over my friends portfolio, came
across a study of those low, blue hills,
with the wild sea dashing up to them,
and few scattered cottages lying close
/ down by the beach. Somehow it stayed
in my memory and fascinated me
! strangely. So, me VOLTA. But | own
when / first tackled old Judith-before
you so kindly came to my rescue-I
heartily wished had asked my chum a
/ little more about the place"
ssThis is where my aunt lives" said
Olive.
They had reached the cottage, which
was built of gray stone, and was only q
little larger than those in the village be-
low. But it was covered with the
| glorious, crimson Virginia creeper, and
its diamond Iatticed windows stood open
1 to the pure breeze of heaven, showing
! giimpses OF spotless, snow white curtains
The small garden was neatly tended, as
though by loving hands, and old fash
toned flowers blooIned in it, a blaze of
r-hollyhocks. white. red and golden:
tall blue larkspurs and large, deep
cupped lilies
1.-The realization of poets dream"
said Harold Darlington; "a veritable
paradise. Miss Olive, l enYy you for
having such home"
'sYou need not" she returned, with a
sharpness in her voice that Jared upon
him. "Wait until you see how small
and pokey and poverty stricken it is.
A tall, thin lady, dressed in black and
wearing widows cap, came down the
narrow path to meet them. She was re-
ined looking and rather handsome in
somber, somewhat austere style, but her
face wore an expression Of sternness and
her hair was white as snow.
.sYou are welcome, Mr. Gar
rington," put in Olive, quickly. "Ahl
Mr.. Darlington, we shall be glad to let
you room and to do our best for you,
if, as charged my niece to say, our ac-
commodation is not too humble to suit
/ your tastes"
Mrs. Treyylian's tone was cold, but
there was straightforwardness and lack
Of affectation in her speech which at
once told Harold Darlington he was in
the presence of lady.
No mincing allusion to 'sbetter days."
or merely to oblige," which less supe-
rior woman would not have failed to
make.
1T is very good of you to take me in
feel sure I shall be comfortable here;
the very look of the place is enough to
tell me that-and my tastes are plain
ones. / will, then, send over for my
things to Penzance; they are at an inn
( t41C4Cs 0AiS4C p0h ny AO] u Lew QdyS,
said Harold.
He saw that it would please Mrs. Ire
vylian better If he took purely business
view of the situation.
81 viii manage that for you. Dan
Penale, old Judith's husband, has q horse
and cart, and win be glad of the job
Now, perhaps, you would like to see
your room%
At that moment slight girlish figure,
clad in white. futtered to the cottage
door.
| Mother, everything is ready" a clear.
musical voice called ont.
'.That is my daughter Madge," said
Mrs Trevylian, turning to go in. ''Madge.
this is Mr.. Darlington. our-our new in
mate"
And as Olive st. Maur looked anxious
ly at Harold she saw in his glance what
made her smile bitterly Her forebod-
ings were realized. He had admired her
own wonderful beauty-but from an ar
lists point Of view only.
Now he had seen Madge; and she knew,
as truly as thought she could read his in
most heart, that he would never have
eyes for her dark southern loneliness
again.