The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1891-11-22
III.

A night or two before we reached New
York 1 was standing in the gloom, half
hidden by a boat on the davits amid
ships, enjoying my vespertinal cigar in
the cool of evening, and between the
puffs ! caught from time to time stray
snatches of a conversation going on soft
ly in the twilight between Bernard and
Melissa. I had noticed Of late, indeed,
that Bernard and Melissa walked much
on deck in the evening together; but
this particular evening they walked long
and late, and their conversation seemed
to me Gf / might judge by fragments)
particularly confidential. The bits Of it
/ caught were mostly, it is true, on Me-
lissa's part (when Bernard said anything
he said it lower. She wa talking en-
Enthusiastically of Venice, Florence, Pisa,
Rome, with occasional flying excursions
into Switzerland and the Tyrol. Once
as she passed / heard something muir
INJURED low about Botticelli's "Prima-
vera" when next she went by it was the
Alps from Murren; a third time, again,
it was the mosaics at st. Marks and
Titian's Assumption" and the doge's
palace. What sc innocent as art in the
moonlight on the ocean?
At last Bernard paused just opposite
where / stood for they didn't perceive
me), and said very earnestly, Look here,
Melissa,"-he had called her Melissa al
most from the first moment, and she
seemed to prefer it, it seemed SO natural
Look here, Melissa, do you know
when you talk about things like that,
you make me feel so dreadfully ashamed
Of myself"
"Why 80, MI. Hancock? Melissa
asked innocently.
"Well, when ! think what ~opportuni-
ties I've had, and how little I've used
them," Bernard exclaimed with vehe-
mence, ''and then reflect how few you've
got, and how splendidly you've made the
best Of them, l just blush, l tell you,
Melissa. for my own laziness."
Perhaps" Melissa interposed with a
grave little air, 'if one had always been
brought up among it all, one wouldn't
think quite so much Of it. It's the nov
city of antiquity that makes it so charm
ing TO people from my country. l sup
pose it seems quite natural 10Y to you
that your parish church should be six
hundred years old, and have tombs in
the chancel with Elizabethan ruffs or its
floor inlaid with Plantagenet brasses.
To us, all that seems mysterious and in
a certain sort Of way one might almost
say magical. Nobody can love Europe
quite so well, I'm sure. who has lived in
it from a child. You grew up to many
things that burst fresh upon us at last
with all the intense delight of u new
sensation"
They stood still as they spoke and
looked hard at one another. There was
n minutes pause. Then Bernard began
again. Melissa" he faltered out in q
rather tremulens voice. ''are You sorr,
to go home AGAIN.
81 just hate itf' Melissa answered
with a vehement burst. Then she addeC
after a second. "But I've enjoyed thu
voyage"
"You'd like to live in Europe Der
nard asked.
~ should love itl' Melissa replied
"Tm fond of my folks. Of course, and
should be sorry to leave them; but
just love Europe. l shall never 2
again though. | shall come right ava,
back to Kansas City now and keep stor
for father for the rest 81 my natural OK
istence.'
1T seems hard" Bernard went o.
musing. ''that anybody like you, Me
lissa, with such a natural love Of art an
of all beautiful things-anybody VIII
can draw such sweet dreams Of deligh
as those heads you showed us after r
lippo Lippi-anybody who a apprt
ciate Florence and Venice and Rome a
you do-should have to live all her hf
ia q far western town and meet with S
little sympathy as you're likely 70 fin
there"
That's the rub, Melissa replied. lool
ing up into his face with such a cor
fding look. Of any pretty girl ma
looked up at me like that, ! should hay
known what 10 do with her. but Bernar
was twenty-four, and young men al
modest.) "rhat's the rub, Mr.. Hancocs
/ like-well. European society 10 yer
much better. Our men are nice enoug
in their own way. don't you know, b.
they somehow lack Doiish-at leass ov