The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-11-22
LORD OF ALL "
BY MS. HERBERT MARTIN.

| knew anything of widow named Ire
varroch, who lived I'D the Eagle cliff.
Yes, / knowed her husband well. A
reGw He Vent down off
! and his son with him; and then poor
| Mary's sweetheart. VIII Penruddock-it's
! common tale in these parts Mary's n
| good girl, though she always held her head
| over high to please the lads"
| Vincent cleared his throat "She felt the
| loss of her lover very muchp'
| ''Ay, | reckon so. I've never seen much
of her"
shes very handsome girl, isn't she
| | think I've seen her."
"HandsomeP Well, perhaps you'd say
| so; | haven't thought much OH it."
Aud this was all there was to be got out
| of mine host.
The next day Vincent found his steps
| leading along the same steep path; but this
! time he carried his painting gear as n war
! rant for his appearance. The widow was
| at home, and she came out to give him Il
| chair and to chat with him, but the daugh-
| ter was not there. Vincent sat down aad
| idly dashed in few strokes. He hardly
saw what lie was doing, his eyes wandered
| so often down the rocky way. Presently
| they frightened as tail figure laden with
heavy basket OF bread came slowly uD-
ward. He few down to relievs her of her
| burden, but she held it back with a look of
| half-amuSeu surprise.
| The near view did not diminish one of her
| charms to him. On the contrary, the full,
| open light of her wonderful eyes almost in
| toxicated q head which was at times but
weak to such influence.
| Wont you let me help you with your
| basket?" he said. trying to speak in the
| most careless of tones.
| No! Why should you? It's not so heavy,
| and I'm used to it. You're the painting
| gentleman, L suppose, that mother spoke
| OFF,
Yes; l have come up to try and get some
sort of picture of your beautiful cliffs from
here. l shan't be in your way?"
| oh, no. she answered carelessly.
Her voice and way of speaking like her
| mothers, though rustic, was by no means
| unreiued. 1t had a certain music of its
! own, which suited the melancholy beauty
| of her face. But though this face never
| lost, even while smiling, its pathetic lines,
| she had not in speaking any trace Of tho
heartbroken maid he had expected TO find
| While her eyes had an expression of infinite
| sadness and the curves of her lips were
| wlsttul and at times even mournful. she
| spoke with calm, not uncheerful air, of
| everyday sense. The truth was that Mary
| TreyarrOch had learned to live utterly to
| herself No hand had touched the secret
wound since that bitter March night when
VIII PenruddOcR went down into darkness
and silence The dull requirements of hard
and dreary life were TO be met, and those
alone must make her future.
Vincent went back to his easel while the
girl took in her basket and remained awhile
inside the cottage; and then she came ont,
and stepping behind him with the frank
ness of perfect ignorance of the world. she
looked at his beginning.
It's nothing to look at he said, glanc-
ing up at her; I've hardly begun. Here's
Iinished sketch, which is more worth your
notice"
"Oh, those are the Twin Sister rocks"
she cried, with more animation, one brown
finger pointing over his shoulder, land the
Lions Head. That's just like-but the sea
isn't that color"
1.-The sea is any. color; you have not
looked al il enough"
Il not look at the sea enough?" she said,
In q low, curious voice: - look at scarce
aught else" Then she changed her tone
again: " Is 1t difficult to paint?''
Try and see"
Are you great painter-in London
| you come from London, the folks say?"
No. I'm not; Pm ouIy mddling at every
| thing. | break my heart over trying of it,"
mat pity; why don't you give it up?
But perhaps It's your Iiyng?"
NO, Ia make but poor living if it
were. But it's part of my life, can give
it up."
Il don't know; l love it and l hate it,
but it's part of my life. Now. Miss Trevar-
roch, be very good to me-gO and lean
against that bit Of red rock and I'll try and
get you in"
She laughed a short but merry laugh.
Get me IN the picture? If you like; but
Miss Trevarroch? How queer it sounds.
What are you-to such as me?"
| every one else, sir"
We'll. Mary, then. please to go and do
| what said, unless you are busy"
No. I've nothing much to do. Mother
| is cleaning the house for to-morrow' to-
morrow was Sunday. How shall l Put
MYSELF"
Anyhow. you can't go wrong; and talk
to me while l paint. shall get on all the
better"
Il haven't much to talk about"
why not? Everything is new and inter-
estlng to mo here; tell me about your life"
There's naught in that that would amuse
you. she answered in a dull. dreary voice
| that reminded him of her mother; sit
would he better for you to tell me how
ladies' i've who are gay and happy and have
81 don't know many happy ladies in Lon
oon-p!enty who are gay enough. To me il
would seem ever so much happier here at
Penruth out OF :he noise and hustle, with
| that sweet, salt air blowing from over the
sea- Don't let's talk Of London. l am try
/ ing to forget any world but this
All" she said, in quiet way, ''it's
happy Tor you here, perhaps; you know
| naught of how we live IN Penruth."
| do you want to 60 somewhere else ?
| Woule it make you happier?''
| Il don't look to be happy" she answered,
| turning her eyes from him. las for going
away, sometimes l think want to; some,
times think | want to come back I've
| Penruth, but I've read about places"
DO you care for reading, then?''
used to when l was a girl; our par
! sons wife had me great deal with her and
lent me books and Will was fond of reading
| in winter evening" There was a silence
and then Mary said, qnite calmly, '.WiIi
| was the man was TO marry. He's dead"
You talk of when you were a girl" Vim
| cent said, dashing into words to save him
| self from some embarrassment. You are
| young enough now"
Turned two and twenty. | don't feel
young"
You've gone through a great deal" he
| said, in low voice, tender with sympathy,
Oh have! l have!' she said, in voice
deepened by her emotion. How kindly
our mother and others aud yourself. |
| saw you before"
She blushed deeply. "Where?"
Down in the little cove there, under that
fered."
She turned away her head and put one
said, just above her breath. 81 never saw
you. Don't talk of it now'
Vincent had tact enough not to keep the
hundred things. The dark ewes came
back to him. and she was again the rather
dignified, matter-of-fact self that he rad
startled away.
Vincent Randall had taken the plunge in
good earnest-he went about from the hour
haunted with her perpetual presence. Day
after day the picture fingered on and the
intimacy progressed-on her side perfectly
straightforward friendship, which had not
an aIterthought; on his a gradual rising
from admiration to passion, from passion to
an Irresistible depth of tenderness. if it
comes at all, comes after. not before pas
| sion. T0
One day he took a sudden resolution.
| packed up and went off Tor walking tour.
leaving his heavy goods at the Fishermap's
Rest. de wanted to try the antidote of alb
| he went the impression of her pathetic
beauty went with him; he could no more
part win her inner vision than with the
heart that enshrlned it. al will 90 back"
he said, IN go back to Penruth and ask
her to be my wife. Come what NAV of it. I
yntye hill =.