Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1891-11-18

| - I heard the other say, but the youn
man shook his head, and departed abruptly
found nothing that l wanted in the place,
and soon passed ont.
| sIn front of shop window little fur
ther down the street stood the other man,
looking listlessly in with eyes that evident
| " saw nothing. As came by he turned
and looked into my face. His eyes fixed
me as the Ancient Mariners did the We'd
ding Guest. It was An appealing yet com
manding look, and felt constrained Il
stop. l couldn't help 1t, you know. Ever
at my age one is not beyond feeling the
force of an imperious attraction and wher
you are past sixty you ought to be thankfu
on your knees for any emotion that is i'm
perative In its nature. So I stopped beside
him.. I said: 1t was fine stone you were
showing that man. have q great foDdnest
for opals. May ask If You were Offering il
for sale?'
| He continued to look at me. inspecting
me calmly, with fastidious expression
Upon my word, felt singnlarly honored,
when, at the end of q minute or two, be
said: i should like to show it to you. II
you will come to my room with me, y0r
may see that, and another; and he turned
and led the way, following quite humbly
and gladly, though rather surprised at my
self.
The room, somewhat to my sstonish-
ment, proved to be large apartment, .
front high up in one Of the best hotels.
There were good many things lying about
that obviously we're not hotel furnishings,
and the walls, the bed, and even the floor
were covered with litter of water color
sketches. Those that could see were ad-
mirable, being chiefly impressions Of delicate
and fleeting atmospheric effects.
4 took the chair he offered. He stood,
still looking::at me, apparently not in haste
to SHOW me the opals. / looked around the
roon.
''You are an artist9' said.
s'Oh, I used to be when was alive, he
answered, drearily. i am nothing now.
And then turning away he fetched little
leather case, and placed the two opals on
the table before me.
ssThis is the one have always worn,
he said, indicating the more brilliant. The
chillier one I gave once to tho woman
loved. II was more vivid then. They are
strange stones."
feet silence, only dreading that he should
not speak again. am not making you un-
derstand how he impressed me. In the
delicate, hopeless patience Of his face, in
the refined, uninsistent accents of his voice,
there was somehow struck note of self
abnegation, of alooftness from the world,
pathetic in any one go young.
4 am old. There is little in life that I
care for. My interests are largely affected.
Wine does not warm me now, and beauty
seems no longer beautiful, but I thank
heaven I am not beyond the reach of a
penetrating personality. have at least the
ordinary instincts for convention in social
matters, but assure you it seemed not in
the least strange to me that I should be sit
ting in the private apartment Of man
whom had met only half an hour before,
and then in q pawnbroker's shop. listening
eagerly for account of matters wholly per-
sonal to himself. 1t struck ms as the most
natural and charming thing 10 the world.
It was just such chance passing Intercourse
as I expect to hold with wandering spirits
on the green hills of paradise.
1t was some time before he spoke again.
Il saw her tirst,' he said, looking at the
paler opal, as if it was of that he spoke, 'on
the street in Florence. It was day In
April, and the air was liquid gold. She was
looking at the Campanile, as if she were
akin to it. It was the friendly grace of one
lily looking at another. Later, met her
as one meets other people, and was present
ed to her. And after that the days went
fast. think she was the sweetest woman
God ever made. sometimes wonder how
He came to think of her. Whatever you
may have missed in life, he said, lifting
calm eyes to mine, and smiling a little,
you whose aspect is so sweet, decorous, and
depressing, whose griefs. if you have griefs,
are the subtle sorrows of the old and unim-
passioned'-I remember his phrases literal
". thought them striking and descrip-
tive! confessed Hayden 4 hope yon have
not missed that last touch OF exultation
which I knew then. It is the most ex-
quisite thing in life. Tho Fates must hate
those from whose lips they keep that cup.'
He mused awhile, and added, There is on
ly one real want in life, and that is COM
radeship- with the human,
and that we call love.
ssYour definition are literature, ven
tured to suggest, but they are not fact. Be-
lieve me, neither love nor religion is exact
" what you call it. And there are other
things almost as good in life, as surely you
must know. There is art, and there is
work which is work only, and yet is good
You speak from your own experience?'
he said, simply.
st was q home thrust. I did not, and I
knew did not. l am sixty-ive years old.
and / have never known just that complete
satisfaction which believe arises from the
perfect performance of distatefnl work.
said 30. He smiled.
81 knew it when set my eyes upon you.
and knew you would listen to me and my
vaporirg. Your sympathy with me is what
you feel toward all forms Of weakness i, and
in the last analysis it is sselfsympathy. You
are beautiful. not strong,' he added, with
an air of finality, and IL am like you.'
i enjoyed this singular analysis of my
self, but wanted something else.
You were telling me of the opals,' I
suggested.
The opals, yes. Opals always made
me happy, you know. While l wore one,
I felt that friend was near. My father
found these IN Hungary, and sent them to
me-two perfect jewels. He said they were
the twin halves of single stone. believe it
to be true. Their mutual relations is an
odd one. One has paled as the other bright
ened. You see them now. When they we're
both mine, they were almoet of equal bril-
liancy. This, touching the paler, lis the
one gave to her. You see the difference
in them now. Hers began to pale before
she had worn it month. do not trV to
explain it, not even on the ground of the
old superstition. IL was not her fault that
they made her send it back to me. But the
fact remains; her opal is fading slowly;
mine is burning to deeper red. Some day
hers will be frozen quite, while mi ne-mjne
= his voice wavered and fell in silence, as
the fame of q candle fighting against the
wind dickers and goes out.
"I waited many minutes for him to speak
again, but the silence was unbroken. At
last rose. Surely you did MT mean to
na RI NTH aithar stOne I aaid
"He looked up as from dream. Part
with themp Why should sell my sonIP 1
would not part with them if were starv-
ing. had a minutes temptation, but that
is past new Then with a change of man
ner, You are goiugp' He rose with ges-
ture that felt then and still feel as a beAe-
diction. Good by. I wish for your own
sake, that you had not been 30 like my poor
| salf that knew Won for a friend.