Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1892-11-22
AFTER YEARS.

twenty years dBO-DellB Iuen young
artist just starting in my profession in
London-I received through the kindness
of a friend n commission from the Duke of
c., which drove me half wild with de-
light. | was to follow the family from
town, stay at C castle and paint por-
trait of his youngest daughter, the Lady
Genevieve | shook hands theoretically
with my friend and started per rail in the
wake of my noble patron, who had gone
down to his seat the week before
1t was a glorious summer day when
arrived and the park so beautiful that l
half forgot its owner. | came at last into
green dell, where little spring dubbed
up clear and cold from among the moss. A
drinking cup was chained TO the stone. i
lifted it to my lips and then took off my
hat and leaned against tree near by.
l had not heard footsteps behind me-
the moss was so thick and soft-but two
shadows fell across the one spot of sun
shine in the glade, and started and looked
up. A stout, good natured looking old
gentleman, brown as farmer, and with
something of an American farmers frank
manliness about him, stood opposite to
me. On his arm leaned a girl Of sixteen,
with the most honest, loving face / had
ever seen. / bowed, and they returned the
courtesy and turned toward the spring
II want 1t walled in, papa" said a very
sweet voice that suited the face charm
ingly; "it will be clearer then"
Clearer, Geniei Why, what can you
want clearer than that? Look at it, in it
you can see your face in it."
She bent over the waterford upon a
loose stone in doing so-and flinging up her
hands and springing forward to save her
self stepped with both feet into the spring
1t was not deep, but she was very much
dismayed Her father and both sprang
forward and soon landed her on dry ground
her muslin dress clinging round her ankles
and one small foot slipperless.
By this time / had discovered that no
less a person than his grace of c. was
before me. This, then, was the Lady Gene
We've. Well, what then, Was l not an
American-proudest title of all' Had l
not a right to fish a young girls shoe out
Of a fountain, even II the foot 1t fitted
blushed with the blood Of a hundred earlsi
Iplunged my arm in and brought out the
slipper and presented it to the duke.
"Many thanks, SIR" he said bending
down to put 1t on the little foot she held
out. There, you mischievous pussl Thank
this gentleman, and then run to the house
before you get cold"
She turned TO me with a charming little
courtesy and was gone. Then the duke
turned to me, evidently puzzled
Your sleeve is dripping, sir. May beg
that you will accompany me to the castle"
Willingly, your grace" and / held out
my card which set everything to rights.
ooh, / see-Mr. Estcourt. / am very
glad you have come, sir. Genevieve is wild
about her portrait
The picture was painted. The Hon.
George Cavendish had long been gone
from the castle when put the last touches
to my work. Ihad fingered over IL long
lovingly, at first: madly, at last-for /,
the poor artist, dared 10 love the Lady
Genevieve, and knew that when my task
was finished l should see her no more.
God help mel
l used to wish as / painted day aftei
day, gazing the while at the sweet young
face that always frightened as l spoke
how l used to wish that she had been born
beneath some humble farmers roof in my
own country-so that | might have wooed
and won her, as she sang about her house
hold tasks or went at nightfall toward the
pasture bars, like MARY o. the Dee"
And how l used to groan in agony of spirit
when laid my head upon my sleepless
pillow at night and remembered that the
wish was all in vain The duke was away
in London-the duchess, entirely absorbed
in the approaching marriage Of Lady
Marian, who was TO be presented the very
next season as the Countess of Clan Moch-
foil-and the withered duenna who pre-
sided over the sittings never dreamed Of
such piece Of mad presumption on my
part. My secret was quite safe.
On the last evening Of my stay the serv.
ant was packing my valise, for was to
leave very carly in the morning-dinneI
was over, but the plea of bad headache
excused my appearance. The sound of
music and voices from the drawing room
came family to my ear. Oh, IL the Lady
Genevieve had but been there, how eagerly
would have gone down for one more last
lookl felt my eyes growing dim at the
very thought, and saying to Beris that
should take a stroll in the park for my
headache, went down by a side door and
out to the glade where had first seen her.
The moon was shining glorious, yet so
dense was the shade OF the cedar trees that
only faint radiance quivered round the
spring. l stood at the entrance, listened to
the water falling and felt the solemn gloom,
till suddenly heard a voice saying:
''Be quiet, Maimee-how dare you to eat
my rosesy"
My heart gave a bound that made me
faint-I leaned forward-yes, there was the
shining Of white garments; it was Lady
Genevieve herself, with the fawn beside
her trying to pull a wreath Of buds from
her brown curls. | went up behind her
and spoke-she started violently-but see
ing who it was, grew calm and made a
place for me beside her. The fawn came
and laid her head upon my knee.
tbpnuhf IL ROUpre-N said LADY
Genevieve, taking the rosebuds from her
hair. land dreadfully frightened | was.
She always finds me out, but | ran away
tonight when she was in the housekeeper's
room, and she will not come here-she
thinks there is ghost here. told her so,
Mr.. Estcourt"
She looked up in my face and laughed,
then bent over the fawn, so near me that
her hair touched my breast Whit little