The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1894-04-25
SELECTED STORY.
Who Was He!

l.
dear?" the artist laughed while slowly
deepening the shadows of the marble
balustrade on the Pincian. " l never
the denouement came on the platform of
the Brighton railway station. thought
should have tainted. However"
"Oh, please go on" l said. Can
YOU talk while you are putting in that
thigh light on the terrace?"
"Oh, yes, indeed" the artist laughed
again. !" Do you know it brings back
to me the sunlight along the English
hedge-rows on that Red Letter day of
distinction and-dismayl Well"
"Well, do go on"
"You remember l told you of my
uncle's kindness in offering to pay for
my art-education in Europe-of course,
in Paris. l had not one cent-never
expected to have one cent-and he Of
fered to defray the entire expenses of
my four years in Paris, two in Rome,
and grand tour in Spain-for study
and rest. But it was in England that |
met him"
"Do go onl"
"On the steamer to England, 1 had
the good fortune to win the notice,
courtesies and regard of Lord and Lady
B., who were returning home after
trip through our great West, the Vel
lowstone, the Yosemite, etc.
1.-THE day we were steaming up the
Irish Sea, my lord and lady insisted
that should spend ten days with them
at their country seat in shire. 1t was
round of pleasure and of gayety dur
ing that fortnight at Leigh Hall. The
day before / left" the artist put down
her palette and maul-stick, and after
carefully screwing on the cap of her Ill
tramarine, turned slowly to face me,
"Lady B. arranged to take me to
Brighton, to give you glimpse, Miss
Dare, of an English watering-place be-
fore France and the French win all
your heart-aud your colors.'
"Of course we went first-class. Ca "a
sans dire for the English elect. AT
Three Bridges, we had to change cars
carriages | mean. AS we stepped
into the luxurious fiIst-class compart-
ment, noticed in the corner of the
carriage a gentleman sitting. He
wore long gray ulster. He wore
black felt hat. He wore his hair long.
He wore-a wonderful face No, it
didn't put on and off. 1t was himself
/ have never forgotten that profile
against the shadow and the sunlight.
He was, seemingly, absorbed in thought,
gazing out of the window, but seeing
nothing of the bloom and verdure and
spring tide that blushed and nodded
and warbled along the hedge-rows of
Engand's June-seeing nothing save
the light that never was on sea or land
and the bloom of the Ideal. He paid
no attention to US as we glided aristo-
cratically into the select first and de-
posted on the cushions the inevitable
shawls and umbrellas which must Gin
England) always go to watering
place. for day or decade of days.
Do you know, l was Immediately at
tracted in curious sort of way to the
face in the corner. Its lines were as
rhythmical as music, and l felt pro-
voked at the Songfroid, which didn't
even notice me eyes that searched
only the bloom outside, and yet seemed
to see nothing even of that. | had
been such pet in Belgravia for fort
night past that l was provoked at the
limitless GOODNESS which did not even
turn its head to look at me.
&C. was provoked-just that-pro-
voked.
" l was rattle-brain, dear, as you
know, in that first halcyon period of my
ventures, and action was inevitable.
My chaperon, moreover, through world
wide travel, worldwide acquaintance
with climates and temperaments and
idiosyncrasies of men and women, had
lost the usual well-laundered presence
of the English tourist. How it was
that conversation began with the won
derful voice-and eyes-in the corner,
l hardly know, but it must have been
something like this:
! "'Pm provokedp l said in French to
my lady. Isn't it delightful that no
one in the cars can understand us?' |
glanced, Enthusiastically, but on the
whole quite confidently, at the profile
OF power and repose silhouetted against
the speeding background of bloom.
That man can't understand us. He
doesn't look like it. He S as handsome
as picture, though. I'd like to paint
him.
His tint is matchless, Frene.'
:" l will (still in Frerch). l declare
will. He looks as blue as indigo,
though, over something or other. |
guess he's an old sea-dog. I'll wash
him in ultramarine. He'll make a
lovely water color
IRENE, Frenel'
"' He can't understand us, Lady
B.. Not word. I'm going to have
good time. I've been on my good be-
havior long enough in the London So
cial Swim. If he's an old sea- dog, he
can swim, too. Do you suppose he
knows how to lli,t?'
"Did the edges of the lips in the
shadow of the carriage. curtains witch?
He coughed slightly and laid his hat on
the cushions opposite. | glanced out
the corner of my eye-but his gaze was
once more beyond the horzon.rim.
" wonder if my hat is straight
continued, still in French. Pm sure
my collar is crumpled. l never saw
anything like it. There isn't a squnt
of lookingglass in these horrid old
English cars
81 looked out of the window, and
preened my London feather bit.