Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1894-07-27
AFTER YEARS.

| AonuOn-l received through the kluuhess
of a friend 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 esergetically
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 glorious summer day when |
arrived and the park so beautiful that !
| half forgot its owner, came ut last into
a green dell, where "A little spring dubbed
up clear and cold from among the moss. a
drinking cup was chained to the stone. !
| lifted it to my lips and then took off my
! hat and leaned against IA tree near by.
| | had not heard footsteps behind me
the moss was 50 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 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 it walled in, papa" said very
sweet voice that suited the face charm
ingly; lit will be clearer then"
Clearer, Genie? 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 flingng up her
hands and springng 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 them Was | not an
American-proudest title of all? Had
not a right to fish a young girls shoe out
of a fountain, even if the foot it fitted
blushed with the blood of hundred earls'
plunged my arm in and brought out the
slipper and presented it to the duke.
"Mauy thanks, sir" he said, bending
down to put it on the little foot she held
out. There, you mischievous puss! Thank
this gentleman, and then run to the house
before you get cold
She turned to me with IA charming little
courtesy and was gone. Then the duke
turned to me, evidently puzzled;
Your sleeve is dripping, sir. May ! beg
shat you will accompany me to the castle|'
"Willingly, your grace" and held out
my card which set everything to rights.
"Oh, | 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. | had fingered over it long
lovingly, at first: madly, at last-for |,
the poor artist, dared to love the Lady
Genevieve and knew that when my task
was finished | should see her no more.
God help me!
used to wish as ! painted day after
day, gazing the while at the sweet young
face that always frightened as | spoke
how ! 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 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 wthered duenna who pre-
sided over the sittings never dreamed of
such piece of mad presumption on my
! part NV secret was quite safe
| n,, ha loC aNranjn4r pf StaV the
ant was packing my valise, for was to
leave very early in the morning-dinner
was over, but the plea of a bad headache
excused my appearance. The sound OF
| music and voices from the drawing room
| came family to my ear. Oh, if the Lady
| Genevieve had but been there, how eagerly
| | would have gone down for one more last
| look | 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. | stood at the entrance, listened to
the water falling and felt the solemn gloom,
till suddenly heard voice saying:
BE quiet, Maimee-how dare you to eat
my rosesY
My heart gave a bound that made me
faint 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.
81 thought it was Rogers" said Lady
Genevieve, taking the rosebuds from her
hair, and dreadfully frightened | was.