The Dickinson press., 1894-12-15

lIlcX pIlCt Dle.
He looked at the softened and per-
picked radiance Of her face with q
certain wonder and reverence in his
own.
IF there were more women like you
N the world. Genna.' he said impul-
Hvely, Tho world would be n great
deal better than it is."
"Oh, hush!' she said, with evident
distress; do not say such words to me.
You do not know what I am"
"No," he said, with involuntary rev.
erence, II do not know one half your
goodness and unseltishness; even IL I
did they would only shame the idle
ness and weakness of my own nature"
"Yours" she cried looking at him
with wonder and admiration In her
eyes. ''Whcn you are SO create"
Il great" he laughed mOckingly. If
you were not so ignorant Of the worlds
opinions. child, you would not apply
that word to me-"
docs the world not heed you, then?"
"As vet, no.. 1 have no gold to buy
Its smiles-no friends to influence ita
favors. For the rest II I possess any
gifts. which l doubt often, they are not
powerful enough to command success,
perhaps v to deserve it."
you are great to me-" she said hum.
bly,, looking ut him with wistful COM
prehensfon of his words that touched
him deeply.
Because you do not know what
greatness really is" he answered impa-
tiently. ''The fame. the honor, the won.
der Of ones fellowmcn.
Il should not call that greatness"
| oho a0f1 Sofflv 90 if lnlP ooho vooxl -
her own temerity. '"The praise and
wonder aud admiration Of men are oil
very we'll; but il one knows one does
not deserve them?"
'They are Just as sweet, perhaps
sweetcr," he answered.
Not If man is true to himself, or to
the gifts which God has placed In his
keeping. 1t is no true fame, no real
greatness. to obtain what one is not
worthy Of"
The imperfect utterance of this home
" and unframed intelligence spoke q
truth that struck home to her nearer
that Surprised and shamed him at
one and the same moment.
Full well he knew that the desire for
fame which filled his breast and ami
mated his efforts was not q desire
springing from anoble consciousness
Of his w deserts. but rather q few
erish longing for the showers Of gold,
the homage of f1attery, the sweets of
adulation, that make up the ephemeral
triumphs Of q lifetime, not the lasting
tribute that future ages will pay to the
deserts of genius.
You are right, Genna," he said, sud
denly. Il do not know where you get
yonr wisdom, but it il worth all mine
gathered from the lips Of men, from
the teachings of cities. We poets and
and painters are no better than the
rest of mankind, perhaps worse; we
know the truth, yet disguise it. We
teach lessons, yet never attempt to
practice them. We praise remuneration
vet banker after the flesh-pots Of
Egypt in Dill secret hearts-we look up
to the sun, but our feet remain fixed
in the mirc."
you should not be so," she sold
looking gravely up at the handsome
face before her.
He bent down and lightly kissed her
hand. "NOr would I, dear Genna." he
said, with an involuntary softness in
his voice that was not feigned. "Nor
would. ]. If such Il woman as yourself
were beside me always"
The words, frightened, gladdened, be.
wildered her. To I've Of any use, Of any
worth to him. That thought was too
full Of ecstasy for aught but silence and
solitude. She broke away from his de-
tanning hand and fled to her room and
threw herself down, with her heart
throbbing as If it would burst, her
limbs %quivering. her face burning. His
words had reused in her a passion
strong as life, pure us crystal. She felt
as II she could have laid her life down
at his feet or the supreme bliss that he
had given her with that caress of his
lips, that involuntary entreaty which
had thrilled his words.
She vas unframed, coarse, ignorant
that she kncw-and, yet she was use,
of worth to him, who was to her a king
among men. She had no guide, except
her instincts Of purity, fidelity, passion;
but they were instincts both great and
lofty, and would never lead her astray,
eve amid q torture of suffering, q fire
of temptation.
With her brain throbbing, with her
heart racked by q tempest Of emotion,
she lay where she had thrown herself,
with only the memory of his words, the
Joy Of his praise, filling all her senses,
excluding all other thoughts.
When sh. ut length started to her
feet she felt ashamed Of her forgetful-
ness Of other matters, of her neglect of
the household duties SO long her sole
care. She smoothed her heavy, shining
t~resses, and went to the kitchen and
and secured the metal pans, and peeled
the vegetables for the soup pot, and
set the table ready for the return
of old Maso and Mia, and all the time
her heart felt SO light, SO happy, her
lips were singing gay, glad, bird-like
snatches of song.
Had he not kissed her, praised her?
She who unto herself. and ven to 9th.
ers, had SO long been stupid, coarse
unl0vely peasant. The wonder was
gladness Of the thought were always
with her, tightening her 1abors, beau.
d trying her homely face, making even
light and work a pleasure.
The u had long set-and it was
growing dusk. The meal was ready,
the brick floor clean swept, and through
the square, unglazed window, she look.
ed ~anxiously from time to time, won
dering why Nita did not return.
Old Maso came in presently, hot,
tired and hungry. She served him with
soup and placed a fresh-cut lettuce and
q slice of coarse brown bread beside
him.
"Have you not seen Mia as you came
through the ields?" she asked at last.
NO. he said, curtly, for his faulty,
thoughtless niece was no favoritc Of
his. els she gadding about again?
She will get into harm vet, IL she needs
not. No maiden should be so free with
her speech and actions as she is"
You are hard upon her." pleaded
Genna. "She is young and has the
faults of yOuth-that is all"
1T is well you think so, Genna. II
you made her share your labogs and
kept her more ut home, 'twould be bet.
ter for her now-for her in the future
But Genna paid no heed. She was
accustomed to her uncle's grumblings
about her sister by this time, and knew
they would last aS long as he was there
to grumblc.
She lit the lamp and cleared away