The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1895-09-19

now brings lis horses carefully down and
| down again, Though an exquisite descent
of wooded road, 10 the very door of the
| Eccles Hotel
"oh, how loveiyl" says. Lillian, softly,
as IL afraid TO speak too loud. She and
Mrs Musgrave have clamored down the
| little step-ladder brought out to help
| them from their elevated position on the
open coach, and are now looking around
them Here is the door OF the hotel, an
old iashionied, homely entrance, more
suggestive OF inn than hotel, and, indeed,
with the parts of the house on either
side OF il evidently very old, and would
no doubt contrast strangely with the long
row of new buildings that have been
tackled on 10 them in later years, but for
the fact that fiowers and clinging, trailing
greeneries have covered the house, both
old and new, with an almost riotous
growth.
IL is now latg in September, but roses
and passion flowers in full bloom arc still
crawling up the walls wherever they get
a chance, reaching the upper windows
nav. the very roof ITSELF On the left,
magnolia is covering the space between
two OF the drawing-room windows, its
white and fragrant cups that 80
strangely resem BILE the water lily gleam-
ing through the tender greenness of its
leaves, whilst geraniums show their pale
pink and scarlet brightness from even
higher up. Such luxuriant gersniums,
growing up ana up, and ever up, until
they stare out at you from under the very
leaves. To the right, some Dijon roses
are hanging their pale and fragrant heads.
"The roses at home are all gone, says
Lillian, as il to herself.
"But look at the bay dearest" says
Aunt Bessie. As il reluctantly, Lillian
runs from her contemplation OF the exquis-
ite flowers; but when she runs it is only
to give way to fresh admiration. Only the
narrow road runs between the flower
crowned hotel and the water, with its wild
wealth OF beauty, its purple mountains,
that cast their shadows deep into Its
depths it's islands clad with cleaning
Yerdure, and the soft, delicate spell OF
mist aud silence that hangs over all.
Who-who can describe that spell-the
glamour OF ii the desire, the longing TO
sink into il and dwell within its eternal
calm forever?
"Aunt Bessie, we must get boat to-
morrow and 20 out as far-as far as we
canl" says Lillian, some hours later. Din
ner is over--an excellent dinner in the
long and handsome saloon, and she and
Mrs. Musgrave, having gone upstairs to
put on some wraps, with view TO sitting
out on the esplanade and watch the grow
ing moonlight deck the waters, are now
going back TO their rooms, along the mar
row corridor.
"Well, dearest, dare say boatman
can be found" says Aunt Bessie, to
whom jigging up and down on unsteady
foundations has no charm. As for me,
you know i am bad sailor; still"
She stops short; young man coming
toward them has caught her eye.
"Why Mrs. Musgrave, II is you'll" says
the newcomer, stopping short and hold
ing out his hand with pleased surprise,
"What luckl'
"My dear Geof, so glad to see you,"
says Aunt Bessie genislly, II little tim
idly. She ls conscious of a faint feeling
of guilt. "Lilllan and only arrived this
afternoon. oh, forget; you do not know
each other This Is Geoffrey Lansdale,
dearest Lillian. She omits TO look at
her niece as she makes this somew hat IN
complete introduction, but Godfrey Lsps-