The Opelousas courier., 1895-08-24
RAYNER'S ROMANCE.

ance during my last term at Oxford
He came up, for commemoration, tt
stay with a friend of mine at Balliol
and / met him at luncheon in the lat
ter's room. A large party was as
sembled to do honor to the distin
guished novelist. l believe most of u.
were disappointed in him. We ex
pected to find his conversation a:
brilliant as his books. Every time he
opened his lips we pricked u ears fol
something striking. But it did not
come. He talked little, and that little
by no means above the common level
Jones, the hero of our debating society,
could have given him points. The gen
eral verdict was that, as a lion al
luncheon, Martin Rayner had failed.
In the middle of July-a month OF
SO after our last meeting at Oxford
had a letter from Rayner asking me to
spend a few weeks with him at his
country cottage in Somersetshire. l
gladly accepted the invitation. Ray
ner lived on the eastern side of that de-
lightful country, near where it adjoins
the Wiltshire border. 1t was a quaint
little hamlet, five miles from a station
and seven from a town. 1t lay in a
hollow among wooded slopes and un-
d~ulating pastures. Away down the
valley eastward ran a nameless little
river, showing, on sunny days, a silver
patch here and there among the mead
ows. until it lost itself in the distant
shadows under Salisbury plain.
It vas just the spot for a poet: a
very paradise for a dreamer. A sleepy
stiffness held possession everywhere; a
silence that to me, a Londoner, was
positively startling.
During my first few days with Ray
ner | could not get rid of the inn
preston that something had stopped
in the earth's machinery. 1t made me
feel 'unked," as they say down there.
But, of course, l soon grew accustomed
to it. And besides, so much of an alb
sorbing nature happened to me there
as quite to withdraw my notice from
external surroundings. However, I
must not anticipate.
I arrived at Rayner's on a Saturday
evening. The next morning broke fine
and pleasant, and Rayner took me to
the village church. TITS place of wor-
ship was a queer little building more
queer than pretty. The Architecture
was mixed. 1t represented nearly
every order from early English to early
Georgian. There were also repairs ex-
ecuted after a still more modern style.
BY what title to dignity the latter l do
not know. I should imagine, however,
that It had been especially invented by
some enterprising local builder. The
service was equally hybrid. Old-fash-
toned and new-fangled.
High church and low church forms
were all strangely conglomerated. The
Fsrson himself was not an exhilarating
specimen. He was fat and pursy, with
q red nos and a wheezy voice. His
surplice was none of the cleanest; the
skirt of his cassock was frayed round
the bottom. 1t struck me hat his hair
and beard both demanded the immedi-
ate attention of a hairdresser. His
e%locution was as slovenly as his per-
son. How he did drone the prayersl
How he did sing-song the sermon!
/ should have fallen fast asleep, but
my attention was attracted to a rustic
beauty in a neighboring pew. / am
not generally at all susceptible to
female charms, but the girls face
struck me at once. 1 have never seer
another in the least resembling it.
I do not think it conformed to the
the proper u o of beauty. But /
cannot be sure. When you see a splen-
did sunset, you do not stop to con-
slider whether the details Of the land
scape, which that crimson glory floods,
are in themselves artistic. l was con-
scious OF two glorious eyes, of a sweet
expression %thereupon reflected, but Of
nothing else. 1t created rather an odd
sensation. If you believe me, it raised
something of a lump in my throat. l
have felt the same kind of emotion
when / have read the story of Thomas
Newcome answering adsum. Queer, is
1t not? ! told Rayner about it some
time afterward. He did not call me a
sentimental ass as any of my Oxford
cronies would have done; on the con-
trary, he smiled on me very kindly.
my dear boy" he said, "a quarto
volume might be written on the init
mate connection between the beautiful
and the pathetic. / am inclined to
think that there is something touching
in all true loneliness. You speak Of
Thomas Newcomers death. Does it
make you feel sad to read it? I venture
to say not. It's sublime beauty touches
y~ou-springs the trap of your higher
emotions. But you cannot feel sad at
the lovely ending of SO lovely a life.
The pathos Of that incompatible scene
depends upon, nay, consists OF, its sur
prising beauty. Be thankful that true
beauty in any Of its shapes is able to
call up In you these higher sensations!'
After service was over Rayner and 1
stood waiting outside the church door.
It was his custom, he told me, to have
the vicar and his family dine with him
every Sunday, and they always walked
hack together.
We are very intimate, y said Rayner.
Il am godfather of two of his children.
They regard me quite as one Of the
family"
! heard this with some surprise.
That obvious dullard Of a parson
seemed hardly the sort OF man with
whom Rayner should be intimate. But,
OF curse. / did not express my sur
prise, merely asking Of whom the vi
cars family consisted.
His wife. a daughter and three
sons" Rayner told me. "But here they
come. / must put you through the
ceremony Of introduction,"
looked toward the church porch. II
scarcely noticed the others. Ny eyes
yVern nxnd IN nno face Co ~ -,,c4;c I