The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1896-06-16

asked for opinions on Mr.. Irying's latest
Shakesperian impersonation.
II can't endure Irving in young char.
acters such as Hamlet and Romeo"
Rosalind said. "They make him look as
old as Methuselah."
''And Miss Terry is scarcely so young
as she was" Brandon politely hinted.
'She must be under fifty, though, Mr..
Brandon" Rosalind gently corrected,
"but what Is that 10 "a genius?"
"Do you-ah-do you like Ibsen?"
asked the unfortunate Carr, addressing
Margery.
"I don't know. mayn't know without
asking mamma" she replied, demurely.
peoples mammas don't seem TO admire
him much
1T is quite possible to object to prob,
lem plays and Ibsenism without being
an absolute dragon of propriety," Rosa
nnd coaroborated with severity, and
Miss Stanes is still young and-tender.
A shipwrecked crew might choose her
for dinner, like poor little Billee, in the
ballad"
"Till I'm roused," corroborated Miss
Staines; "then can be as wiclscd-aa
the devil"
SAY, and hit rs hard" Sir Wilfred
was heard murmuring acidly TO him
self between his teeth. as Eosalind
rather suddenly rose, and he went 10
open the door for the ladies.
"What the deuce is the matter with
those two girls to-night?" Gerald Dover
wondered to himself when they were
gone; Carr hasn't made any running
as yet. doubt if he ever will.'
"My dearest Margery," said the wears
wife on reaching the drawing-room, Il
am grieved to hear you allowing your
self the sad license of speech character
istic of too nany young women Of the
present day."
1T was horrid of me, wasn't it?" she
smiled back with infnntile cbeerfulncss
and candor, "but il was only quota
tion after ALL"
Not from Ibsen, / earnestly trust"
"Oh no! not from Ibsen, dear. IL
didn't sound SO, now, did it?"
II am happily unacquainted with
these new writer's, my dear, SO cannot
tell"
iub WHY Oh DiS
hostess, later in the evening, did you
say you were ugly? We're you never
taught that 1T is wrong to tell stories?"
IL beg your pardon, Mr.. Brandon. l
said was plain, and SO i am, both in
speech and action"
well, but Miss Staines declared that
your temper was something awful"
Such temper she said. She
meant such delightfully."- sweet tenn
per. But L can't answer for it myself.
1t was kind of Margie, though"
They were having coffee on n terrace,
whence the castle, all silver-steeped in
moonlight, and peep of sea between
the two hill-slopes, could be seen.
Cockchafers were still droning In the
almond-scented clematis, little warm
breeze stirred .he beech tops, yellow
corn stood in aisle on a slope above the
peaceful village. where little orange
dots suggested homesteads, the tree
shadowed lawns and dim, dreaming
flowers looked magical and unreal in
the silvery light. Arthur Brandon's
thoughts ran into involuntary rhyme;
he had never been so happy in his iife,
yet he wished the never before coveted
burden of riches were his; still more.
he wished Rosalind Ormond poor. Sir
Wilfred and some other vandals were
spelling the dewy flower scents with
cigars, Sir Wilfred wondering If he
could possibly put up with the prom
ised week at Gerald Dover's seaside cot
tage and continual meetings with the
Carlen people, after this unlucky fiasco.
sand to crown ALL" he reflected, Il
must needs try to kiss the wrong girl.
How like my luck!"
But even Carr was Tar happier than
he deserved to be--thc dust and stones
incommoding him in the afternoon now
strewed the carpet of his dressing-room
he had sort of vague idea that the
best thing would be to sit on the terrace
forever and ever and watch the tiny
ship sailing far and far away on the
moonlit sea, and the proud castle in the
mystic light dreaming of it's vanished
glories,' and the village nesting in the
foliage by the church tower at the foot
of the castlesl steep.
But Brandon, the briefess, the inn
pecunious, the blessed, saw more; he
saw n shadowy company OF plumed
knights ride with far-off clang over the
drawbridge, saw the moon rays glitter
ing on the steel breast-plates of men,
alarms; saw banners fluttering lightly
as the gray moths on the terrace, fair
ladies leaning from the battlements.
Nay, fairer ladies' than any Of old moved
in white shining raiment among the
tower-scents on the terrace; their
voices had the hushed charm impaired
by open air anu stiffness; their eyes
were softer than silvery summer stars
In the pale moonlit sky. Minstrels OF