The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-02-15
PART I.

PART /.
Gerald Rayburn alghted from the
train at the Clermont Ferrand station.
He had come from the south after
few months lounging through and
about Mines, Aries and Aigues Mortes,
and a sideswing off to lie Puy. Ger
aid Rayburn did not enjoy travelling
on tourists lines He preferred to go
to places that are generally passed over
in the hurry of the average three
months trip-places which possess
their monuments "unrestored" by the
march of progress, and where sight
seeing is not marred by the abomina-
tions of the Snowman. Rome, with her
segregations of ruins in the midst of
modern city, poisoned his delight by
suggesting the "Old London street" on
Broadway, and he had actually given
up projected journey to Athens when
he learned that tramways ran through
the principal avenues.
Perhaps you may gather from this
that Gerald Rayburn was something
of romanticist. Possibly he was. He
had cast aside a fair legal practice to
depend upon microscopic income and
the slender returns from his pen-so
only, that freedom and the power to
crafty his tastes could be assured to
him. He loved nature and he loved art
but, above all, he loved the past with it's
philosophic or romantic living as op-
posed to the moneybag philistinsm of
today. He loved the associations that
clustered about spots where great
events had happened, and he liked to
wander among them until his at
mosphere became filled with the
Wraiths of togaed senators and girls in
Towering tunics, lovely chatelaines and
mail-cla knights. He had pored over
coin of Tiberius until the romance of
it's history seemed to speak out from
the worn and battered lips of the bronze
emperor; he had sat upon the great
walls of Aigues Mortes until he had
made friends with the little green liz
ards and learned from them their ira
ditions of the terrible Burgundian
night; while high up, from the weird
monolithic fortress of Les BauX, he
had, on fancy, beheld it's counts riding
forth to feud or foray, winding down
through rocky gorges, to burst out, in
all the glitter of feudal panoply, upon
the plain below.
People who were inclined to be prac-
teal had long since set Gerald Ray
burn down for an altogether dreamy,
self-centered and unhuman individual;
but that these structures were not un-
qualifiedly just may in a measure ap-
pear from the fact that when he alight-
ed at the Clermont-F -Ferrand station,
the one thing he was longing for most
of all was to hear a few words of good,
1ntelligible United States. His French
was not enjoyable, either to himself or
others, nor did he feel that it was es-
peclally reliable outside of a few
stereotyped situations. How far the
eagerness to revel in the terse vigor of
his native tongue was sharpened by
the fact that he had just heard it
normally spoken for the first time in
month, and how far by the fact that
the speaker was a remarkably pretty
girl, l cannot presume to measure. To
my way of thinking, if the latter cir
cumstance had anything to do with
his enthusiasm, it furnishes another
argument in favor of the human side
of his character.
The words-some passing comment
attracted his attention to the speaker
and to the person to whom they were
addressed. Both We're young women
somewhere about twenty-three or
twenty-four years of age; both We're
dressed in business-like travelling
gowns, and neither was ill-faVOred,
though the former had by far the larg-
er share of good looks. Shall I de-
scribe her? Beauty of all kinds has
been described SO often; and when you
bear in mind the carte blanche for in
vention which my position gives, 1 can
hardly see why my statements should
be of interest. Still, between our
selves and honestly, Miss Miriam Low
ell, which happened to be the name on
her valise trunk, was rather under
middle height, slenderly built, with
small, aristocratic features and light
brown hair. If any criticism could be
made upon her appearance, it would
be that the expression of the mouth
and eyes was just trifle to naughty
and independent for so perfectly femi-
nine setting. Her friend was rather
taller, rather stouter rather darker
and rather more assertive looking.
That was all that Rayburn could grasp
before he saw them both captured by
the agent of the Hotel du Louvre and
deposited in a stage.