The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1900-10-25

quaint tone, like that OF Walks Lied.
est Johns Eve in Norway"
Madge would have known it at a
glance, without that label on It.
For an instant she stood staring
Then, rather that her limbs failed
under her than that she desired to sit
down opposite the picture. she dropped
upon the bench before 1t, her some
what shabbily gloyed hands folded
on her lap.
Her dress was a little shabby, too.
The long, black mourning veil clung
about her Imply. as she pushed it
back out of her way.
10 any passcr-by she might seem
but one of the crowd in the Corcoran
Gallery on this free day
But Madge, the real Madge was not
here at all She was yonder in the
picture. in the midsummer night in
the midst Of the st. Johns Eve pro-
cession.
year ago. Was it only year
ago?-it seemed a lifetime, back into
that happy Wanderjahr which ended
so abruptly.
1t was on the homeward passage to
America that her father had died.
suddenly. of heart failure. it was said.
But Madge knew he had gotten his
death blow from the latest American
paper which the pilot brought on
board as they entered the bay, a pa
per lightly opened. and which CON
tained latest particulars of the great
bank failure, sweeping clean away the
fortune he had meant to leave his
child.
"A Madge, bending over
him, had caught that last FAINT word
upon his lips. "A beggar
Madge Strengthened herself and
knotted her hands about the little
black silk bag which had carried her
lunch this morning 10 the office. and
which was now bringing back in It's
mouth n bunch of field daisies bought
from street hoy on the way up town
A beggar?-no. but never farther re-
become worker.
But that Wanderiahr, In which her
only work had seemed to he TO work
out her own happiness
The glamour OF il was in her eyes.
gazing back into the picture. How
like one valley to another. sunk among
those Scandinavian mountains. 1t
might have been this very one. into
which she and her party had descend
ed, drenched with sudden cloudburst
on the mountain top. There was moth
ing for it but to borrow peasant cos
tunes at the friendly guard below:
and bright color fushes up AIadge's
face now as she feels again the eyes
OF the artist of the party upon her.
as, with the farmers daughter. the
three girls travelling together come
out, and for moment fall into line
with the ST. Johns Eve dancers troop
ing there from the neighboring vii
lage.
She remembers it all; the artists
eyes, as he looked on; the speedy de-
tectica OF the three make-believc vii
iage girls; the merry stlrs, the laugh
ter and light repartee among the tour.
lists; the gay village music the farm
house glowing in the background, It's
tall chimney ending in a cross, built
high against he sky
How like, how like II was.
But Madge's thought broke off with
a gasp.
In one of those faces. half turned
toward her, she had recognized her
own, ms in Il looking glass.
How well-too well-she remem-
bered! The artists eyes; no words
of his. Few words had passed be-
tween them, indeed, though for three
weeks they had been meeting almost
daily.
over those uncrOwded routes the
ways of sight-seers are apt to cross
and re-cross; as had theirs from the
time when. with an apology. he put
an extra rug across her lap In the
weird day-night when she sat on the
deck of the stout coast steamer, watch
Ing for the midnight sun OF Norway.
to that Eve of 81, John that midsum-
mer eve. which ended It all. For while
Madge slept in the queer little nest
under the caves. and dreamed her
strange, bright, confused, little. inno-
cent midsummer nights dream in
which fairies and peasants dances
were intertwlned in Titania's train.nnd
the artist was Lysander standing
apart, looking on at it all, with his
hands in his pockets and cigar in
his mouth and that in his eyes.
Madge's color was Pickering up into
her weary face again at that memory,
and then 1t faded out; for while she
slept her father had been revising his
plans for further travel. That unlucky
meeting OH the mountain had damp
ened his desire for northern travel. The
next morning (when the artist had gone
forward with the tacit understanding
that at the foot of certain famous
waterfall, deep in the mountain fast
ness. one might very well meet mid
summer friends again over rather
late breakfast her father unfolded his
new arrangement to AIadge. They
would retrace their way ana take tho
returning steamer on the morrow; ant
after all return home to America .
little earlier. "Ater all, there Is moth
lug much better than the home noun
tains and seashore for the summer
weather, Is there? And then
Madge--"
But there had been no 'and then
for poor little Madge. Tier story wal