Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1908-01-15
cHAPTEr I.

of which twists in and out, as 1t FOL
lows their curves, a placid, peaceful
river. Opposite these hills, and run
ming beside the river, are long-stretch-
ing meadows, brilliantly green which
fresh-springing grass, and gorgeously
yellow with uewly-opened buttereups.
Above, the sunset sky CLEANS ana
CLOVIS with fiery red and rich deep
crromes. And London is almost with
in sight.
II is a beautiful scene, such as one
sees only in this England of OURS
scene that defies poet and painter.
At this very moment it is defying one
of the latter ge.4s; for in room Of a
Sow-browed, thatched-roofed cottage
which stood on the margin OF the
meadow. James Etheridge sat beside
his easel, his eyes fixed on the picture
framed in the open window, his brush
and mahlstick dropping in his idle
hand.
Unoonsciously he. the painter, made
a picture worthy of study. Tall, thin,
delicately made. with pale face
crowned and set in softly-fowing white
hair, with gentle. dreamy eyes efer
seeking the infinite and unknown, he
looked like one of those figures which
the old Fioreltle artists used to love
to put upon their eanvasas, and which
when OIL sees even now makes one
strangely sad and thoughtful
The room was fitting frame for
the human subject; it was true
painters studio-untidy, disordered.
and picturesque. Finished and unin-
ished pictures hung or leant against
the walls, suits OF armor, antique
weapons, strange costumes Uttered the
floor or hung Imply over medieval
chairs; books, some in bindings which
would have made the mouth Of con-
noisseur water, lay open upon the
table or were piled in a distant corner
And over all silence-unbroken save
by the sound of the water rushing over
the weir, or the birds which lifted by
the open wtpdos-refgned supreme
The old man sat Cor some time lis
teniHg to Natures music, and lost in
dreamy admiration of her loveliness,
until the striking Of the church clock
foated from the village behind the
house; then, with start, he rose, took
up his brushes, and turned again to
the easel. An hour passed, and still
he worked, the picture growing be
meath the thin skiIlful hand; the birds
sank into silence, the red faded slowly
from the sky, night unfolded its dark
mantle ready to let it fall upon the
workaday world.
Silence so profound took 70 Itself
the likeness of loneliness; perhaps the
old man felt it so, for as he glanced at
the waning light and lay his brush
down, he put his hand to his brow and
sighed. Then he turned the picture
on the easel, made his way with some
little difficulty, owing to the litter
across the room, found and lit an old
briar-wpod pipe. and dropping into the
chair again, fixed his eyes upon the
scene, and fell into the dreamy state
which was habitual with him
So lost IN pUrposeless memory was
he, that the opening of the door failed
to rouse him.
It was opened very gently and
slowly and as slowly and noiselessly
young girl, after pausing a moment
at the threshold, stepped into the
room. and stood looking round her
and at the motionless figure in the
chair by the window.
She stood for full minute, her hand
still holding the handle of the door. as
If she were not certain of her well
come-as if the room were strange to
her, then, with a little hurried pres
sure of her hand 10 her bosom, she
moved toward the window.
AS she did so her foot struck
against piece of armor, and the noise
aroused the old man and caused him
to look round.
With start he gazed at the girl
as II impressed with the idea that she
must be something unsubstantial and
yisionary-some embodiment of his
evening dreams, and so he sat looking
at her, his artist eye taking in the
1.-the, graceful figure. the beautiful
face, with its dark eyes and long,
sweeping lashes, It's clearly panciled
brows, and soft, mobile lips, in rapt
absorpt on.
1t is possible that If she had turned
and left him. never to have crossed
into his life again. he would have sunk
back into dreamland, and to the end
of his days have regarded her as I'M
real and visionary; but. with a subtle,
graceful movement, the grl threaded
the maze of litter and disorder and
stood beside him
He, still looking up, saw that the
beautiful eyes ere dim, that the ex-
quisitely curved lips were quivering
with some intense emotion and sud
denly there broke upon the silence a
low, sweet voice.
Are you James Etheridge?"
The artist started It was not the
words. but the tone-the voice that
startled him, and for a brief second ne
was still dumb, then he rose, and look
ing at her with faint, trembling ques
tioning, he answered:
eyes. that is my name | am James
Etiieridge."
Her lips quivered again. but still
nUtefdY and cimnIy che said.