The Ordway new era., 1913-01-31

beadwork, to which were attached
wax figures In high relief: at the top.
miniature portrait of Charles II. in
his state robes; at the bottom. one
of Nell herself. in court dress. The
king appeared also on the right. in
hunting costume. and on the left was
another figure Of his favorite in less
ornamental garb. According to the
legend which accompanied this in
| teresting antique. 1t was Nell
Gwynne's own handiwork
1t possessed for me certain fas-
cination due more to its history than
| its beauty. for it was not the most
| artistic Of creations, and as Cameron
poked about for his Baudelaire, l
stood gazing at the glass and think
ing Of all l had ever read OF the H.
literate. but saucy. sprightly actress
whose sole claim to fame hung on her
| winning the favor of that easy.going.
royal hypocrite. Charles II.
| Here's the binding!" heard Cam
eron say. and turned from the mirror
to the table. where he had found his
sought-for treasure beneath a pile Of
heavier. grosser works
|
binding" he went on. with enthusi-
asm. Now examine that carefully,
and tell me II you ever saw anything
more exquisite. had 1t done in Lon
don. last year. It's a copy Of one of
LIE Gascon's"
At first sight 1t seemed all glitter
Ing gold. but on closer inspection I
found that the groundwork was bright
red morocco. inlaid with bun. olive.
and marble leather. the spaces close
ly filled with very delicate and beau
tiful pointille traceries. 1t was YER
liable gem In Its way, and I could not
blame Cameron for his raptures.
| When I had applauded and be-
praised to his content. he took the lit
tie volume from my hand and open
ing 1t. with sort of slow reverence.
observed with something like patron
ism:
Pm afraid you don't quite under
stand Baudelaire'
| Does anybody" flung back.
He is not so obscure as his criticA
would have US believe" Cameron as
serted. sit down in that lounging
chair a moment. and Ill read you
something" And as l obeyed. he
drew up a chair for himself. speaking
all the while in denunciation OF Toll
stoi and the injustice of his criticism.
| One poem after another he read,
while I lay back listening. To his
credit he read them we'll. though ha
paused often in mid-verse to exp. Il
what he thought l might regard as an
| n a NO q
IAN intentional obscurity."
There was one verse which i'm
pressed me particularly as he read
1t. and remained with me for a long
while afterward. for, in view OF every
thing. 1t seemed to have a special ap-
positiveness. The lines to which I
refer have been translated In this
way:
| From Heavens high balconies
See! in their threadbare robes the dead
| years cast their eyes.
And from the depths below regrets wan
| smile appears.
door leading to the passageway, and
facing. diagonally. across the table.
the Nell Gwynne mirror. My own
| gaze was on him as he read.
As he finished the verse. a portion
of which have quoted. he lifted his
eyes. I thought to meet mine, but his
look rose over my head. and chung.
while his lids widened, and into every
| line Of his face there came a rigid,
startled expression. half amazement,
| half horror. And in that instant of
tense silence the "Fleurs du Nal"
slipped from his nerveless fingers.
struck the table edge. and dropped
with unseemly echo to the floor.
In a breath was on my feet and
staring where his vision had focused.
hardly know what l expected to see.
| am sure nothing would have sur
prised me. And yet I was scarcely
prepared for the lnexplicable ruin
which my sight encountered. The
glass of the Nell Gwynne mirror was
in atoms.
Cameron rose, little unsteadily ]
thought, and coming around the table.
Joined me in closer inspection OF his
wrecked hereditament. I can find no
! word adequate to the description of
what we experienced. Amusement
and all Its synonyms are far too
feeble for the task. We were certain
ly more than appalled,. What we saw
suggested to me spontaneous disin-
tegration. II such a thing were pos
sible, which I believe 1t is not. It
might have explained the condition Of
the mirror. No other ascription
seemed admissible; for, though the
glass remained in its frame not SO
much as a splinter having been
dropped. It was fractured into a
thousand tiny pieces. resembling
crystal mosaic, incapable OF any but
the most minute reflections And the
change to this condition from a fair,
unmarried panel had been wrought