Year: 1878

"I believe have given all the orders,
Alma, Just as you wished. The little
library is already arranged with the last
little bracket and statue in place the
lining-room and kitchen with china, sill
YER, linen and superb old-fashioned
sideboard, just as you directed, have
everything in place. And your room
how wish you could go and see it's
beautiful. There can be no greater
harmony than the blending blue-and-
gold furnishings of that ROOM"


"You are very good, Arthur"


Thanks, Alma but not half 80 good
as you in loving me SO tenderly and
loyalty. But was bothered about one
thing, sweet"


"What was it 2"


Your writing-desk. 1t is such
gem. don't believe you can ever write
anything but poetry at it. could not
get place in the library for it to suit
me. This light was too sharp, and that
light too duh. I fancied it needed o
soft, mellow light, so 1 set it in your
room, and will leave you to arrange a
place for it. hatter myself that every
thing else will please you."


"The pictures T.


"They are all hung. / can hardly
tell You now where each one is. The
Beatrice Cenci hung over the library
door which enters TO your ROOM"


"Why, what made you give it such a
poor place as that?"


For Just one little reason of my own.
Her great, sad, suffering, patient eyes
are duplicates of your own. SO have
hung it there as sign to me that the
door beneath it opens to q place wherein
the goddess of my life presides; also
that when the door is shut, your face
shall still look down upon me, and fol-
low me with mournful and guardful
tenderness"


"Though your love and fancy, Arthur,
make my eyes o.day as luminous as
Psyche's, perhaps tomorrow those that
love me most may forget or wish to for
get that l ever existed; for who can de-
termine now whether Psyche, the very
idol of all poets, was reality or q
dream"


"But tomorrow you will become all
the reality my life shall ever know ol
wish, for tomorrow, when the priest
has had his service and the witnesses
have written their names, and youl
dainty finger has q new ring upon it,
shall set you down in the pretty gold
and-blue room where Beatrice keeps
guard. Then you shall dismiss or re
tain the historical sentinel as you please
for you shall fill all my to.morsows witt
your own sweet self. D."


He took both her slender white hands
in parting, and said:


Remember, we are to be prompt!
at the church at four. Good-by, sweet
till then"


Her eyes filed with tears, and sh
clung to him tenderly as if she woulC
not have him go; but she only said:


Well, Arthur, let Beatrice sta.
where she is, and whenever you look a
her think of me, if you will"


This last so low that he did not hear
But he went out busy and happy will
thoughts of his wedding day.


Alma stood still until the door closeC
behind him, then she clasped her hand
and cried:


"Who am /? What am / ? that
should deceive such a man..


When Arthur went on the morro'
where the merry guests we're assemble
for the wedding, the white-robed brid
was gone but in her room was foun
a note for Arthur Leroy, which read


"Arthur, forgive me. have nc
meant to deceive you. How it has a
come about / hardly know any bette
than yourself. But true it is that whe
you read this 1 shall be the wife {
another. Farewell, and may your mob
heart find forgetfulness of AIMA."


Five years after, Arthur Leroy wi
standing watching the silent, dark-eye'
picturesque group which sat on the gra
steps of the Trinita di Monte in Rom
While he stood and looked, tall, grac
full woman dressed in mourning can
down the street and stood beside hin
She glanced hurriedly at the san