Year: 1873

y
T. smallest degree. When he came
q one evening and found his hostes
bustling about his room in all thG
v agony of putting things to right
/ which belongs to the nature OF or
derly housewives, he took no furthe
notice of her movements than b
q holding the door open with silen
+ patience until it pleased her to tax
o the hint and 60. That was VIVA
she complainek Of. He never spok


to her; never asked any questions hk
other strangers weuld; never evel
gave her any opening to enightel
him respecting the neighborhood, a
she dattered herself she could hav,
done. He simply dismissed her will


silent politeness, when she had onl,
been anxious to put his room int
something like decent order, ant


goodness knows it was a dishearten
ing task enough.


'Fidget!" said Mr. Caperne, brief


ly, as he looked around and proceed


ed to undo her work Then he Went


to drawer, and took out he bit of 9


picture ON which she had surmised


him to be occupied.


Mr.. Caperne worked at the picture
for an hour diligently; the rush o.


the millwheel fell upon his ear like
an accompaniment which custom OF
asso ;iation had made pleasant to him


NNaen he stopped to examine his pro-
gress, the corners of his mouth turn
ed down with an expression which
was not SO much annoyance as per-
plexity. The girlish face was there,
bent over the bunch of violets, per-
feet likeness in features and coloring;
but that one expression which had
so struck AMI haunted him, the art :
ist couldnot punt. Whereas in his
own mini this expression was dim
ly associated with wrong and suf-
ferin3, while he had looked from
time to time into the girls face all
idea of such words left him, and he
coull paint there only what was fresh
and sweet and beautiful 1t was a
beautiful face. Examining it he Won
dered whether the landlady, if she had
CHANGED to stumble upon the paint
ing in her prying visits, would
have recognized the subject of it
the fairy for whom he stayed in the
clumsy inn and haunted the Corven
woods.


The red mounted into his cheeks
at this thought. No, it was not for
her sake, but for the acquisition of a
beautif Il picture. And he then look
ed ont upon the mill, and thought
that the whirling steps are like men
who splash forever in the waters
of their own little round, and never
look beyond it, or write their
mark upon the world outside.


Today Mr.. Caperne had been dis
appointed. Corven Wood was as
bright as ever, the river like silver
sheet in the March sun, and the birds
had sung his welcome as usual, but
there. was no fairy. He began to
wonder if it were yet too late. How
could he possibly finish his picture
without another look at the original?
And there was the chance that they
might meet-accidentally, of course,
and the possibility that she would
look up and give him bow in pass
ing; for Master Tony had found out
his rescuer, and darted upon him
with noisy glee, and noisier intro
drlction to Aunt Lucy. 1t was in
curabent upon the artist to lose no
chance of making his work as perfect
as he could. By this time he had
crossed the bridge, and was entering
the little footpath that led to Corven
Wood. And the landlady, shading
her eyes from the western light,
peered after him and said: "There
he goes again; I've half a mind to fol-
low and see what is in the wood"


But Mr. Caperne was unconscious
ofhis danger; unconscious that a crisis
of his life was at hand, that he was not
to return this night nor the next, nor
for many nights-some of them long
and weary enough, to the inn by the
river.


He remembered afterwards that
some sudden presentiment quickened
at once his pulses and his step as he
drew near the spot where the pa h
fell steeply down to the river; and q
mental speech of his own, made some
days before, came across his brain
like flash of fateful meaning.


"The lad is always climbing" he
had said to himself, as he watched the
little figure swinging like a monkey
from branch to branch. Shouldn't
wonder if I have to fish him out some
day yet"


And so he had. Almost as soon
as the splash and cry rea.hed him,
Mr.. Caperne was in the water, seeing,
as he sprang, the red cap dangling in
its mocking vividness from bramble
above him. 1t was comparatively
easy to lift the drenched boy into a
position to be helped to land by the
girl standing on the rivers brink; but
Mr.. Caperne did this with his left
arm, for somehow his right was pow
erless. And then a sudden faintness
came over him; sparks danced before
his eyes; the noise and rush of the
miil-wheel seemed to draw nearer,
deafening him; and he knew no more.


When Mr.. Caperne awoke to full
consciousness, he was in bed in a