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rK! wm lxt WLitMix Silu $: cfuucTaij Blcrrumg, avcfe 9, 1890. 11 1 lv taore inute and statue tike if she tsc: been bom and bred in France, where, in the presence of gentlemen, young girls silently adhere to their brilliant mothers, whose wit and grace and social tact make the charm of the Parisian salons. Apparently, the French, consider that the combined attractions of youthful faces wild sprightly conversation would be too iuch for any man, and mercifully di vide the two. And this leaves them help ess before a little American girl, laugh ing, talking, jesting, teasing, till, bewil dered by such a phenomenon, they are swept down so easy that one is reminded of Attila's taunt to the Komans, "The thicker the grass, tb.2 quicker it is mowed." This social etiquette was very irksome to my little firefly, who seemed always opening and shutting her wings. In the course of the evening II. Vergniaud slipped into her hand, unperceived by any of us, a closed envelope with the whisper: "Put it in your pocket. Do not let any one see you." She opened it deliberately: "51. Vergn iaud ia so land as to give me his pho tograph, Mme. Fleming. Do you think it a good likeness?" The mystery which French people are fond of attaching to harmless trifles is inconceivable. One evening, in the ear lier part of our stay in Paris, a cousin of Miss St. Clair's, who was in the same hotel with Mr. Denham, called on us, and when he was taking leave she held out an unsealed note: "Will you give this to Fred? Don't forget it." 3Ime. Le Fort was thunderstruck: "la it possible? Send a note to a young gen tleman right before 3Ime. Fleming and all of ust" "Why," said I, "do young people never write notes to each other in France?" "Not openly like that little three cor nered notes to slip into the hand while dancing." "This is the way to fold them," said Clarice, taking up a small sheet of paper. You see that will just lit into the hol low of the hand, and nobody could ever see it." "I like our way much better. What is done openly is not half so mischievous." "Nor half so interesting," rejoined Clarice. The nimble hours danced on. as they had a trick of doing in ilme. Le Fort's salon. "I am afraid you forget the three balls, M. Vergniaud." "How can you be so cruel, mademoi selle? I shall only make my compliments to the hostess and dance one set at each. I never do more except when I come here " A few days later I asked Helen, "Have you made upyour mind what answer to give M. Vergniaud? He intends to write to your father. He was speaking to me about it again today." "I won't have him writing to my fath er," she replied with her wonted impetu osity. "I will not have my father wor ried about nothing. It would be a month before I could set it right." "He eems to be very much in love with you. He says he shall be in despair, wretched forever, if ybu reject him." "So they all say I don't believe a word of it, and I can't help it if they are. I can't marry more than one of them, and I don't believe I shall ever marry anybody. I won't be persecuted to death." The little princess was irritated. Some thing had evidently gone wrong. It soon came out: "1 had a letter from Fred this morninp; a very disagreeable letter." "Indeed! You have not yet answered it, I suppose." "No: he will have to write differently from that before he gets any answer from me. I am not going to be lessoned and scolded as if I were a little girl. Father never does it, and I will not submit to it from him." After a pause: "He is not so much to blame. It is that odious Mr. Wilkins, who keeps writing to him how much attention I receive, and all that. As if I could help it! Poor old Fred! We have known each other ever since we were children." That explains it, I thought. "Helen, if you have decided to say no to M. Vergn iaud, the sooner you sav it the better." "I have said it and he doesn't mind it in the least. I wish you would tell him you always speak so that people know you are in earnest and can't help believ ing you." "Very well, Helen. I will ask 3Imt l Fort to tell him tliat his suie is Kpe- leis, and that lie must not annoy you by persisting in it." Early in February the Belgian ambas sador, 31. Ie conite de Beyens and Ma lume la comtesse kindlv took chanro of Mu St. Clair to the imperial ball at the j Tuileries. She had never looked inoro oharuiing than in the exquisite costume of pale rote colored faille, with a floating mist of white tulle, caught here and there by roebuda that might have grown in Chriinhild's garden. The airy figure, so graceful in every motion, the well poised head ith its flutter of shining curls, the wonderful dark eyes, the perfect eye brows, the delicious little mouth where love seemed to nestle when she had vanished it beeined like the ceaing of exquisite music." Madame la comtesse congratulated me on her appearance, and afterward on her success. The emperor had distinguished her in a very flatter ing manner, and Eugenie. looking earn estly at her. said to the comtesse. "Noth ing is so beautiful as youth," perhaps be ginning to regret her own. No one had made so decided a sensation. At Mme. Le Fort's next reception there was a sudden influx of new guests a young Belgian baron of old historic name, slim and stiff as a poker: a brisk French viscount, who told me that he had been connected with the embassy at Washington, and had quite failen in love with our institutions; an Italian chevalier, a Russian pnnce. Uglines: liHsits compensations.thought I. Nobodr makes such a fuss oter a pretty gin ai home (they are not so un common), and 1 will" never bring one to Paris atpim. Thank heaven! we are go ing to Italy scon. The piercing Tramontane came down upon us in the bay of Napies with so fierce a blast that ,we doubted if we were tioi in Iceland, and were glad to make ;ir escape to Rome, where we found an v -ylum in the Hotel de Minerve, not far rrom the Pantheon. Many of the old palaces and convents of Italy have been transformed into hotels. This was the ancient palace of the princes of Conti. I was so captivated by the superb dining room that the quality of the dinners made but a faint impression. What! eat in the presence of all those marble god desses, looking down upon us. serene and culd. as if from their thrones on the starry Olympus! Or if I turned my eyes reso lutely away from Juno, Ceres and Mi aerva, they were sure to be snared by the dancing girls of Pompeii stepping out from the frescoed walls or inextricably entangled in the lovely garlands of fruit and flowers that wound their mazy way along the borders. One evening, while wo were waiting for one of the endless courses of a table d'hote dinner, my wandering eyes were caught by the most perfect human head I had ever seen. It seemed that of the youthful Lord Byron, so well known in busts and engravings the small head with high forehead and clustering dark brown curls, the perfectly molded chin, the full, ripe beauty of the lips. The eyes were a deep blue, but I thought them black at first, they were so darkly shaded by the thick black lashes. I am convinced that Byron must have had just such eyes, for some of his biographers describe them as black and others as blue. When he rose from the table I saw a slight, well knit figure -of exquisite pro portions, like the Greek god of love. (Not Cupid with his vulgar arrows, but the true heavenly Eros. I saw him once in the museum at Naples and again in the Vatican. Is it Love, or Death, or Immortality? I queried, and then I knew it was the three in one.) I soon learned that the youth whose ideal beauty had impressed me so strongly was the Count Francisco de Al vala, of Toledo, in Spain. I fancy that his eyes were as easily attracted to beauty as mine; for the next day he was my visa-vis at table; not for the sake of look ing at me, I was well aware, but on ac count of my beautiful neighbor. How ever, he sought my acquaintance with the grave courtesy becoming a grandee of Spain, and naturally gained that of Miss St. Clair also. -rzS&ZPfc rw i$ There teas a sudden influx of new guests. It is the most natural thing in the world to make acquaintances in Rome. People talk toge er of the things they have seen or wish to see: they go to the same places by day. and in the evening they meet in the ladies' parlor to com pare their impressions. The young count never failed to join us in the evening. He had always something to show us prints of his home in Spain, articles of virtu that he had bought, sketches that he had made, for he was a good amateur artist. A group of young people of different nations generally collected on these oc casions, and the conversation often turn ed on the usages peculiar to their re spfctive countries. "In Spain I could not greet a lady with a simple good evening." said the count, "I should say, 'Permit the humblest of your servants to lay himself at your feet,' or something like that." "Why do you not say it to us?' asked a bright eyed Canadian girl. "Well, it might be a little awkward if you should happen to take it literally. In Spain it is the merest commonplace." "If such exaggerated phrases are frit tered into commonplaces, and the most impassioned words grow meaningless, what can a Spanish gentleman find to say when his heart is really touched?" I in quired. "I fancy wo should find some very simple words to say it in," said the boy, flushing hkea girl. "But I do not know I have never learned." "Talk some more," commanded the little princess t i rs "If a pretty young lady is walking mtneck) tQ whichwas attached a lar; our streets a mantle is often flunjr sua denly in her way, and proud and happy is its owner if she deigns to set her dainty foot upon it." "What do they do that for? Because the streets are so muddy?" inquired an obtuse young woman. But nobody vol unteered to enlighten her. "Cannot we go to Spain?' asked MLsa St. Clair. "I should like to see a mod ern Sir Walter Raleigh." "If the senorita should appear in our streets thev would be strewn with man tles," said the young count gallantly. "Would you throw down youis for me to step upon?' "Surely, senorita." "I'll come then. It must be of velvet, mind." "Yes. studded with jewels." I loved the beautiful youtii. His pres ence was like a poem in my life, and if it ever occurred to me that the familiar intercourse of trie voung people might not be altogether prudent, I dismissed it j with the thought. He is only a boy. . There was to be an illumination of the Coliseum. We were going of course, and Count Alvala begged that I would ' honor lum by making use of his carriage on this occasion. "Thank you, but Ij have already spoken to Piero to come for , us." j "Oh. but we can send liimaway. You will find my carriage more comfortable, and it will be in every way pleasanter," i he urged beseechingly; but my negative ' was peremptory. Eight o'clock came. Miss St. Clair 1 and I descended to the court of the hotel, but where was Piero? "It is singular. Hrf trie nnror li-r Yfrya K1- T ,,i rn-. ! ndent"that he"will be here presently r I,., .,r,i r ,,v o ki., ' i The minutes went by, 3nd they were long minutes. It was awkward waitinsr in so public a place. The count had joined us with his friend, an Italian mar- j quis some SO years of age. with whom we una a sngnt acquaintance, ine count's handsome equipage was drawn up near us. There was no Piero. j "I really think you had better accept j mr- rAMnf, f-rtonrl iviTTTirm Tt- Tr.Ir? I FwVr ; r ,nn,lV sia ! - f. "" - c- wr-..v..t, said the marquis. We entered the carriage. The count wrapped us in a magnificentfeather robe, such as the Montezuinas wore, for the April nights in Rome are chill, however hot the sunsliine. It was strange to see the Forum, ordinarily solitary and des olate, now thronged with an eager mul titude on foot and with numerous open carriages, in which were seated ladies in full dress as at the opera with us. Ar riving at the Coliseum, we left the car riage and passed through the huge por tal. Tha cloorav arches were ohscurAlv seen in the dusky Roman twilight, when suddenly, as if by magic, every arch and crevice of the gigantic ruin glowed, in carnadined, as if dyed with the blood of the martyrs that had drenched its soil. There were salvos of artillery, bursts of military music and a few vivas from the multitude. A brilliant spectacle, but the tender beauty of moonlight harmonizes better with the solemnity of ruins. Rapt in the memories that the scene awakened, I paid little attention to the monologue of my Italian friend, when I was suddenly roused by the question, "Did you ever see a prettier couple?" "Who?"' I asked absently. "There," ha rejoined, pointing to the count and Miss St. Clair, who preceded us. "He is too young," I replied, but the question was asked so significantly that it disturbed me a little, and I resolved to be more cautious than heretofore. The next morning Piero appeared with his carriage to take us to the Baths of Caracalla. He hoped madame did not lose the illumination. He was wretched to disappoint madame; he begged a thousand pardons. Hia little boy was taken violently ill: he was forced to go for the doctor: madame was so good. The truth flashed upon me: "Piero, how much did the count give you to stay away last night?" his A gleam of humor twinkled black eyes, but it was speedily quenched: "I do not understand what madame wishes to say." It happened that a friend and country woman at our hotel was taken ill with typhoid fever, and amid the anxieties of her sick room the incipient love affair was almost forgotten. I no longer spent the evenings in the parlor. One day Miss St. Clair showed me a tiny satin bag beautifully embroidered, with a soft silken chain to pass around the neck. "What can it be for?" she asked. "Why, Helen, it is an amulet. Where did you get it?' "The count gave it to me. He had the loveliest set of Byzantine mosiacs and peari3 which he wished to give me; and when I would not accept them beseemed so hurt that I did not like to refuse this trifle. What do you suppose is in it?" "A relic of some'saint, without doubt. He thinks it will protect you from fever, perhaps." Like most Americans, we were desi rous of seeing the pope, and Count Al vala obtained for us the necessary per mission. We were to be received on a Saturday at 11. We went in the pre scribed costume, black silk, with the i picturesque Roman veil thrown over the i head. From the foot of the scala regia i (royal staircase) one of the papal guard. in a motley suit which seemed one glare of black and ye'kw, escorted us to the door of a long corridor, known as the Loercria of Rauhael. where we were re ceived by a higher official in rich array ftf printwn rplrpf A hnnt tmrrant-rr nnr. sons were seated in row3, facing each other, along this gallery, nearly all laden with rosaries to be blessed by the noly Father. We waited till my neck ached with looking up at the exquisite frescoes, fresh and tender in coloring as if new from the hand of the master, when the pope appeared, attended by a cardinal on P.-inli hnnd. Wp foil on nur 1,-nPM instantly, but not till I had heen an old man's face so sweet and venerable as to make this act of etiquette a spontaneous homage. He passed slowly down the line, saying a word or two to ach, and extending his hand, white and soft like a woman's, to be kised. Pausing by the young count, who was kneeling beside me, he said impressively. "Courage and faith have always been attributes of the house of Alvala. Your I fathers were good children of the church, ' and you, my son, will not be wanting in i any of the qualities of your race." When he had passed us we rose from our knees, and I could observe him more closely He wore a close fitting white j cap on ms nneiy snaped neau: a long robe of white woolen cloth buttoned up I in front, with a sraaH cape of the same ' material, a white sash, gold embroidered at the end; a long gold chain around his , golden cross: a seal ring on the third j finger of his right hand; and red slip pers. Soft snowy locks fell from under ' the white skull cap over a noble fore head, which years an;' trials had left un 1 wrinkled. Black eyebrows and the soft dark eyes made a pleasant contrast to the I whiteness of hair and brow; and his . smile was so sweet and winning that I j scarcely wondered to see two Catholic j ladies prostrate themselves and kiss his feet and the hem of his white garment i with a rapture of devotion from which his attendants with difficulty rescued him. He lingered longest by a pretty boy 4 or 5 years old. and there was a ' pathos in the caressing clinging touch of his hand as it rested on the child's head j that called to mind an old love story of the handsome Count Mastai Ferretti wnen he wore the uniform of an officer of the guards, and had not yet thought of priestly robe or papal crown. I won der if he remembered the fair English I girl now? Having completed the round, he made a brief address, the purport of which was that he was about to give us his blessing, f and he wished that it might be diffused j to all our families and friends, and be j not for the present moment only, but ex tend through our whole lives and abide l with us in the hour of death; "but re- I member," said he with a kind of pater- nal benignity, "that the gates of para dise open rarely to any who are without J the communion of the holy Catholic church. Sometimes perhaps sometimes j have been waiting for her all the even but with great difficulty." He extend- in." I ed his hands. We drooped on our knees 'd . man,' whom tho .p, j Christendom revere as the earthly head of the church. As we were making our way through the stately columns of the colonnade which forms the approach to the Vatican I saw the count glance at the amulet which Helen wore. "What is in it?" I asked. "A relic of the blessed St, Francis, my patron," he replied. "It will lose its efncacv on the neck of a Ii"le heretic like Miss St, Clair," said I with a purpose. "It will do her no harm," said he coldly. Monday I was at the table d'hote, the first time for a week. I found the count seated next to Miss St. Clair. It was i very simple, she explained to me after ! ward. A lady occupied his seat one d3v, and he came round to the onlv vacant one, which liaoDened to be next I hers. I am a very ruHeless rerson, but I think v incenzo had an excellent reason for letting it haonon. Hlen was on niv I left hand astfjjid, and the Italian mar- i quis on my right. "I am sorry for that bay," said he to me; "he is very unhappy." "The young count? What is the mat ter?" "Don't von see? He is .madly in love with your bewitching little American. It is his first impression, and he takes it hard. Well, he will have to learn like the rest of us." '-1 X3&2 itfML, (r &g f -s: s: "Don't you seef He is i.xadhj in lore." "I hope you are mistaken;" and I glanced uneasily at my young neighbors, t who were too much absorbed in their own conversation to heed that between the marquis and myselt. , - "That is impossible. He raves to mo about her. It is very pretty, too a per fect idyl, all poetry and romance; eternal, unchangeable and all that boyish non sense. We older men know better. But monsignore will be here soon, and he will look after him." "Who is monsignore?" "The archbishop of Toledo, his guar diau. He has been here, but some dio cesan matter called him home. He will be back anon, and then the count will dine at home. As to thatr he does now, and delicious dinners they are, too. He only makes a pretense of eating here, just to have a chance to 6ee his little j djTinjtv " "He was here when we came." "True, but only for a day or two while his house was put in order. The house is well worth seeing one of the fineston the Corso. It is not open to strangers, but if you would like to see it" "Certainly not," I interrupted, a little Irritably, the more so from the conscious ness of having been a somewhat careles3 chaperon. I was coming sharply up to the line of duty now. at all events. "Helen," said I when we rose from the ) dinner table, "do not go into the parlor I now. Lome into mv room a little wnue, J please. Well, Helen." I resumed when we were seated by the pleasant window. I have seen so little of you for a week j P881 5"ou muit 8a Si"eat deal to i vcii ixiu. "I do not know," she replied. "I have been out every day with the Glenns, just as you arranged for me, and I have been in the parlor in the evenings, and some- i times l sano. and ne nJeht there was a i t rencn gentleman I "How about the young count? The , Italian says he is very much in love with i you. Df you know it?" "He has told me so often enough, if that is knowing it," with a quick, impa tient toss of the small, graceful head. "Oh, Helen!" I cried in real distress, "and what did you say to him?" "Why, what could I say in that great parlor, with everybody looking on? I just hushed him up as well as I could. There is the tall English girl and that marp eyed Miss Donaldson, who are watching us the whole time. It is real mean in them," excitedly. "And the ;ount doesn't mind letting everybody know how much he admires me. In fact, he is proud of it, like one of the old knights, who used to wear their ladies' i favors as openly and proudly as they hore their knightly banners." This will never do, Helen. Don't ' vou see that this boy is not like the gay i Frenchman that you danced with last ' winter? Rene Vergniaud was a man of i he world: he could take care of himself, i But this beautiful boy, with his intensity of feeling, his ideal passionate love You must not play with him," 1 ex :laimed vehemently. "I am not playing with him: I never lo anything to make him like me. He comes and talks to me, and I just make myself as agreeable to him as I can, that j is all." That is all. is it, vou little mischief? ' thought I. As if that were not the very refinement of coquetry! But I prudent ly refrained from saying it. for a tempest of hot tears began to fall, and she sob bed. "Oh. Mnie. Fleming, I did not think I was going to forfeit your good opinion. What can I do? I can't help his liking me. I like him too, and that makes me feel so badly." "Do you like him better than Mr. Den ham?' "Better than Fred?' in a tone of sur prise. "Why no. of course not: I have known Fred always." "The best thing will be to tell him of Mr. Denham." "Oh. no, I never can." "I will, then." "Don't, I beseech you. We shall go away soon, and that will be the end of it. Promise me you will not, I would rather tell liim myself if I ever have a chance." I looked in to see my invalid friend, and then descended to the parlor, where I foimd the young count almost alone. He looked up eagerly as I entered: "I thought Miss St. Clair was with vou. I "Indeed!" "I told her at table that I wished to see her particularly this evening." "Perhaps she did not understand yon." "Oh, yes, she did. You would not let her come?' with a sudden lighting up of the expressive face. "I did not forbid her coming; I did not know that vou were waiting for her." Then with a sudden boyish candor and a happy smile on his animated counte nance: "I thought you might have ob served that I come here so often because I like to talk with Mis3 St. Clair. But vou never can know how dearlv I love her." "I am sorry." "Why?" with s naive surprise. "She is older than you." "How old is she? "She will be 20 in May." "And I am 19 this very week. What is one poor little vearr not a year," glee fully. "But the difference in religion? An obstacle, I grantr but not an in- sutMsrable one. Mv uncle married an EnsUslj lady, a Protestant, and they have :sr ! zr-' - been very happy together."" "But I think there is another man," I stammered, surprised at finding my out posts carried so easily. "You do not mean to say that she is compromised with any man?' almost fiercely. "I do not know what meaning you at tach to that word," for the count's im perfect French was not always intelli gible. "There is a young man. the son of a neighbor, who has admired her a long time." "Oh, he admires her? with a curl of the exquisite lips, as if to say, "Who does not?' "But I think she may like him a little." "Why do you torture me so? Tell me at once that they are betrothed," cried he, pale with concentrated anger. He thought she had trifled with him, I knew instantly, but quietly said: "I can not tell you exactly in what relation they stand to each other, but I think Miss St, Clair would if she found an opportunity to speak with you." "You do not know how I have tried to make opportunities. I go everywhere, hoping to see you, and I have never met you not once. Won't you ask her to come down to-night?' coaxinglv, like a child. "Not to-night: it is too late." "I must see Miss St, Clair to-night." "Impossible." "I must seo Miss St. Clair. Find out for me when I can see her. I will go with you," in a white heat of passion. (We had been alone for some little time.) I took the arm which he held out, not a little agitated by the excess of emotion which thrilled and quivered through his youthful frame, as he hurried me up the broad stone staircase and along the wide corridors that led to our rooms. What business had I to meddle? How should an old fogy like me know anything of the love affairs of this generation? The girl would have managed more wisely than I, I reflected, by no means jubilant over the result. "Wait here;" and I walked on to Miss St. Clair's door, opened it. and there sat Helen in her pretty white wrapper, bathed in the moonlight, serene as a star, as if there were no passionate young heart breaking in waves of anguish at her ieet. "Helen, the count is in the corridor, and he will not go till I have told him when you will see him." "How can I? You must think for me." A hasty consultation. The count was standing where I had left him. "We shall be at tb.e Sistine chapel to-morrow at 2 o'clock." He bowed and was gone. I did not sleep well that night. A pretty person I am to take charge of a young girl! I wonder what Mr. St. Clair would think if he knew I had made an appointment for his daughter to meet a young Spaniard? On the way, however, I adnionished Helen, as if no misgiving of my own wisdom had ever crossed my mind: "You must be firm with him. Tell him so decidedly that he cannot doubt you really mean it." "Yes said she, "but I do dread it so. I can't bear his thinking that I encour aged him." "Then you did?' "I didn't mean to, but I do like him; and I didn't think of his taking it so to heart. Men are so strange! You think you have a charming friend, and then they will go on just so, boys and all, and you have to take them or lose them; and you can't take them. It is too bad!" We were at the door. The keeper opened it, and there stood the count waiting for us. It was not the first time we had been in the wonderful chapel. Fortunately, there were very few persons there on this afternoon none that wo knew. I sat down to look at the grand frescoes: Helen and the count walked on to the farthest corner. I looked at the Cunnean Sibyl, the impersonation of age and wisdom, and wished, as I glanced at the youthful figures talking so earnestlv in the distance, but not a murmur of whose voices reached my ear, that she would impart to me her far reaching vision of futuntv. 1 gazed on the image of the Eternal Father swecnine in ma- jestic flight through the air, bearing the angels on his floating garment as he di vides the light from the darkness. I saw Adam, glad with new life, rising from the earth, because the outstretched finger of his Creator gave him a conscious i strength. I looked at "The Last Judjr- merit," grown dim with years, till every figure started out in intensity of life, and it seemed as if the faces would haunt me forever. And yonder still progressed the old, ever new drama of love and anguish, with its two actors, who seemed scarcely to have changed their position or taken their eyes from each other. At length they walked slowly toward me with more serenity of aspect than I had dared to hope. "Shall we go into the picture gallery?" asked the count. "I think we may have time to walk through it," I answered. "It is half past 3?' "Is it possible that we have kept you waiting so long?" they asked simultane ously. "An hour and a hslf is a short time in a place like the Sistine chapel," I re marked sententiousty As scon as we were alone I drew Heten to the confessional: "Did you tell him about Mr. Denham?' "Yes, everything, and he was so noble. I am so sorry. Trio tear stood in his eyes, and he said: I saUer, but I am a man. I can bear it Then he thanked me for dealing so openly with him. He never once hinted a reproach. And I deserved it," she said with unwonted humility. "I never felt before how wicked it is to fbrt just a little. He is no: seiSsh, fike some people that I know;" and ray thought followed hers. 'I don't know but I am a little goos-j to j let liim go so. If lie were only 28 years old. and I were free" The next day we saw nothing of the rount, but early Thursday morning Ytn--enzo knocked at my door with a note, i which Count Alvala informed me that e was my . and begged earnestly to ee the beeutifui Mia St, Clair once 'nore; he would n-ver trouble me again st was the onl day on which we could -ee the Palace ji the Cssars, and wouki f I be so good a. permit him to meet U3 f'ere? I hastily penciled a few -word?: I am waiting for Dr. Valery. I shall DrobaWvstav with mv sick friend todav. 2fld 3iss St. Clair will not go ont with- ' oet me," aod scot the line by Vincerrw happv to be rid of the importunate boy for titis time. I Two hours later, wh?n the doctor had pronounced ray friead better, ami I had dstance in any way that I koov." promised Helen a walk amid the rains ! In Wfttte of the bay aarnestnesA, the of the Pahuioe. which I Mil no: like to j icsa cf hi oCierlag psursaage to the ja leave Rome without sesia, I went dowa cure sad isdependeBt Aissarlsaa etraik to the roll, coffee and eggs, which consti tute an Italian breakfast, and there sat the count as vigilant as a sentinel. "Ybu will go?" said he with a smile. "I think we may," curtly. "I shall perhaps meet you there." When we reached the Farnese gate he was waiting there, which made the "per haps" superfluous. We had a long ram ble over the lonely lull, stretching out like a green New England pasture, but where from time to time we came unex pectedly upon flights of steps which led to massive substructures of stone, foun dations of ancient palaces, and to exca vated halls paved with mosaics and lined, with frescoes more beautiful than those of PoniDcii. There were manv statues. more or less mutilated, and stately brick arches laden with a wealth of flowering shrubs, and here and there thickets ' of tall, dark cypress trees, Iiarmonious with ruins. My young companions were rather Eilent, but I fancy their thoughts were not engrossed with old historic lore. I made a conscientious effort to force mine into the ruts of association which I had supposed to be inevitable in such a spot, but the bright sunshine, the delicate blue of the distant Campagna. the Jiving glad ness of earth and air were too strong for me, and I inwardlv aonlauded a livelv American girl who interrupted her dron - ing guide with the incisive "I don't caro a snap for Cajsar. On reaching the gate after our three hours' ramble I consigned Miss St. Clair to some friends who were waiting for her 3nd stepped into the count's carriage. He seemed to feel bound in honor not to speak of love to Miss St. Clair since the revelation of the Sistins chapel, but ho must have a little solace in talking to me about it, "It would be easy," said he, "if she were not fiancee, but that makes it difficult very difficult indeed. I am glad it is not going to be for three years; that is a long time, a very long time." Then, with a nuddn illumination of face and a delicious intonation of tlio musical voice, "Perhaps they will never marry; perhaps it will bo another man I." (Blessed infatuation of youth, with its wonderful perhapses, which never come to maturer years!) "One of these years I shall hope to hear that you are married to a beautiful lady of 'your own country and your own religion." "You never will." "Oh yes, you will be astonished to find how easy it is to forget." "I come of a constant race," said he proudly. "My father loved my mother, and they sent hun all over the world to forget her, but he came home in five years and married her." "Even if it were otherwise possible (which it is not), the difference in re ligion ought to prevent it. How could so good a Catholic as you distress your family by marrying a heretic?' "Perhaps she would be a Catholic. (I noticed that he did not say, "Perhaps I shall becoino a Protestant,") "Don't you think her father would let her marry a Catholic?' "No," I replied stoically. He was silent and dejected. "You must forget her," said I kindly. "It is only a little while since you first saw her." "A little while! It is my whole lifer "Only a few weeks," I continued. "We shall soon be across the ocean, and you will see other ladies." "There is only one Mis3 St. Clair." "I beg your pardon there are three of them." Put the boy was too miser able to notice this poor little sally. We were npproaching the hotel. shall not seo vou again at present," said he. "Monsignore will arrive this even- in, and I must be at home to recpive him. But I shall be in Paris by tho mid-1 die of May, and I shall see you there; , farewell till then." j Tho next morning Miss St. Clair and I were on our war to Florence. A week I later, on our return from the convent I Inai7. wmaKo mo icei now lar icome of San Marco, where we had seen the' short of hi ideaL td says that ho cell of Savonarola and many lovely but I worshlP tho very ground I tread on faded frescoes of Fra Angehco and Fra 6uS"tly hyperbolical and very original, Bartolommeo,whom should we find wait-! ou receive," with a batmcal curve of ing for us in our temporary home on the I her PTCtt? "PS "bat ho never team Via Pandolfini but Count Alvala? I felt j half satisfied with inc. no ought to annoyed and mv face must have re-1 knovv T thl timf that J mmi U J vealed it. for he said deprecatinglv. I "'? ow" littl0 6cif- and I10t a MCOnd You ought to bo glad to see your boy, Mme. Fleming, for I have come this long journey only for a day, expressly to see you." "Well," said I, "you took mo so by surprise that I had not my welcome ready. I did not expect'tho pleasure of seeing you till after our arrival in Pans." "That is why I am here. I shall not be able to go to Pans. I am bitterly dis appointed, but monsignore has made other plans for me. I am to go to Vienna to visit my aunt, whose husband is our ambassador there. The tour to Paria ia postponed till the autumn." Evidently monsignore had heard of the little heretic maiden, and ho was going to remove his ward from tempta tion. I was infinitely obliged to him. A desultory conversation followed, car ried on principally by the young people, and then the count said, "Miss St, Claix tells me that you have visited the Uffizl and Pitti galleries. May I not go with you somewhere to morrow? to La Cer tose or San Mimato, for instance?" "Thank you," 1 replied; "wo are eo exhausted with bighc scainc. Miss St. Clair and I. that we- ehall stay in all day to-morrow, and we shall be happy to te you once in the afternoon or evening, as may be most convenient to you." I did not like to be hard and crosa to the dear boy whom my heart yearned over, but I felt as much bound to "make an effort" xis if I had been a veritable Dombey. The call lasted afternoon and evening it was only the change of a particle. I could not reproduce the innocent talk, half gay, half sad, of this long interriew. t before he went away the count drew j measidej "Will you give this to Mi St. Clair when I arn gone?" I unfolded the packager it contained a photograph of himaelf and a email painting which he had fexcruted of th Coliseum on tho night of the illnmina tion. "Yes." ' "And will you nd me her photograph from Paris? I will bas it copied by the I best rainjature painter in Rome and pn in a locket set with diamonds," said the 1 boy enthusiastically. ( "I cannot nrorcise." "Do you liuiii 1 could be of any use "Do to her fathtr? Not lo na bis favor, you tinderstand, but I fhoold b hsppy to 3o anything to terve her or her friends. Can't you tell me now? o. Mr. St Clair doe not need as- uus. s sti about zne.n "Yes. "I shall learn tospeak English I haTe begun already and in' a year I shall he in America. Will you write your ad dress for me on this card? I did so. If you aver come to Spain, remem ber that my house and all that is in it are yours." "I shall never go to Spain." "Perhaps you will, one day s?e Miss St. Clair," looking up in my ftica with a bright smile of inextinguishable hope "Good-by for a year." A few more days in Florence, a week in Venice, a day or two in Milan, and we j bade adieu to Italy. i and mystery! when I Land of beauty recall thv many forms of loveliness, the glorious shapes of gods and heroes serene and passion less in their white majesty of marble, the blessed sweetness of saints and Ma donnas shining down into my soal, I seem to havo been once in heaven and afterwaru shut out. We were once xacrejat home. Almost the first news that came to us from abroad was of the terrible war between France and Germnv. During the pro tracted siece of Paris we were full of i anxieties, but at its close we received ' long letters from Moe. Le Fort, giving manv details of the sufferings and pri J -. v&KfcSS rrsnj?- Mll - c60l i -,i a " Will you pi w fit j to ULs Si. Clair ?u I am gone? vations of the siege, eerrowful enough for tho most part, but enlivened hero and there with touches of the gay French humor that nothing can sabdue. Thcro was a lively sketch of a Christmas din ner ingeniously got np of several courses of donkey meat. At Now Year's tho choicest gift that a gentleman could make a lady wa3 a piece of wheatcn bread. Afterwards there was nothing in tho house but rice and chocolato bon bons, which they chewed sparingly, a little at a time. But they kept up their courage they wero even gay. Hard ships were nothing, but that Paris ahould be surrendered at last that was a hu miliation which nothing could compen sate. Many of the gay dancers whom wo had known had fallen in buttlv, among them Reno Vergniaud. He was shot in the heart in nn engagement with the Prussians in tho environs of Parin. I spent my next summer vacation with Miss St. Clair in Detroit, "When is Mr. Denham coming horner" I asked one evening when wo were alone together. "I do not know; ho dcei not speak of coming home. I am a little puzzled about Fred. Ho has written me a great deal latelv about a certain Frauleiu Te resa, tho daughter of one of hw profes- j sors, who takes fcucii excellent care of ner younger orosners aim naier. anu vho & Buch a wonderfully economical, ! housewifely little body just a new edl- tion of verthers Charlotte. I do not think that ho really likes her," she con tinued, after musing a little; "ho just holds her up as a modal for me to copy. I shouldn't wonder if ahe was only imag- band mutation of somebody olw. The next day came a letter with tt German postmark, which vntm to lv quent on tho subject of Frauluin Torosa that it elicited the folio-wing reply: "Detkoit, Aug. 5. 1STL "Dear Fred I despair of emulating Fraulein Teresa's many excellencies. You know what a useless little thing I am. Happily, it is not too late to mvjkn anothf r choice. Thinking it may pleai you, I hereby release you from all your j promises to inc. e may never be any thing more to teh other, pcrhap. but I hope that wohjll nlways be d-ar I Head. I shall never forjft that we grew up to gether, and I wish you all possible iap pinosH. Your iittiw fraal. IIeixx. In due tune thb answer cam "HaiDitLBKWJ. Aug- 27, lfiTL "Mips St. Claix Vour xnaiwhat singular letter of Augut 5th w dulr received. If I blived that you had written it, or ever coskl or would do anrtning, with proper daiiboratioa, 1 should accept your dt-cbuoa at once. But as I have good reason to know your habit of acting from sadden impulses which you afterward rRrt, I grro yoo three months to reconsider this hasty step. "I have tho honor to bo jour obii: wrrvam. F. A. DgchjlJl" Helen held to 3 the open nhf-t with kindling eyes and glowing cheKt "Three month! I cioa't ned thrw min utes: I wouldn't cheage m thre centu ries. I am gla4 to b I rsT she cried, sobbing and laughtagar. i&e tamo mo ment "He haa worried e poor huh' thing hi mtV Th next raorahsg I started oa my re turn to Boston. Early m October a tcrraut hasdd m a card fcanag tt &&& Kraaclco Al vala. I had cavv-d to Uuat of th boy, cot having heard a word troci him; bat here he was, looktag vry m&aij. brown ed with the s-si ud nan. and boauilfol at Eadfmwa wjn Dioa sttpd to kkv him And ail : l'i 5 tho wbJi raoofwiuoe ? tUMavk&i wft" ta pathy. AfKr the first grsstJng h- z&al, Ew is ybu St Cfcir? and tehas did you her hs!? I told him of my wesat riglt "She vs act EstrrJBd i&msg" "Oa the ooasrary. she i five. Th engagement with Xr. Dshauat has bca broken-" "Whatdld 1 itfl ye? Did I not ta.j It woeid be IT In a bent f t.huppfe. Asta awl &crui --- 1 a ha rriaad u r- u W --r r?0 ! me as lrrestioiy mais -,3at vou will" tell b ? ..ii t.i .y j i . S . ". 'J j-2 -" & .jggj?J.?.:f-