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good-humoredly, “but I didn't do much I ther. I wonder what made the boy want good."

to go to the seaside." “ Wanted something a good deal more “ How far is it?" thorough, no doubt.” Adrian suggested. • Well, about thirty miles if they go to

" I hope he delivered his message ?” Salthaven. There's a railway — I should Harding inquired. “It is his birthday think old Robinson will have a special. to morrow, and his father is going to take Bob will have a great deal too much to him for the day to the seaside. He was eat and drink, and he'll be ill the day to ask if your brother would go with after. And if he and Guy can think of him.”

any senseless mischief, they are sure to “Oh, Bob will be delighted, I'm sure,” be up to it, and the old man will swagger said Miss Wilton. "I should think you and pay for the damage. Boyy will be would enjoy the holiday, Mr. Harding, boys,” said Miss Wilton, with pompous you must be thankful to get rid of your intonation. charge now and then.”

Adrian laughed. “Perhaps Mr. HardScarlett, sitting on the end of the sofa, ing will go too." saw Harding's face darken with displeas- * Ob no! I know he won't."

“ It makes very little difference, “ How do you know ?” thank you,” said the tutor coldly. “I “Mr. Robinson won't take him. My think I'll go and find Guy now.” And he belief is that he's rather afraid of Mr. bowed himself out of the room in his sul. Harding. Oh! there he goes with Guy, len fashion. The girl looked after him, out by the garden way.” and then turned to Adrian and laughed. Scarlett looked over her shoulder. " Aren't

we dignified ? ” she said. “ What a handsome fellow he is !” “What did I say to make him so cross ? “ Handsome ?" Miss Wilton turned I didn't mean any harm.”

her head, and looked doubtfully at her “Oh, I don't know — I don't think you companion. said anything very dreadful. Who is “Yes. Don't you think so ?Guy?'

" Nino.

It never occurred to me. Do Guy Robinson. His father has no you mean it really, or are you laughing?” end of money, Jones and Robinson the “Of course I mean it. Didn't you ever builders, you know, who are always get look at him?" ting big contracts for things in the news. Why yes, often.” papers – you see their names forever. “ Well, then?” Old Robinson has bought the Priory, so “ I suppose his features are good, when they are neighbors of ours. Guy is twelve one comes to think about them,” said the or thirteen, ihe only boy, and ihey won't girl, with a dubious expression in her send him to school."

eyes. “Yes, I suppose they are.” “ Mr. Harding is his tutor ?”

“I wish mine were anything like as Miss Wilton nodded.

good,” said Scarlett, with dispassionate " I shouldn't much fancy him for mine,” candor. said Scarlett reflectively. “ l'in rather “ You wish yours

" Miss Wilton inclined to pity Master Guy."

began, and ended with an amazed and in“ You needn't," the girl made answer, credulous laugh, which was exceedingly glancing shrewdly. " I think Mr. Hard. Aattering. It was so evidently genuine. ing is there under false pretences.”

“I don't think you half believe me * False pretences ?”

now,” he said.

“ But I assure you, if “ Yes. I believe they think he is stern, you were to ask an artist he would tell and will keep Guy in order, and my pri. you vate conviction is that he does nothing of “ An artist? Oh, I dare say, an artist the kind. Nobody could keep Guy in might say so. But I don't believe a order without perpetual battles, and Mr. woman would say that Mr. Harding was Robinson always ends the battles by dis. good-looking.” missing the tutor. I never hear of any How if she were an artist ? " battles with Mr. Harding,"

Oh, then she wouldn't count.” You think be spoils the boy.” “But why wouldn't a woman think so?” “Spoils him? Well, I think that in his She paused to consider. “I don't supreme contempt for Guy and all the know," she said, “and yet I do mean it, Robinsons, he just takes care that be somelow. He may be handsome, but he doesn't drown himself, or blow himself up doesn't seem like it. I think a woman with guapowder, or break his neck, and I would want him to seem as well as to be.” don't believe he troubles himself any fur. “Do you mean that she wouldn't ad

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“I see.

LIVING AGE.

VOL. XLVIII.

do we.

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mire him unless he gave himself airs ? | waited for the duet, but her elder sister, That's not very complimentary to the Amy. Each sister had her recognized woman, you know."

province, in which she reigned supreme. Miss Wilton shook her head. “I don't Amy was the beauty of the family, and mean that. He might not think about had a taste for poetry; Molly was musical himself at all - I should like him all the and lively. This arrangement worked better.” She stood for a minute with her perfectly, and Molly admired her sister's eyes raised to Adrian's, yet was plainly charms, and her poetical sympathies, looking back at the image of Reynold without a trace of jealousy, feeling quite Harding which she had called up for the sure that justice would be done to her purpose of analysis. At last, “ He isn't a if there were any question of music or bit unconscious !” she exclaimed. ." He repartee. is the most self-conscious man I know. I Adrian was not looking at his proofs believe he is always thinking about him when Miss Wilton came in. He was sit. self!"

ting on the sofa, with his legs stretched “If he is,” said Scarlett, “as far as I out before him, gazing into space, and could judge I should say he didn't enjoy thinking of Sandmoor near Ilfracombe. it much.

It was absolutely necessary that he should “That's it!” she said. “He doesn't put himself into communication with that find hiinself attractive, and so no more place, but how was it to be done? Should Isn't that it?"

he write that day, or should he go the He smiled. “There's something in the next? idea as far as it goes. But it doesn't alter “Oh, I have interrupted you !” Miss his features, you know.”

Wilton ejaculated, and stopped just in“ Of course not. But we don't look at side the door. them.

“Interrupted me! Not a bit of it! I Adrian stood, pulling his moustache, was only and still smiling. He was not afraid, yet “ You were thinking of that sonnet -I he found it rather pleasant to be told that know you were !” this picturesque tutor, who had been shut “ No, really,” said Adrian, almost wish. up in Mitchelhurst Place with Barbara, ing he had been thinking of that sonnet. was not the kind of man to take a woman's “ No, I wasn't. In fact I think the son. fancy. It was pleasant, but of course it net is pretty well finished.” did not mean much. Molly Wilton might "Is it? You must read it to me, won't be perfectly right, and yet it would not you ?” and she came forward eagerly, took mean much. It is easy to lay down gen- a chair, and dropped into a graceful attieral rules about women, and very clever tude of attention. She had a real taste for rules they often are. The mistake is in poetry, and the poet was also to her liking. applying these admirable theories to any This was not the first time that she had one particular woman — she is certain to listened, with shining eyes and quickened be an exception. Scarlett, while he lis. breath, and had brought the color to the tened to his companion, did not forget young man's cheek by saying with soft that there are always women enough to earnestness, “I like that – oh, I like supply a forinidable minority.

:hat!” Adrian found it very pleasant to "I say,” Miss Wilton exclaimed, with read his poems to Miss Wilton. a real kindling of interest in her face, “I'll “ If you like,” he said. “If you are sure just go and take off my bat, and then we it won't bore you.” might try over that duet, you know.” “Of course I like," she answered.

To this he readily assented, but when " It's the first sonnet of all, you know,” she left the room he lingered by the he explained, “a sort of dedication. I window, and presently ejaculated Poor didn't like the one I had, so I shall make devil!” It is hardly necessary to say them put this in instead.” He pulled his that he was not thinking of Molly Wilton, papers out of his pocket, and took a leaf who assuredly was neither angel nor devil, of manuscript from among the printed but a bright, wholesome, rather substan- pages. “You must tell me what you think tial young woman.

of it,” he said, and cleared his throat.

At that moment Molly opened the door. CHAPTER XVII.

She saw the state of affairs at a glance,

and slipped into her place, as quietly as if TWO GLANCES.

she had come into church late, and spied 2. AFTER all it was not Molly Wilton who convenient free seat first came into the room where Adrian Adrian read

6

ears.

66

the poet.

were not —

Hare not all songs been sung, all loves been told ? | doesn't look strong, and I should think
What shall I say when nought is left unsaid ? that Robinson boy would be enough to
The world is full of memories of the dead,
Echoes and relics. Here's no virgin gold,

worry anybody into an early grave.” But all assayed, none left for me to mould

Adrian, standing by the piano, raised Into new coin, and at your feet to shed,

his eyes to the old mirror, as if he half Each piece is mint-marked with some poet's head, expected to see the pale face with its Tested and rung in tributes manifold.

watchful

eyes, below the gleaming surface

of the glass. But it reflected only a O for a single word should be mine own, vague confusion of curtain and wall-paper, And not the homage of long-studied art, and the feathery foliage of a palm. Common to all, for you who stand apart !

" I say,” said Molly, “ had jou met him O weariness of measures tried and known ! Yet in their rhythm, you if you alone

before this morning, or did you introduce Should hear the passionate pulses of my heart !

yourselves ? "

6. We introduced ourselves. I found he As he finished he lifted bis eyes and knew a place where I stayed last summer. looked at Amy. Where else should a Don't you remember," he said, looking young man look, to emphasize the mean. across at Amy, “the old house I told you ing of his love.poem, except into a wom. about!” an's sympathizing eyes ? But the look, " I remember. Where you wrote that mere matter of course as it was, startled bit, · Waiting by the Sundial??and silenced her. “You if

you

alone!” Scarlett nodded. The words, spoken with the 'soft fulness “ Yes. Well I found he knew it well of Adrian's pleasant voice, rang in her in fact it turned out that he was a connec

A young woman whose atiractions tion were recognized by all the family might What, of your friends there?" very well be pardoned for not at once per- No, not of my friends, of the old famceiving that the emphasis was purely ar. ily who used to have the place.” tistic.

“Oh, your friends aren't the old family But the silence which would have been then?" said Molly. full of meaning for the lover, frightened No, they are not. I ought to say they

- there were only two of them," “ You don't like it !” he exclaimed anx- he added in an explanatory fashion, “old iously.

Mr. Hayes, and his niece Miss Strange, Oh yes, I do I like it very much.” and Mr. Harding told me to day that the “But there is something wrong," Adrian old man was dead. I didn't know it." persisted. “I am sure you don't like it." Molly looked up sympathetically, but,

“Indeed – indeed I do," the girl de. as he did not seem to be overpowered clared fervently, and Molly chimed in with grief, she went on, after a moment, with an enthusiastic

“Isn't it funny how, when one has “Oh, Mr. Scarlett, it's charming !”. never heard a name, and then one does

li's very kind of you to say so," he hear it, one is sure to hear it again in replied, pocketing his sonnet and going three or four different ways directly? towards the piano, still with a slightly Did you ever notice that?” troubled expression. “Shall we try that Mr. Scarlett wasn't sure that he had, duet now?"

but he agreed that it was a very remarka. Molly's thoughts were very easily di- ble law. verted from poetry. She set up the mu- “Well it always is so

- you notice," sic; but just as she was about to strike she said. "Now I don't remember that the first note, an idea occurred to her, and I ever knew of anybody of the name of spinning half round on the stool – Strange in all my life, and now the Ash

Amy,” she said, “ do you call that Mr. fords have got a Miss Strange staying Harding so very good-looking?"

with them, and here your friend is a Miss Amy was taken by surprise.

Strange." “I? ob no !” she answered.

His glance quickened a little at this • There!” Molly exclaimed, looking up illustration of the rule in question. at Scarlett.

“Curious !” he said. " And who is “Why, what do you mean?” Miss Wil. this Miss Strange who is staying with the ton asked. “Somehow I can't fancy he'll Ashfords ?live. Whenever I look at that man's face “Oh, she is a clergyman's daughter I think of death."

from Devonshire. She is very pretty. “What a queer idea !” said the younger Amy, don't you think that Miss Strange is sister reflectively. "Well, he certainly pretty?"

“1

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“Very pretty,” said Amy, taking a book the room, sat gazing at the page which from the table.

she did not read. She had seen how “Yes, very pretiy, for that style,” Molly Adrian Scarlett could look, when he repeated.

heard the name of Barbara. And she “And what is her particular style?" had thought, because he turned towards Adrian asked, keeping his eyes, which her when he read a sonnet- she had were growing eager, fixed upon the key thought — what? A pink flush dyed her board.

delicate skin. Our pardonable mistakes “Oh, I don't know she's rather are precisely what we ourselves can never small,” said Molly lamely (Barbara was pardon. not as tall as Amy Wilton)," and she is The song being ended young Scarlett dark — too dark, I think.” (Amy was made his escape. He was half amused, decidedly fair.) “She has a quantity of half indignant. black bair. Do you like black hair?” “ Sandmoor near Ilfracombe ! Con. (Amy's was wound in shining golden found the fellow, he knew where she was coils), “ and rather a color, and fine eyes. all the time, and I thought he was rather Ob dear, how difficult it is to describe unwilling to give me her Devonshire adpeople!

dress! Sandmoor near Ilfracombe in. It might be so, and yet young Scarlett, deed!” as he listened, could actually see a pair of soft eyes shining under darkly pencilled brows, a cloud of shadowy hair, and lips of deep carnation. It would rather have

From The Contemporary Review. seemed that Miss Molly Wilton excelled

THE PURGATORIO OF DANTE. in the art of description.

A STUDY IN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, “Do you know what her name is ?” he asked in an indifferent voice, stooping a THE somewhat trite saying that few little to look at a speck on one of the English readers of Dante get beyond ihe keys, and touching it with a neat finger.“ Inferno” and that few who talk of the pail.

Inferno” know more than the Francesca “What, do you think it may be your and Ugolino episodes, is probably less true Miss Strange?

now than it was half a century ago. Cary “It's possible,” he said. “ Her people and Longfellow, not to speak of other were somewhere in that part of the translations, each with merits of its own, world.”

have helped to familiarize men with the " I did hear her name - no, don't say idea of Dante as a whole. Mr. A. J. it! Amy, do

you

remember Miss Butler's admirable prose version of the Strange's name?

“Purgatorio” has done something to call Amy looked up absently.

special attention to the section of the great “Something old-fashioned wasn't it " Commedia” of which I now propose to Barbara ?”

treat. I will state briefly why I have been Adrian had lifted his head, and their led to make this selection. It has seemed

In that moment the girl saw to me, as I have read the “Purgatorio, what a glance could mean. It was just a that in it, far more than in the “ Inferno" flash of light, and then his ordinary look. or the “ Paradiso,” the man Dante Ali

"Yes," he said, "that's the name; it ghieri reveals himself to us in all the dis. must be the Miss Strange I know.” tinctness of his personality, that the poem

" Dear me!” said Molly, “I hope I is essentially autobiographical. It is somedidn't say any harm of her just now! thing more than a polemic against the You'd better go and call. You remember crimes of the Roman curin or the citizens the Ashfords; you went with us to a gar- of Florence; something more than the den party at their place when you were summing-up of the creed of mediæval staying here two years ago.”

Christendom, or the veiled symbolism of Adrian smiled, and moved towards the a new and mystic heresy destructive of window, forgetting his engagement at the that creed. In the “Inferno” he passes piano.

on stern and ruthless, condemning sins “ Ob!” said the disappointed musician, which were not his, hardly touched, ex" aren't we to have the duet then?" cept in the Francesca story, with the

" I beg your pardon,” he answered, com- thought of the pity of it all. In the “ Para. ing back with bright promptitude, “ I'm diso” he paints a blessedness to which he quite ready."

has not attained, on which he gazes as But Amy, as their voices rose and filled from a far-off distance, which he can but

eyes met.

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dimly apprehend. But in the “ Purgato. Soon as I passed forth from the deathlike air rio” he is with those who are not only of Which eyes and heart had filled with sore like passions with himself but are passing

despite. through a like stage of moral and spiritual The planet love-inbreathing, sweet and fair, experience. The seer paints the process

Made all the East to smile with her sweet

grace. of the purification of his own soul from

[Purg. i. 13–20.] the seven deadly sins that had eaten into his life. We might almost speak of this Or once again, in that marvellous picsection of his poem as “the confessions ture of which it is hard to say whether it of Dante Alighieri.”

excels most in beauty or in truth: We have scarcely entered on the thresh. old of the poem before this essentially Just then the dawn its victory did gain

D'er morning's mist that vanished, so that I self-scrutinizing analysis meets At

Saw the light trembling on the open main. first, indeed, his soul, as if in the joy of its

[Purg. i. 115-117.] darkness of pit, in its recovered freedom, in its old joy, in But not the less, in the midst of this itself a purifying joy, in light and the fresh natural joy is there the thought present to breeze of dawn. If we would understand the poet's mind that he is entering on a the opening of the “ Purgatorio we must solemn work, that it is he himself, his own go back to the Stygian waters of the soul, that needs the cleansing which he is nether world, wherein were plunged by a about to describe. Bearing that thought righteous Nemesis the souls of those who in mind, we shall be able to follow his had in the bitterness of their discontent progress through the seven circles of the lost the capacity for entering into that Mount of Purification with a clearer in. joy:

sight, to note what were the sins that Beneath the pool are those that sigh and groan, what were the healing remedies which he

weighed most heavily on his conscience, And make the water bubble, as to thee, Where'er thou look’st, is at the surface shown. had found most effective against them. I Fixed' in the mire they say, “ Full sad were we

start with the words in which Virgil, as Where the sun gladdens all the pleasant clime, the poet's guide, sets forth to Cato, who, bearing within dull mists of inelancholy; as the representative of the natural vir. Now are we sadder in this black foul sime." tues of which the four stars that cast their

[Inf. vii. 115-121.] light upon his face are symbols, is the Of that sullen discontent Dante had not errand on which they have come :

guardian of the entrance to Purgatory, the been guilty even under the heavy burdens of exile and poverty, and therefore he had His life's last eve he hath not seen indeed, not lost the capacity for hope which was But through his madness came to it so near denied to those who dwelt in the “dolo. ' He had but few short moments to recede. rous city.” And so when he has left the So, as I said, this mission I did bear region where “silent is the sun

and can

To rescue him, nor was there other way once more “look upon the stars," his Than this by which I came, and now am here.

'Twas mine the race accursed in display, spirit exults in its liberation :

And now I purpose he those souls should know For fairer waters now before the wind

Who here are cleansed beneath thy sov'reign My spirit's little boat her sails doth spread,

sway; And leaveth all that cruel sea behind;

How I have led, 'twere long to thee to show, And I will sing that second realm instead,

But power to help me doth from Heaven de.

scend Wherein man's spirit frees itself from stain, And groweth worthy Heaven's high courts to That he may see thee, hear thee, as we go; tread.

Him on his course I pray thee now befriend; [Purg. i. 1-6.]

He wanders seeking freedom, gift men bless,

As he knows well who life for it doth spend. Nowhere in the whole poem, one might

[Purg. i. 58–72.] almost say in all poetry, is the brightness

As we advance we note a more distinct of that dawn, at once of the earthly and the heavenly morning, more beautifully confession. He is conscious of the overpainted :

sensitiveness which makes him keenly

alive to men's looks of wonder or their The Orient sapphire's hue of sweetest tone, words of scorn, as the souls gazed at him, Which gathered in the aspect calm and bright marvelling that his form, unlike theirs, Of that pure air, through all the Heaven's first cast a shadow:Now to mine eyes brought back the old de. Mine eyes I turned on hearing him speak so, light,

And saw them watching with astonishinent

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