Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 2.djvu/19

 MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

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��mined face ; after frost and the dreariness of winter come the flowers and the joys of spring."

The air had grown chilly and the even- ing far spent when we said "good-night" to Miss Ellen at the wayside gate lead- ing to her father's house, where we left her in care of " Old Black Ben," the faithful house-dog, who came bounding down the walk to meet his young mis- tress. The moon smiled again as Will dropped a kiss upon those dewy lips, and entreating her to cheerful rest unmind- ful of to-morrow's adieus, he took my arm and we moved away in silence. Wrapping my cloak more closely about me to keep out the evening's damp, and lighting a cigar from Will's well-filled case, we waudered out into the starlight and adown the road by the river's bank. Had our hearts been free from this un- timely sadness, and our spirits light as in those merry, happy days I wot of, we should have lain ourselves upon the grass, or upon some moss-upholstered rock beside the river, and, disturbed by no sound save those musical murmurs which we always loved, we would have talked the moon from out the sky, and the stars beyond the western hills ; but now almost in painful silence the time sped along until the " High Rock " was passed, where the waters fretted so madly, and the cold gray walls of the " Haunted House" became dimly visible in the shadow of the " Hill of Pines." Here the wind sighed heavily, in sympa- thy, I suppose, with our saddest spirits. At the " Rustic Bridge" over the " Hem- lock Brook," we turned to retrace our steps, and as villageward we wended our way, I learned what I was most wishing to hear from the lips of my old companion : the events of his life during the long months since that morning in a late autumn, when we, at a riverside de- pot, exchanged farewells, (and old hats, too, in memoriam, as I well remember), I, to step out into the world of busy life, he to return to the halls of learning. And most of all I wished to know of this late episode, this life of a lover, an interesting scene of which I had but now been an incidental witness. Gradu-

��ally and strangely it unfolded, and I learned how, soon after I left him at school, the remittances from his agent or guardian grew smaller and less fre- quent, until one bright morning he awoke to learn that he was penniless. The small fortune that was left him by his father having been turned into cash by the miscreant in whose care it was placed, and he having fled with his ill- gotten gain to parts unknown.

Having fully satisfied himself of the fact, and deeming the recovery of it, or even the criminal himself, surrounded by an impenetrable shadow of doubts, he turned his attention to the realities of his new circumstances, and set about buckling on the armor of manhood to engage in the real battle of life. With extreme re- luctance he severed his connection with the institution he had chosen as his Al- ma Mater, and gave up all idea of a com- plete college course. His little affairs, the necessary outgrowth of a student's life, weae soon arranged, and he left in the care of a friend his nucleus of a li- brary, and other accumulated effects, among which was a superb " Madonna " by some unknown author. This my friend greatly cherished, avering and al- ways dreaming it the prototype of one yet to be found in all maidenly loveli- ness in some of the by-ways of the " yet to be." I shall never forget that artist's conception. I think one could sit for hours gazing into those dreamy eyes, and then the countenance ! it seems im- possible that so much loveliness could be put upon canvas, so life-like was it ! such matchless lips ! so rich, soft cheeks ! and then there was a world of womanly loveliness and depth of soul beaming from out her gentle face.

You know there are few paintings rep- resenting the " Holy Mother" that are particularly striking, save as works of art. but this one of which I write, ap- pealed to the heart; and one went out from it always with lingering dreams of those dove-like eyes beaming upon him from soul-full features.

Thus much have I said of this picture without intending it, but you will par- don me when I say. that although a score

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