house, and supped by the starlight; after which I danced for my father, while Niccolo played the pipes. The chance passing of travellers was an excitement to us. A wood-carver from the Tyrol sprained his foot near our place, and taught Niccolo to carve whilst we nursed him. This was something to be grateful for, as travellers would buy the work; and, besides, it gave our boy something to do. He was a cripple from his birth; one foot did not come to the ground, somehow, and his back was a good deal bent. He had a little square face, with bright eyes, and brown hair, and was said to be quite a Swiss, as our mother had been. The first figure he carved was my patron saint, Christopher, wading through the torrent with the Child-God on his shoulders; and it was given me after he had bitten one of my fingers because I had stayed out alone in the moonlight, forgetting to fetch him. He never was so vexed, however, that could not offer him comfort, asking him to plait my long hair, which came to my ankles. I would sit down on the ground with my back against his knees, when he would dress the hair beautifully. If I were restless he would hurt me; if I were patient he would kiss me; and if his work pleased him fully, he was blithe the rest of the day. Once I went with my father to a feast at a lower village, the festa of St. Florian. This was the first occasion on which I wore my mother's costume. On the night before the feast I was holding out my foot to note how my shabby skirt had crept up my leg. My father came and measured me with his alpenstock. "You are now as tall as your mother," he said; "you may henceforth wear her clothes." He shed tears in the morning when he saw me in her dress, but was so well pleased afterwards, that I ran to the nearest tarn to see what I could be like. The tarn was nearly filled with rosy clouds, besides a gigantic pine-tree, which tapered up and broke them. I seized the sombre draperies of the pine-tree, and, gazing into the water, saw a maiden like the women whose fathers are wealthy vine-dressers. Her petticoat was of orange cloth, her long, narrow apron of a rich shade of blue, her black velvet bodice was laced with gold over white, and a deep red sash was folded well about her waist. The only part of the picture that I knew was a pale, dark countenance, with bright red lips, and the wide black eyes that seemed to take up half the face. I marked Niccolo's plaits and the silver arrows he had fastened in them, and the bunch of scarlet ash-berries which he had fixed behind my ear. I saw that this was myself, and ran merrily back to the châlet to hug my little Niccolo, and tell him not to pinch our neighbor Teresa, who was kindly coming to keep house for him whilst my father and I were away. Placido with his mule came to meet us, a young man of the village who had sometimes business on our Alp. He brought us to see his house, in which he had just put pretty furniture, and asked us to praise the fresco of St. Florian upon the gable, which he had lately got retouched for the festa. He had also made a new staircase up to his balcony; and the people joked Placido, saying he meant to take a wife. It was a very pleasant festa. People treated me as a woman, now that I was grown enough to wear my mother's clothes. I was often asked to dance, and listened to with attention when I sang and played the zither. The next day Placido brought us a long way upon our road towards home; we could not get him to leave us till the worst of the journey was past. Thanks to his stout mule, we got over all our difficulties, and were going along merrily, when we heard a voice above us shouting through the pines. Right above our heads there was a desert of lonely crags, a wild and dreaded place, where death lies in wait for men. My father left me sitting upon a pine-stump, and went shouting up the crags, seeking the stranger who had called. He returned with him by and by, and we hurried along on our journey, for though the air was flushed with color, yet the darkness was close at hand. We hastened along in silence, dragging each other up steeps, and going hand in hand, step by step, slowly across narrow shifty places. The traveller had a fair foreign look, which is to us most perfect beauty. His locks shone in the twilight, after my father's dusky head had got lost in the gloom of the pines. Arrived at our Alp at ast, we found Teresa preparing supper, and Niccolo sitting in the doorway, piping shrilly up to the moon. The stranger gave me his hand up the last ascent, then raised it to his lips. "My pretty little girl," he said, "you have certainly saved my life." When Niccolo saw us coming he limped to meet us. "Who is this that has come with you, Netta, who smiles and kisses your hand?" "Hush! Niccolo; he is English, but he understands our talk." The stranger threw down his hat and knapsack before our door. The firelight shone over the threshold, and our neighbor Teresa appeared carrying out the supper-table, which she placed upon the grass. The next morning, when I wakened, I peeped down between the rafters of my bedroom in the loft, and saw the stranger talking to my father in the doorway. I crept down the ladder, and found nobody in the place. Niccolo had lit the fire for me, and gone away to his work, and I heard my father's voice shouting in the distance. The signor was then gone. I heaved a sigh between regret and relief, and seized hold of a pitcher and prepared to go to the tarn. I made a step across the threshold and started back; the signor was leaning smoking against our châlet. I sprang back so quickly that I broke the pitcher, and had to press my hand on my eyes to keep the tears from falling. Child," said the signor, smiling in at me, "why do you take such pains to hide your face? One does not see so pretty a thing every day.” "I am not pretty this morning," I said. "It was only my mother's clothes. And I was hiding my face in trouble because I have broken my jug." « And "And you were going to fetch water?" he said. yonder pail is too heavy for you? And it was all owing to me that you broke the pitcher?" He lifted the pail on his shoulders. "Come, let us fetch the water," he said; "I shall want you to show the way." We fetched the water together, and the stranger taught me to call him the Signor John. He had an air grand and gentle, and a pleasant light in his eyes. He laughed gaily when amused, and that encouraged me. At breakfast we saw no Niccolo, and I invited the Signor John to look at his carvings at St. Barbara with her tower, St. Dorothy and her roses, St. Vincent among his orphans, St. Elizabeth, whose royal mantle was filled with bread. Niccolo had carved them all, and they stood in a row in his workshop. They were far the finest things we had got in our châlet; yet when I brought the signor to look at them Niccolo shut the door in his face. "Never mind!" said the Signor John, "we can amuse ourselves; I wish to make a sketch of you, if you don't object to sit." "You must "I ought to be at my work," I said; but ran to tell my father, who was chopping wood in the pine-brake. "It is an honor not to be refused," he said. ask the good Teresa to stay and prepare our dinner." The signor spread out his pictures for me to see; saying he was an artist only by love, and not by profession. thought that love must have the best of it, so beautiful was his work; much finer than Placido's fresco, which was considered something grand. There were pictures of lovely ladies who were of his own country; and their beauty seemed to laugh at me, and my heart began to sink. "Signor," I said, almost tearfully, "shall I not return to the châlet and put on my mother's clothes? "Your mother's clothes!" he cried, amazed. "Those I had on yesterday. The colors are gay and bright. Else I shall make such an ugly picture, you will throw it away." "You make far the prettiest picture I have ever seen," he said," and I shall hang it up where I can look at it every day." I blushed with surprised delight. "Thank you, Signor John," I muttered, and crossed my hands as he had arranged them, and gazed over into the pine-forest in a way which he had already approved. 1872.1 SIGNOR JOHN. The signor remained at our châlet for a whole week. Every morning we started on some new excursion; he and I together, for my father had not time to attend to him, and Niccolo could not walk. One evening we were all at supper when Placido appeared with his mule coming up our Alp. My father welcomed him kindly, and bade him sit down and eat. He looked strangely at the Signor John and then at me, but our new friend spoke to him pleasantly, and they were soon conversing together. Placido was a large man with a calm face. He had dark, thoughtful eyes, and brows well bent above them, and a heap of coal-black locks that left his He had a slow, gentle smile, but temples broad and bare. "As steady as Placido Lowas quick and firm in speech. rez," was a byword down in his village. After supper was over Placido seized on the supper-table and carried it back to the châlet; I following on his steps As I washed the platters and rewith a dish and ewer. stored them to their shelves, Placido put logs on the fire and blew them into flames. I finished my task and put off my apron, chattering gaily to him all the time. I could see his figure looming out against the firelight, and at the same time my father and the Signor John, standing talking out in the moonlight. Placido had given me very absent answers; but at last made a sudden move, and with two long strides stood right before me. "Netta," he said, "I came to ask if you would marry me." I was utterly amazed and a good deal frightened; he looked so very determined, as if I must come off that moment, whether I would or not. My knees knocked together, and I clung to the table. "You don't really mean it, Placido; you cannot want a wife!" "Not any wife," he said; "I only ask for you." "O Placido, don't!" I said. "Look you, my little dearest one!" he urged, "you may think me a rough lover. But never was a wife more loved and prized than you will be, if you come to me!" "Thank you, Placido," I said; "you mean to be very kind to me, but I do not think about marrying; and please be so very good as not to ask me again." My father and the Signor John here put in their heads at the door. "What is this that is going on?" said my father. "Netta, are you scolding our neighbor?" "Oh, no, no!" cried Placido, "it is only that my suit displeases her. I asked her just now to marry me; and she does not wish to consent." "You don't "What!" cried my father, turning to me. mean to say that you would refuse so kind an offer? Do not think about me, my daughter. I would rather see you for my comfort." provided for than keep you "I do not like to marry," I said, weeping. "I do not love Placido, and it would be dreadful to have to marry him." Placido's face flushed and then turned pale again. "I did not come here to make you weep," he said, sadly. "The pain of my disappointment is not worth one of your tears." He turned to go away; but my father seized him by the "Wait, my dear friend!" he said, "and do not be offended at a girl who is still a child." arm. Then turning to the signor, who had looked on gravely at this scene: "Signor! come to my assistance," he cried. heed your counsel." "Netta will The signor looked at me tenderly, with an uneasy look in his face. "As you say, she is only a child," he said. "I beg you will give her a little longer time to play." "So be it, then," said my father. I drew a long breath of relief, and looked gratefully at After this we had some more pleasant days, till at last us. there arrived a sad one when the signor prepared to leave "What! have you not a word for me?" 66 "I do not want to weep," I cried, and my tears came down in a storm. "I will certainly come back next year," said the signor, I wrung my hand away from him, and fled to my loft. "Buy yourself a ribbon, pretty one," he said, "when you In another moment he was gone, and I had a piece of I cried, in a voice that must have been shrill enough to I crushed the money into his hand, but it fell to the ground between us; and he hurried off, laughing, and looking over his shoulder. I dug the earth with my nails, and buried the gold where it lay; then fled away into the pine-brake, to weep long and fiercely. That evening Placido came back and repeated his question. I gave him a sullen "No;" and he went away more sadly than he had done before. And then I began to get happy again, for Niccolo did not pinch me, and talked to me all about his carvings, just as before the signor came. But my father came back from his journey with a troubled face. "Placido has left his village," he said, "and gone to push his way in the world!" II. This was Three years passed, and I was a staid maiden, who did not care much for festas nor gay clothes. I was not of so merry a temper as I had promised to be, and people thought I was haughty, and some of the girls disliked me." partly owing to Niccolo, who would say, "You need not speak to Netta, she is grown so proud; she thinks herself quite a princess since the Englishman kissed her hand!" A little thing gets one a character when gossips are by to talk. Then I did not choose to marry, and that was the worst; for though suitors might not grieve like Placido Lorez, yet no one likes to be refused, and their friends resented my coldness. So I was a lonely kind of creature, and lived in my own way, clinging fast to my father, and "When I am dead and only vexed when he would say, gone, Netta, who will take care of you and our peevish Niccolo?" So things went on till the avalanche came down upon us, killing my poor father, and burying him in the ruins of our house. The goats and kids were killed, and Niccolo was sorely hurt; and only I, as if by miracle, escaped. We sat for many hours on the fallen rocks, till the people from the village reached us, when they brought us down to their houses, and treated us like their own. I tried to give little trouble, for I had nothing to give them in return; nothing at all had we saved but the clothes we wore; Niccolo's arm was hurt so that he could not carve; and a woman's work is not much when she has not got a home to The housewives in the village had got daughters work in. of their own, and nobody seemed in need of a girl to help them. The worst was that nobody would love Niccolo, for, besides being utterly helpless, the lad had a biting_tongue. Placido's aged mother came out to look at me; when she saw my saddened face the tears came down her cheek. 20 EVERY SATURDAY. "My girl," she said, "I have hated you, for you sent my son away; but the Lord has sent you trouble, and I must forgive you." She brought me into her house, and I told her my bitter thoughts, and that I wanted to go down to the world where wages are given to labor. "At Como," she said, "are the silk factories; and there is many a way of earning when one gets down to the level world. You used to play the zither, and sing a song." "That is long ago," I said, " and the zither is buried with my father. I fear that all my music is buried with it." "At your age the music is not hushed so quickly," she said, kindly, and pulled an old zither down from a shelf. "It used to be sweet enough," she added; "take it with my blessing. At least it may cheer your way if it puts no money in your purse. And the village shall see to your Niccolo; though it must be owned he is an imp." So I resolved to go down to the level world, to work at the silks of Como, or at any thing I could find to do. The zither was to go with me, and Niccolo was to stay at the village till such time as I should have money to come back and fetch him. I took my zither on my shoulder, and a wallet in my hand, and, committing myself to God, I set out on my lonely way. Niccolo limped along with me half a mile, and when we found he could go no further, we stopped on the lonely road for a last embrace. The poor lad had always loved me dearly, and his spirit was quite broken now, and he clung to me with cries. It was a moment of the cruelest anguish when I had to push him at last away from me, and to hurry away. I heard his sobs behind me for a long way as I went, and later fancied I could hear them still, in the rush of the falling river, and the faint wail of the pines. I had passed two pretty villages along my way, and the sun had already set when I reached the third. There was a glare behind the mountains, and a warm golden haze floated in the vale. The houses came down a hill and the streets were flights of steps. Far above the roofs, and out of the chestnut-trees, rose the burning brazen cap of the campanile, and the bell was sounding lazily, as if ringing itself to sleep. The pines I had left behind me, in fringe of olive and purple, on the dusky heights; and here there were only the heavily-laden fruit-trees, chestnuts drooping over my shoulder, cherries dropping into my mouth, walnuts lining the roadside, and fig-bushes thrust in my path. Vines ran over the walls and upon the crimsoned roofs, and clusters of ripened grapes hung in at the doors and windows. A cloud of silvery smoke had blent with the haze of the sunset, and there was a smell as of burning logs and fragrant food. The next day I passed through still more villages, and got down to the flush and bloom of the Lombard plains. The mountains here became walls of a gigantic garden; vines wrapped their terraces, and melons ripened in the meadows Plums were as lumps of gold, in the midst of the corn. and the peaches glowed in the fruit-gatherer's basket, while nectarines and apricots added perfume to the colored air. Great rows of mulberry-trees reminded me now of the silk works, and the grasshoppers sang so loud that I took them for birds. I got on board a small sailing vessel that plied upon the lake, earning my fare by a little music, and went singing down to Como, weary, travel-soiled, and with blisters on my feet. I fell asleep in the middle of my songs, and was gently shaken awake again by the captain's merry wife. She wore a white-and-scarlet head-dress, and a large cross of gold, and crushed grapes out of a basket into her baby's laughing mouth. The gayety here on the lake was a thing to make one stare,-boats with scarlet cushions, ladies in lace mantillas, boatmen with dazzling shirts and brilliant sashes. The lake glowed with the most exquisite bluish green, and out of it rose the palaces, with terraces climbing the heights. We passed towns like straggling castles, whose streets were ladders of stone creeping up from the water; and all these wonderful novelties were to me a fantastic dream. Giulia, the captain's wife, found me a lodging in the town of Como, a closet under a chimney, beside the room where she and her husband had their home. In order to reach this nest I had to climb a hundred steps, which wound in and out of the houses up to the roofs. Noises roused me by three o'clock in the morning, wheels rolling, voices shouting, tambourines ringing, besides the sound of many novel kinds of music. I brushed up my dusty clothes, and went out to look at the town. The people were holding their market in the piazza of the Duomo, and tables were there set out, with provisions piled on them lavishly. The shops under the loggie were already all alive, and deep amber curtains fluttered gaily out of the arches. Flowers teemed from the dark and crooked balconies overhead, which hung like crazy cages from the upper windows. Colors were flashing everywhere; from brilliant oleander blossoms hanging like living flames in the air, from the gay dresses of the people, the piles of monster melons, the red marbles of the Broletto, and the Duomo's deeper hues. I lifted the heavy curtain, and went into the Duomo; the mass was over, and the most of the people were gone; Somebut others kept pouring in and the place was full. body touched me on the shoulder, and I looked up with a start. Here was Placido, in the dress of a boatman! "Netta!" he whispered, excitedly. His face was flushed, and there were tears in his eyes. "O Placido Lorez!" I cried, and gave him both my hands. We sat on a bench and whispered in a shady corner of the church. Each had a story to tell, and each had a ready listener. "My father is dead, Placido," I said, "and Niccolo is hurt in the Alps. I have come down here to Como to whole story: my try and earn money at the silk. That is so life is sad enough." As "I guessed it was so," said Placido. "I knew how it must be with you when I saw you crying at the mass. for me, I have travelled far. I have stored crops and driven oxen, and helped with the vines in the south. For some months I have been a boatman here on the lake; and yesterday I had it in mind to return to the Alps. But now I believe I'll wait a bit. There's never good in haste." "There is a captain's wife who is good to me," I said, it being now my turn again; "and she says I shall earn money by singing, for the people here in the plains are as fond of music as ourselves. I sing better than I used to do, and your mother has given me her zither." "Little Netta!" he said, "I have made a good bit of money, and I don't like to think that you must work. I can't forget the day when you declared you could not love me, but maybe if you were to try you might change your mind. It's not that I am much to care for; but the love in my heart is strong. Who knows but that, after all, I could make you happy!" 66 Placido," I said, “you are a kind man; but as I refused to marry you before when I had got a home, so I will not accept you now because I am in need of one." would not bribe you with any thing but just my love," "So if it cannot be, it can't, and he answered, mournfully. You must at least let me be your I will not vex you. 66 My best friend," I said; and after that we walked hand in hand about the church, Placido showing me the pictures, and explaining what they meant, and telling me the touching stories that are painted in the jewelled windows. 66 She The captain's wife befriended me, and people liked my music, and I could earn more money with my zither than in the factories. The people would gather round me, asking each for his favorite song, and my story got whispered among them, and they were kinder than I could tell. sings for a helpless brother," they said, and fees were therefore doubled as they dropped in my lap. Great people also would send for me now from their villas; and I began to save a little money. I had to sing one evening at a palace on the lake, and it The lake was dark when I took my seat on the verandah. glittered with moonlight, and all along the terraces hung dimly-colored lamps. A crowd of gay figures had gathered "What can "Tell me how it has happened," he asked. have fetched you down out of the snows to Como?" "My father is killed by the avalanche," I said, " and I am earning money for Niccolo, who is hurt in the Alps. It is now time for me to go, signor; good-by!" "Stay, I am going with you I" he said, and followed me out on the hill, carrying my zither. "Sit down here and rest," he said, when we had gone a little way. "But I have still to get to Como," I said, "and I want to rest in my bed." "That is true," said the signor, smiling. "Let us then take a boat at once!" I looked up the water, and assured myself that Placido was nowhere waiting for me. I stepped into the signor's boat, and went floating with him down the moonlit lake. "How beautiful you have grown, Netta!" said the signor as we went. "Did I not tell you that you would be a woman when we should meet again?" I gravely shook my head. I remembered that he had not come back, even to see if I were alive. "You have also grown prim and cold," he added presently. "Indeed, you are so changed that I wonder how I knew you." "It is only that one cannot always be a child," I said, sadly; and he lifted me out of the boat, and brought me to the foot of the staircase which led up to my nest in the roof. When I peered down from the top I saw him still looking up. I looked then into the glass at the face which Signor John had called so beautiful. "Placido never told me that I was beautiful," I reflected. III. After that I saw the signor every day. I had long walks on the hills with him, and many a pleasant hour on the moonlit lake. He used to meet me at the Duomo, so that I could not think of my prayers; and Giulia began to tease me, calling me a noble English dame. "You'll not forget me and baby," she said. "You'll send us a present from England;" and I had already considered in secret about what I should send her. I thought I should be extremely happy were it not for Placido Lorez; but his face was always before me, and his eyes had got grave and sad. His sadness troubled me so much that I tried to keep out of his way, and he soon saw that I avoided him, and was careful not to annoy me. Once when I went out on the lake with the Signor John, it happened that Placido's boat was the boat he hired. Not till I was fairly seated did I see the boatman. Placido picked up his oars, and took his seat so that he could not see me; and never spoke a word nor moved his head. His oars dipped in the lake and scattered the shining water to right and left; but except for this sign of life he might have been taken for a man of stone. He did not even glance at me as I passed him out of the boat, but his downcast face haunted me all that night. The next day I was tripping along by the boats on the verge of the lake; my zither perched on my shoulder, and flowers blooming in my breast; rare, bright flowers, sent me that morning by the Signor John. It was far in the afternoon, when there is a glitter about the place, such a burning of color and flashing of water, such a glow and dazzle overhead and underfoot, that sometimes one can hardly see one's way. The boats look all the same, with their crimson cushions, and with the dash, as of ink, in the water, under the side that is against the sun. The boatmen's white shirts make them also one like another, though none were so tall as Placido, nor so quiet, nor yet so strong. This time I did not see him, however, till he put himself right in my way. "Netta, I want to speak to you." "Make haste then!" I said, gaily. Placido took my hand and made me sit on the side of his boat. Before this I had rather believed in his strength than known it. He looked at me, straight in the face, with a long, wistful gaze. "You are going to meet the signor?" he said. "Yes." Netta, has he asked you to be his wife?" I said, "Not yet, Placido;" and I began to get angry. "Netta, do you think you love him?" I hung my head and blushed, which might mean any thing. "Dear," he said, "you need not be angry, but you must listen to me. Gentlemen seldom marry peasant girls, though it may charm them to walk and sail with one like you. And you have yourself to look to. Don't think me selfish, for I have no wish on earth, if it be not to see you happy. If I could have made you happy, I would have done it; but as that is not to be-by Heaven I'll see that no one shall make you wretched!" "I am not so easily made wretched," I said, haughtily. Placido looked at me tenderly for a moment, and then turned away his face. "Wicked tongues can break the purest heart," he said, softly. I looked at him in great amazement, and then I blushed; my face blushed, and my ears, my throat, and my naked arms; and then the blood seemed to freeze within me, and my pulses got cold and still. I did not speak for a minute, but gazed on the ground and thought. "Placido, you may look at me now," I said, presently, "for I am only going to thank you." Then I turned and left him, and went my way. I did not flaunt so gaily nor trip so lightly as usual. The pain in Placido's face had given me a shock. The signor was already waiting for me up in the hills; it being now a matter of course that I should meet him there in the evenings, when we would watch the sun set redly behind the vineyards, while he talked to me all about England, and of his home where my pretty portrait now hung on the wall. I had believed that he always thought of me as future mistress of this honored home: never thinking at all of the gulf between us. Now I sat by him silently looking down on the shining lake. Netta," he said, "what ails you?" "I have been thinking of how I can tell you that I must not come here again," I said. "Must not come here again !" he echoed. "Who has the right to prevent you ?" "Only my own will," I answered. "Then that must bend to mine," he said, smiling; "for I cannot live without you." A lump rose up in my throat, but I choked it down. "Signor," I said sadly, "I am an ignorant girl from the mountains, while you - you know the world. You might have been kinder." He glanced quickly at my face; his brow suddenly reddened, and he turned his head away from me. So had Placido looked when he feared to pain me; only Placido had nothing to blush for; the blush had been left for me. "There is no need to be vexed," I said, "and I did not mean to hurt you. I am going back to the town now. I shall always be proud of your friendship, Signor John." I waited a minute patiently, but he did not move his head. I did not see any reason why I should wait or speak to him again, so I turned away, and began walking towards the town. I heard his steps coming behind me. "Netta!" he called. "Well?" I said. "Netta, will you be my wife?" I felt a great shock of triumph. He had really said the words, and I could tell Placido; and yet somehow all the gladness had gone out of my heart. In an hour my life was changed; yet I did not know it. I said "Yes," slowly, for I thought I loved him, and I sake. Of an evening, when I washed off the black and tidied up my hair, it used to be so that she might not be ashamed of me if we met; and even every time I made my head ache with some calculation out of my arithmetic- ten times as difficult because I had no one to help me - I used to strive and try on till I conquered, because it was all for Mary's sake. Not that I dared to have told her so, I thought, but somehow the influence of Mary used to lift me up more and more, till I should no more have thought of going to join the other pitmen in a public-house than of trying to fly. It was about this time I got talking to a young fellow about my age who worked in my shift. John Kelsey his name was, and I used to think it a pity that a fine, clever fellow like he was, handsome, stout, and strong, should be so fond of the low habits, dog-fighting and wrestling, so popular amongst our men, who enjoyed nothing better than getting over to Sheffield or Rotherham for what they called a day's sport, which generally meant unfitness for work during the rest of the week. "Well," said John, "your ways seem to pay you," and he laughed and went away; and I thought no more of it till about a month after, when I found out that I was what people who make use of plain, simple language call, in love; and I'll tell you how I found it out. I was going along one evening past old Andrews's house, when the door opened for a moment as if some one was coming out; but, as if I had been seen, it was closed directly. In that short moment, though, I had heard a laugh, and that laugh I was sure was John Kelsey's. I felt on fire for a few moments, as I stood there, unable to move, and then as I dragged myself away the feeling that came over me was one of blank misery and despair. I could have leaned my head up against the first wall I came to and cried like a child; but that feeling passed off, to be succeeded by one of rage. For, as the blindness dropped from my eyes, I saw clearly that not only did I dearly love Mary Andrews, love her with all a strong man's first love, such a love as one would feel who had till now made his sole companions of his books, - but that I was forestalled; that John Kelsey was evidently a regular visitor there, and, for aught I knew to the contrary, was her acknowledged lover. I did not like playing the spy; but, with a faint feeling of hope on me that I might have been mistaken, I walked back past the house, and there was no mistake; John Kelsey's head was plainly enough to be seen upon the blind, and I went home in despair. How I looked forward to the next Sunday, half resolved to boldly tell Mary of my love, and to ask her whether there was any truth in that which I imagined, though I almost felt as if I should not dare. Sunday came at last, and somehow I was rather late when I entered the great schoolroom, one end of which was devoted to the girls, the other to the boys. At the first glance I saw that Mary was in her place; at the second all the blood in my body seemed to rush to my heart, for there, standing talking to the superintendent, was John Kelsey, and the next minute he had a class of the youngest children placed in his charge, and he was hearing them read. "He has done this on account of what I said to him," was my first thought, and I felt glad; but directly after I was in misery, for my eyes rested upon Mary Andrews, and that explained all; it was for her sake he had come. I don't know how that afternoon passed, or any thing else, only that as soon as the children were dismissed I saw John Kelsey go up to Mary's side and walk home with her; and then I walked out up the hillside, wandering here and there amongst the mouths of the old, unused pits, half full of water, and thinking to myself that I might just as well be down there in one of them, for there was no more hope or pleasure for me in this world. Time slipped on, and I could plainly see one thing that troubled me sorely; John was evidently making an outward show of being a hard working fellow, striving hard for improvement, so as to stand well in old Andrews's eyes, while I knew for a fact that he was as drunken and dissipated as any young fellow that worked in the pit. I could not tell Andrews this, nor I could not tell Mary. If she loved him it would grieve her terribly, and be dishonorable as well; and perhaps he might improve. I can tell him though, I thought, and I made up my mind that I would; and meeting him one night, evidently hot and excited with liquor, I spoke to him about it. "If you truly love that girl, John," I said, “you'll give up this sort of thing." He called me a meddling fool, said he had watched me, that he knew I had a hankering after her myself, but she only laughed at me; and one way and another so galled me that we fought. I went home that night bruised, sore, and ashamed of my passion; while he went to the Andrews's and said he had had to thrash me for speaking insultingly about Mary. I heard this afterwards, and I don't know how it was, but I wrote to her telling her it was false, and that I loved her too well ever to have acted so. When next we met I felt that she must have read my letter, and laughed at me. At all events, John Kelsey did; aud I had the mortification of seeing that old Andrews evidently favored his visits. John still kept up his attendence at the school, but he was at the far end; and more than once when I looked up it was to find Mary Andrews with her eyes fixed on me. She lowered them though directly, and soon after it seemed to me that she turned them upon John. It seems to me that a man never learns till he is well on in life how he should behave towards the lady of his choice, and how much better it would be if he would go and, in a straightforward, manly fashion, tell her of his feelings. I was like the rest, I could not do it; but allowed six months to pass over my head, — six weary, wretched months, — till Christmas came on, cold and bitter, but not so cold and bitter as was my heart. It was Christmas Eve, and in a dreamy, listless way I was sitting over my breakfast before starting for work, when I heard a sound, and knew what it meant before there were shrieks in the village, and women running out and making for the pit's mouth a quarter of a mile away. I tell you I turned sick with horror, for I knew that at least twenty men would be down on the night shift, and though it was close upon their leaving time, they could not have come up yet. "Pit's fired! pit's fired!" I heard people shrieking; not that there was any need, for there wasn't a soul that didn't know it, for the pit had spoken for itself. And as I hurried out I thought, all in a flash like, of what a Christmas it would be for some families there; and I seemed to see a long procession of rough coffins going to the churchyard, and to hear the wailings of the widow and the fatherless. There was no seeming, though, in the wailings, for the poor frightened women, with their shawls pinned over their heads, were crying and shrieking to one another as they ran on. I didn't lose no time, as you may suppose, in running to the pit's mouth, but those who lived nearer were there long before me; and by the time I got there I found that the cage had brought up part of the men, and three who were insensible, and that it was just going down again. It went down directly; and just as it disappeared who should come running up, pale and scared, but Mary Andrews. She ran right up to the knot of men who had come up, and who were talking loudly, in a wild, frightened way, about how the pit had fired, — they could not tell how, and she looked from one to the other, and then at the men who were scorched, and then she ran towards the pit's mouth, where I was. "There's no one belonging to you down, is there?" I asked her. "Oh, yes yes! my father was down, and John Kelsey." As she said the first words, I felt ready for any thing; but as she finished her sentence, a cold chill came over me, and she saw the change, and looked at me in a strange, half angry way. |