A Venetian June

eve

V

eve

t and prepare for the worst." Upon which the cloud had gradually taken on more formidable proportions, until, just at dusk, it burst in a torrent of rain, which swept the Grand Canal clear of sight-seers, and sent the nightly serenaders, who

abandoned his nieces to their self-inflicted ordeal, and mounted the stairs to his own familiar quar

f its straining oarsman. The passengers had taken refuge under the felze, or gondola hood. Impatient of the slow progress of the boat, the Colonel looked down into the hotel-garden directly beneath his windows, which was drowned in a moist blur, that only seemed intensified where it focused about the electric lights. Over there again, across the Canal, stood

n or another, he never seemed able to arrange his affairs to that end until the fifth year had come round. Somebody was sure to die and leave him executor of his will; or this or that charity of which he was treasurer made a point of getting into

to wait until they had met by chance. He wondered if she were expecting him. Proba

ough she could ever have cared for a battered old wreck like him! And yet he knew, with an indubitable knowledge, that he shou

g, after so long an interval, caused the revival of old memories, caused a shock which might have been avoided if he had ventured sooner. And then, when another five years had passed, he had begu

rain kept at it! He could hear the swish of it on the wall

id not even intend to. He could resolve not to, here, in cold blood, with the disheartening rain blotting out the rose-bushes down below, and a disheartening conviction of failure blotting out his nerve and courage. But to-morrow she would rise to meet him, in her own gracious way; he should touch her beautiful, firm hand, where a single jewe

er? It must be a lover, or some such sanguine person, bent, as like as not, upon a fruitless

ry becoming. That was another curious thing; every time he saw her she had grown more beautiful. The years that had dealt so harshly with him had touched her only to an added grace and tenderness; experience had drawn only noble lines upon her face, and there was an ev

n, may we

ies of youth upon their heads, came rustling in upon the old bach

ncle's chair. "They shrieked Margherita and Santa Lucia and a lot of opera

nd we simply dragged her into conversation. She took us for English and was terribly shocked to find we were Americans, and not even Canadians at that. 'You don't mean

in; "it isn't patrioti

our self-respect?" asked Un

e a person from the Isles. She rose to it like a tennis-ball, and asked what isles I referred to. 'Why, the British Isles,' I a

ery transitory and inconsequent thing. And lo! a change had come. The influx of youth would appear to have put to flight other clouds than those of a morbid mind. The rain had altogether ceased. He could see the roses gleaming moistly in the circles of electric light. The serenaders

Pauline's voice through the key-hole. "We