"Oh, how lovely! I wish poor Saint Cecilia had some of those !" It was dreadfully awkward, of course, and how angry she would have been! But I always knew that matchmaking was not my forte. "May I ask why Miss Smith should have that adjective applied to her? The last one that I should think of using in connection with her." and purity. Not an hour after she had told me that she had given me all her heart; that she had never had a thought for any other man, and had promised to be my wife, I saw a letter which she had written to a friend of mine, who was staying in the same hotel, professing the same love which she had declared belonged to me alonesuch a touching outburst of undying love and confidence as I never read before or since! I went away the next "She is ill to-day; but I called her poor because she is morning, and I never saw her again until she came to Mrs. unhappy." "She dissembles her feelings with great success," he remarked, in hatefully sarcastic tones. "One can't go about weeping and wringing one's hands. She is not in any way deceitful; she is as true and frank as sunlight." My conscience did give me a little twinge as I thought of the way the girl was carrying on with Saint Cupid. He smiled in that disagreeble, scornful way again. he looked at me steadily, inquiringly. But "I did not know that you had such a distrust of womankind," I said. "Not of womankind-only of some women; bitter experience has taught me.' "Doctor Ahlborn, you misunderstand and misjudge her," I said, earnestly. "I would give my life to be able to believe so," he said, with his voice full of passion. He was gone, but he had left the violets in my hands. I gave them to Saint Cecilia, but I did not dare to tell her where they came from. Rawley's." "Wasn't it possible that there was some mistake! Did you never say anything to her about it-ask any explanation ?" "Was any explanation possible? I saw the letter with my own eyes; her name was signed to it. I had observed her coquettish way with him, but I was a blinded, infatuated fool, and I thought it was only a natural and artless wish to please. I ought to have seen that she was a heartless flirt, but I didn't." I must acknowledge that I was a little bewildered at first, but my faith in Saint Cecilia arose triumphant from the test. "I don't know how it was, but I know there was some wretched mistake about it," I said, stubbornly. "That girl, whatever her faults may be, is as true as steel; and you owed it to her to ask for an explanation." We entered the church by the little side-door, which Saint Cecilia always left open behind her. A Bach fugue was pealing solemnly and grandly down from the organloft. Then came an uncanny, ghostly thing that made me About a week after, Saint Cecilia came to me one after- shiver. noon, and asked me to congratulate her. How the girl did play! It became intolerable at length "You don't mean to tell me that you are engaged to the wild, weird sobbings and wailings, as of a soul in torArthur Kingsford ?" I said. I must say that I felt inclined then to leave the girl to her own destruction, but I did venture a few words of remonstrance, which were entirely unheeded; she would not even listen, but took herself off, saying she was going to the church to play herself into a better mood. An organ was a great solace to her; she always went to St. Jude's when she felt especially dispirited. As soon as she had gone, I put on my wrappings, thinking I would go the church and hear the music, as I had often done without her knowledge. I met Doctor Ahlborn in the hall just going out. An unaccountable impulse-certainly I had no design in it then-impelled me to ask him to go also. "She really plays beautifully, and she need not know that she has an audience," I added, reading in his face that he wished to ge, but his pride prevented him. ment, that she drew from the organ. "Let us go. I don't like her playing to-day," I said. Doctor Ahlborn arose, but he seemed loath to go. "Have you ever been up in the tower? The view is said to be very fine," he said. "No. I should like to go. Can we ?" "I think so. The door is usually unlocked, I am sure." As we went by the gallery-door I looked in. Saint Cecilia's hat was off, and a ray of sunlight, streaming through a stained window, fell on her head, forming a perfect halo. I motioned to Doctor Ahlborn. "Look! Saint Cecilia !" I said. "Did you ever see anything more beautiful ?" He looked, with his heart in his eyes. However he might despise her, he could not help loving her. He turned away abruptly, and started up the stairs. I don't know whether it was my good genius at my elbow or only the spirit of audacity that made me do what I did. I stepped in beside the organ and asked Saint Cecilia if she did not want to go up in the tower. I startled her, He assented, like one who yields against his will, and of course; she was completely absorbed in her music, and we walked to St. Jude's together. I talked to him about Saint Cecilia, with a desperate hope arising within me that it might not yet be quite too late to bring these two, who loved each other, together, and prevent the girl from flinging away her life's happi ness. He scarcely replied to me, as I set forth St. Cecilia's perfections with as guileless a manner as I could assume; but at length he burst out, to my great surprise, for I had always found him a very reserved man. "Don't ask me to believe in her! You don't know her as I do. You are surprised, of course, but we were betrothed lovers once. I loved her as I believe no woman was ever loved before. I trusted her utterly. My faith in God was not more perfect than my faith in her truth had fancied herself alone; but she did want to go. "It is the very thing !" she said, enthusiastically. "I have wanted for a long time to go up there, and I want to be lifted above the world to-day, especially "-laughing, but with a weary little sigh. She had not the slightest suspicion that she was to have any companion but me, and certainly Doctor Ahlborn did not expect any addition to the party. Doctor Ahlborn was waiting for me at the first landing, where the darkness made it impossible to distinguish an object until you had come close upon it. Saint Cecilia recognized him with a little start of surprise and dismay. He lifted his hat to her without a word. I saw that her first impulse was to turn back, but she saw in an instant that that would be too marked, and calmly resigned her self to the situation. I was forced to talk for the whole | been more than she could bear. I could not very well get party, the other two being embarrassingly silent, and as out of hearing, it was so dark as I went down the stairs, the steep ascent had a painful effect upon my breath, I and I had a dreadful suspicion that the place was haunted felt that I was reaping, in some measure, the punishment by owls and bats. due to manœuvres. And it was evident that my manœuvring was of no avail if they would not speak to each other! 66 We reached the top at last, just as I was beginning to despair. We were above the world," indeed. The city at our feet looked like a toy-village. We stood there until the sunset light faded and the twilight's darkness and hush began to fall around us; there were very few words spoken, but I could see that the little leaven which I had been able to drop into Doctor Ahlborn's mind was working. Saint Cecilia, too, seemed in a softened mood; whether it was the result of being "lifted above the world," or of some other influence, I could not tell. Doctor Ahlborn replied to some slight general remark that she made, and she did not "wither him with a glance of scorn,' nor relapse at once into silence, as I expected. I was congratulating myself upon having achieved a small amount of success, when I was startled by hearing, in the distance, the clicking of a key in its look. " It flashed across me that the sexton was making his rounds for the night, and had locked the door which led to the steeple. Of course, my plain duty was to make my suspicions known at once, while the sexton might still be within hearing, but I felt as if I were chained and tonguetied by some unseen power. Saint Cecilia and Doctor Ahlborn were sitting at the same window, and in rather close proximity, as they were obliged to sit in order to look out. Outside each window there was a narrow platform, surrounded by a low railing. People of steady nerves, who were proof against giddiness, went out on this platform. Doctor Ahlborn had done so, but Saint Cecilia and I had remained inside. I did not feel as if I could disturb them at this junctureand Arthur Kingsford surely could not get his answer tonight, if his inamorata was locked up in the churchsteeple. That young lady arose to her feet suddenly, and exclaimed: "Do you see how dark it is growing? We must go ; but first I must go out on the platform-just for one moment. I have an irresistible desire to go, and I don't think I shall be dizzy." I tried to dissuade her from going, and I knew by the expression of Doctor Ahlborn's face that he would much rather she would not, but he offered no remonstrance; he merely said, in an exceedingly dignified way: I heard Saint Cecilia's first remarks; the tones were as dignified as could be expected from a young woman recovering from a dead faint. Then I heard Doctor Ahlborn say, in tender, impassioned tones : "Dolly, my darling, don't turn from me in that disdainful way! There is-there must be some dreadful mistake!" At that point I heroically put my fingers in my ears. I knew that it would be all right, and the conversation was not intended for my ears. I think it must have been nearly an hour before those two awoke to the realities of life sufficiently to realize that they ought to go home. 1 think I was more than half asleep; they awoke me by stumbling over me on the stairs. "Do you know, we really ought to be going ?" said Saint Cecilia, in a voice of saint-like calmness and sweet"It is growing quite dark." ness. Growing dark, indeed! As if it had not bee, “pitch dark" for fully an hour! "We can't go," I replied, with a calmness which rivaled her own. "We are locked in." Doctor Ahlborn would not believe it until he had gone to the foot of the stairs and tried the door. Finding it was locked, he shouted frantically from the tower, until one would have thought the city would be aroused; but the church was a considerable distance from the street, and the steeple was very high. "We may as well resign ourselves to the situation, and be thankful it is no worse," said Doctor Ahlborn, at last. And, indeed, I thought those two young people resigned themselves to the situation with great cheerfulness. They sat very close together, she sheltered by his overcoat, and her head in very close proximity to his shoulder. And I slept the sleep of the just. We succeeded in attracting the attention of a passer in the gray of the early morning, and we were released from our confinement. Mrs. Devereux was peeping out from behind her blinds as we went up the door-steps. Miss Laurie's head, regardless even of the lack of teeth and false front, was thrust out of her window. I drew St. Cecilia into my room before I let her go to her own. "I know it is all right now; you needn't tell that," I said; "but I want to know how it ever happened to go wrong!" "Ned Vialle, who pretended to be a friend of his, was "I must insist upon going with you, if you go. It is my cousin Dolly's lover. He persecuted me continually, not safe for you to go alone." "I shall certainly go alone; I am not in the least timid," she said, haughtily, and he drew back with a very cold bow. but I treated him as he deserved. In revenge he showed Carl-Doctor Ahlborn, I mean-a letter which Dolly had written him, and pretended that it came from me. That is the whole simple, dreadful mistake! I would not have believed that Carl would doubt me so easily, still it was a plausible thing, and-I have forgiven him! But it never would have come right if it had not been for you, and that delightful old steeple. I will be married nowhere but in St. Jude's Church !" But after she had gone out he put his foot up on the window-sill, and leaned out where he could reach her. She had scarcely stood there a moment when she uttered a shriek of terror, stretched her hands out, and I saw her sway. I covered my face with my hands. But I knew that a strong arm was stretched out to save her. He drew her in through the window, white and senseless. He showered kisses on her face and hands, and called her his-and then ran off. "love" and his "darling," and other nonsensical names, which I thought it discreet not to hear. Indeed, when I discovered that she had only fainted, I thought it discreet to retire to a reasonable distance. I did not wonder that she had fainted; her nerves had been overstrained for a long time, and this last excitement had "With Saint Cupid to officiate ?" said I. She made a ridiculous little moue-the heartless thing! They were married at St. Jude's, but not by Arthur Kingsford; he is still St. Cupid, with many a string to his bow. They do not live at our boarding-house, but in a delightful little establishment of their owr just around the corner. Mrs. Devereux is never tired of talking of her "charming friend, Mrs. Doctor Ahlborn." courtyard that they are supported by wooden columns, and thus form a rude corridor, which affords shelter for the beasts from the weather. In some parts of the country large flattened slabs of cork are substituted for tiles, and are laid overlapping in the manner of slates; a layer of earth is beaten down on the top, which soon becomes overgrown with moss and weeds. These roofs are much flatter than the tiled ones, being just sufficiently inclined to throw off water when it rains heavily; they thus form terraces useful for various purposes, such as drying fruit. The rooms are lighted chiefly from their doorways, which lead from the courtyard, but in the outer walls are a few windows just large enough to permit a person's head being protruded. Rooms are set apart for the women and children of the household, and on one side of the courtyard is the guestchamber. On entering this, the stranger is struck by finding it resemble a barn rather than an ordinary room at an inn. The roof is supported by columns and beams made from the roughly trimmed trunks of trees, and the floor is of beaten plaster. At one end of the room is a wall about five feet in height, supporting a broad platform or stage, on which are placed gigantic earthenware jars, square in plan, and five or six feet in height. These contain a provision of dried figs and grain, which is thus secured from damp and the attacks of rats. The platform is the roof of a stable for the accommodation of mules and COWS. The room has only one door, which serves also as a passage to this stable. The beasts entering, turn, and are driven down an inclined plane, which opens between the outer wall of the building and the wall supporting the platform, and find themselves in their stalls. The floor of the stable is three or four feet lower than where the guest reclines, who is startled at seeing the heads of the beasts appear at large square openings, on a level with and facing him. This singular arrangement has, at any rate, the merit of allowing the traveler to observe whether his animals are properly cared for, since literally they sup at the sideboard. In one corner is a small hole made in the floor, where live embers are placed if the weather be cold, the smoke finding its exit as best it can through a hole above. Rugs are spread on the floor, and in due time the evening meal is brought, which will include a Kouskous, the characteristic dish of the country, answering to the macaroni of Southern Italy. The Amine and some of his friends sit by while the guest eats; but they do not partake themselves; their rôle is to enliven the stranger with their conversation, to serve him, and to encourage him to eat as much as he can. When he has finished they retire. Before relating my story, it will not be out of place to mention a few facts relating to the country, which, in my estimation, render it interesting for an artist. Firstly, the landscape combines great beauty with an imposing grandeur. There is a luxuriance of vegetation which more than rivals that of Southern Italy; and the glorious mountain masses, with their scarped precipices, cannot be easily matched for their form and color. The land is highly cultivated, and of a happy and cheerful aspect. The dress of the men consists of a tunic and burnoose. The artistic merit of this loose and extremely simple dress is not in the actual clothes, but in the manner of wearing them, which is varied. From the arrangements of folds into which these garments fall being ever changing, the artistic sense of the observer is always kept alive. A man thus simply dressed may by some chance movement fling his cloak about his person, so that its masses and folds assume a dignity and interest worthy of per manence in sculpture. Such harmonies unfold themselves suddenly, and are fleeting, but they are an incentive to endeavor to record them. I believe this is the only corner of the world where the dress of the women is still the same as the Greek dress of antiquity. Though the Romans dominated North Africa, there is no reason to suppose that it was introduced by them; because, in a certain condition of society, it is the dress which common sense dictates. Setting out for the land of the Kabyles, we approached the Aïth Ménguelleth, where some French priests have a mission-house, at which we were hospitably welcomed. After resting here we started on a walk of exploration, first directing our steps toward the highest point, at the back of the schoolhouse, where there are two villages, separated by a small open piece of flat land. These are named Ouarzin and Taourirt en Taïdith, meaning the Ogre, and the Mount of the Dog. They are of the usual quaint character, narrow alleys, running irregularly up and down, innocent of paving, though rich in stones; in wet weather almost impassably muddy. The stone walls of the houses, on either side of these alleys, are only pierced here and there with the smallest of windows, and the entrances. The wooden doors are often ornamented with rough notchings and carvings. In walking through these villages attention is chiefly occupied in looking out for dogs, which are apt to come dashing out of the houses, barking in a most vicious manner, looking very much as if they would relish a piece out of one's leg. Taourirt boasts of a Jamâ, or Mosque. Its tower crowns the highest point of the mountain, and forms an effective feature in the landscape, though it is a modest structure both in size and style; moreover, the building is greatly out of repair and falling to pieces, being but little used, for the Kaybles are not a mosquegoing people; in this, as in other respects, their character presents a strong contrast to that of the bigoted Arabs. I once asked a Kayble why their mosques were abandoned. He replied that, before they were conquered by the French, they used to attend them very regularly, and that if Allah had cared about their conduct, and paid attention to it, He would not have allowed them to receive the kicks and cuffs of a too hard fate, such as they had been subject to ever since. Each village has usually three or four outlets, where there are covered resting-places, called Jamâs. These, like the houses, are of rough blocks of stone, and have tiled roofs; they are thirty or forty feet in length, and some twenty feet in breadth. The gangway passes through the centre, and on each side are broad stone benches, where people can sit or recline at ease in the cool shade. Men are always to be found at these places, chatting, smoking, sleeping, or maybe stitching; for the men do all the tailoring, even to sewing together lengths of cotton stuff, to make dresses for their wives; the women weave, but do not use the needle. These covered resting-places may be considered as the centres of village politics, for every village is divided into different parties, each anxious The women, although Mohammedans, expose their faces to elect the Amine, or chief, who has power to inflict fines with the same freedom as Europeans. It is thickly populated, and the outdoor life of the people, both as regards their agricultural and pastoral occupations, is picturesque. Not that these are strange in their character; on the contrary, they have the charm of being simple world-wide performances, common to all time. up to a certain amount. |