LITMIR.BIZ

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see she tries to improve,' I whispered, as Mrs. Bangs went into the hall to get some sulphur-water for us.

      'Vanity,' answered Ermine.

      We drank our dose slowly, and our hostess talked on and on. Even I, her champion, began to weary of her complainings. 'How dark it is!' said Ermine at last, rising and drawing aside the curtain. 'See, Dora, a storm is close upon us.'

      We hurried to the door, but one look at the black cloud was enough to convince us that we could not reach the Community hotel before it would break, and somewhat drearily we returned to the keeping-room, which grew darker and darker, until our hostess was obliged to light a candle. 'Reckon you'll have to stay all night; I'd like to have you ladies,' she said. 'The Community ain't got nothing covered to send after you, except the old king's coach, and I misdoubt they won't let that out in such a storm, steps and all. When it begins to rain in this valley, it do rain, I can tell you; and from the way it's begun, 't won't stop 'fore morning. You just let me send the Roarer over to the mine, he'll tell Sol; Sol can tell the Community folks, so they'll know where you be.'

      I looked somewhat aghast at this proposal, but Ermine listened to the rain upon the roof a moment, and then quietly accepted; she remembered the long hills of tenacious red clay and her kid boots were dear to her.

      'The Roarer, I presume, is some faithful kobold who bears your message to and from the mine,' she said, making herself as comfortable as the wooden settle would allow.

      The sulphur-woman stared. 'Roarer's Sol's old dog,' she answered, opening the door; perhaps one of you will write a bit of a note for him to carry in his basket, – Roarer, Roarer!'

      The melancholy dog came slowly in, and stood still while she tied a small covered basket around his neck.

      Ermine took a leaf from her tablets and wrote a line or two with the gold pencil attached to her watch-chain.

      'Well now, you do have everything handy, I do declare,' said the woman, admiringly.

      I glanced at the paper.

      'MR. SOLOMON BANGS: My cousin Theodora Wentworth and myself have accepted the hospitality of your house for the night. Will you be so good as to send tidings of our safety to the Community, and oblige,

ERMINIA STUART.'

      The Roarer started obediently out into the rain-storm with his little basket; he did not run, but walked slowly, as if the storm was nothing compared to his settled melancholy.

      'What a note to send to a coal-miner!' I said, during a momentary absence of our hostess.

      'Never fear; it will be appreciated,' replied Ermine.

      'What is this king's carriage of which you spoke?' I asked, during the next hour's conversation.

      'O, when they first come over from Germany, they had a sort of a king; he knew more than the rest, and he lived in that big brick house with dormel-winders and a cuperler, that stands next the garden. The carriage was hisn, and it had steps to let down, and curtains and all; they don't use it much now he's dead. They're a queer set anyhow! The women look like meal-sacks. After Sol seen me, he couldn't abide to look at 'em.'

      Soon after six we heard the great gate creak.

      'That's Sol,' said the woman,' and now of course Roarer'll come in and track all over my floor.' The hall door opened and a shadow passed into the opposite room, two shadows, – a man and a dog.

      'He's going to wash himself now,' continued the wife; 'he's always washing himself, just like a horse.'

      'New fact in natural history, Dora love,' observed Ermine.

      After some moments the miner appeared, – a tall, stooping figure with high forehead, large blue eyes, and long thin yellow hair; there was a singularly lifeless expression in his face, and a far-off look in his eyes. He gazed about the room in an absent way, as though he scarcely saw us. Behind him stalked the Roarer, wagging his tail slowly from side to side.

      'Now, then, dont yer see the ladies, Sol? Where's yer manners?' said his wife, sharply.

      'Ah, – yes, – good evening,' he said, vaguely. Then his wandering eyes fell upon Ermine's beautiful face, and fixed themselves there with strange intentness.

      'You received my note, Mr. Bangs?' said my cousin in her soft voice.

      'Yes, surely. You are Erminia,' replied the man, still standing in the centre of the room with fixed eyes. The Roarer laid himself down behind his master, and his tail still wagging, sounded upon the floor with a regular tap.

      'Now then, Sol, since you've come home, perhaps you'll entertain the ladies while I get supper,' quoth Mrs. Bangs; and forthwith began a clatter of pans.

      The man passed his long hand abstractedly over his forehead. 'Eh,' he said with long-drawn utterance, – 'eh-h? Yes, my rose of Sharon, certainly, certainly.'

      'Then why don't you do it!' said the woman, lighting the fire in the brick stove.

      'And what will the ladies please to do?' he answered, his eyes going back to Ermine.

      'We will look over your pictures, sir,' said my cousin, rising; 'they are in the upper room, I believe.'

      A great flush rose in the painter's thin cheeks. 'Will you,' he said eagerly, – 'will you? Come!'

      'It's a broken-down old hole, ladies; Sol will never let me sweep it out. Reckon you'll be more comfortable here,' said Mrs. Bangs, with her arms in the flour.

      'No, no, my lily of the valley. The ladies will come with me; they will not scorn the poor room.'

      'A studio is always interesting,' said Ermine, sweeping up the rough stairs behind Solomon's candle. The dog followed us, and laid himself down on an old mat, as though well accustomed to the place. 'Eh-h, boy, you came bravely through the storm with the lady's note.' said his master, beginning to light candle after candle. 'See him laugh!'

      'Can a dog laugh?'

      'Certainly; look at him now. What is that but a grin of happy contentment? Don't the Bible say, "grin like a dog"?'

      'You seem much attached to the Roarer.'

      'Tuscarora, lady, Tuscarora. Yes, I love him well. He has been with me through all, he has watched the making of all my pictures; he always lies there when I paint.'

      By this time a dozen candles were burning on shelves and brackets, and we could see all parts of the attic studio. It was but a poor place, unfloored in the corners where the roof slanted down, and having no ceiling but the dark beams and thatch; hung upon the walls were the pictures we had seen, and many others, all crude and high colored, and all representing the same face, – the sulphur-woman in her youth, the poor artist's only ideal. He showed us these one by one, handling them tenderly, and telling us, in his quaint language, all they symbolized. 'This is Ruth, and denoteth the power of hope,' he said. 'Behold Judith, the queen of revenge. And this dear one is Rachel, for whom Jacob served seven years, and they seemed unto him but a day, so well he loved her.' The light shone on his pale face, and we noticed the far-off look in his eyes, and the long, tapering fingers coming out from the hard-worked broad palm. To me it was a melancholy scene, the poor artist with his daubs and the dreary attic.

      But Ermine seemed eagerly interested; she looked at the staring pictures, listened to the explanations, and at last she said gently, 'Let me show you something of perspective, and the part that shadows play in a pictured face. Have you any crayons?'

      No; the man had only his coarse paints and lumps of charcoal; taking a piece of the coal in her delicate hand, my cousin began to work upon a sheet of drawing-paper attached to the rough easel. Solomon watched her intently, as she explained and demonstrated some of the rules of drawing, the lights and shades, and the manner of representing the different features and curves. All his pictures were full faces, flat and unshaded; Ermine showed him the power of the profile and the three-quarter view. I grew weary of watching them, and pressing my face against the little window gazed out into the night; steadily the rain came down and the hills shut us in like a well. I thought of our home in C – , and its bright lights, warmth, company, and life. Why should we come masquerading out among the

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