LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1879, 2 March 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE STONEMASON'S TRIUMPH.

* You will return In two hours’ time ; that will be half-past twelve,’ said Miss Vane, looking at her watch, ‘ Yes, miss, said the man-servant, touching his hat.

Miss Vane stood watching her pretty ponies until they, with the phaeton, turned the corner of the High street; then, with a quioK, vivacious step, she ran up the Cathedral steps, and entered the building by the half open door. Mrs Champ, the verger’s wife, met her with a oourtsey and a smile, that presently gave place to a look of concern, as she said ‘ I don’t know how you’ll go on with your paintin’ this morning, Miss Vane, for that Mr. Chipstone, the mason, have sent to repair Sir Geoffrey’s monument, and there’s a nasty rude man a hammerin’ away at it now, and, as you know, miss, it’s quite close to where you sit.’ * A rude man ?’

* Yes, Miss Vane. When I told as I didn’t know as it would be convenient for him to do his work to-day, as you were coming to paint close by, he replied that it would be inconvenient to be sure, but he must try and put up with it, which was, as I told him, a piece of sarcasm unbecoming a person of his station.’ Miss Vane langhed. ‘ If his rudeness consists only in his objecting to me, I shall not fear him in the least.’

* Just bo. miea; and I’ll be bound you ■will give him as good as he sends. I will bring down your easel, and paints, and things at once ; and if yon like, miss, I will walk up and down—— * ‘ Oh, no, please do not; I can take my own part quite well. But you may bring my easel.’

Miss Vane walked to her accustomed place in the aisle, drawing off her gloves, and looked with amused curiosity at ‘the rude man.’ Her step was light, and the mason. Intent upon his work, took no notica of her. His back was to her, and she saw only a tall figure, in a white loose blouse, and heard him humming softly as he chipped away the decayed marble. By the time she had removed her hat and mantle, Mrs Champ came bustling up The mason, still unconscious of Miss Vane’s proximity, perceived Mrs Champ’s approach, and paused in his work to say—- * That’s right, mother; fyou’ve brought some playthings to keep the young lady out of mischief.’

* Mother, indeed! I should be very sorry to be your mother, young man,’ retorted Mrs Champ, setting down the camp-stool with a thump. The mason turned to reply, saw Mias Vane, and without any appearance of confusion took off his hat and bowed. Miss Vane received his silent apology with calm Indifference, and looked at the man without moving a muscle, until he resumed his work.

Mrs Champ having administered to all the young lady's wants, withdrew, passing close by the mason to show him she had no fear, and ejaculating, * Mother indeed 1’ in a tone of withering contempt. It is comparatively easy to forgive handsome people, but Miss Vane was not moved to pardon this man, though his appearance was strikingly good and his manner free from that awkward embarrassment which characterises ill-bred people in the presence of their superiors. His face was long and thin, with well-sunk eyes, a pronounced, yet delicate nose, and a Vandyke beard. Ho was powdered with the white dust from his work, which, making his skin appear particularly soft and fair, lent lustre and darkness to his fine eyes. His simple gesture of apology was more eloquent and appropriate than words could have been in the circumstances, and showed that he had good taste as well as good features ; bat his claims to an equality with herself, asserted in his manner, made it impossible for her to feel that cold indifference to his affront which she assumed. She was angry with herself for being vexed by such a trifle, and asked herself what this man had done that could not be forgotten as quickly as the gancherle of an ordinary servant. He had called the paraphernalia of her art toys to amuse a child—that was all ; but it compelled her to consider whether the sting of the sarcasm lay not in its truth.

Laura Vane was not merely a beautiful girl. She had desires beyond and higher than the drawing-room conquests and picnic pleasures of her sex. Her face and figure were in Nature’s hands to mould as she would ; but the soul within her was for herself to shape, and she sought earnestly to make that admirable. Not that she was neglectful ot her appearance, to admiration of her personal charms —indeed no. Her dress was unexceptionable ; she did not adopt the style of costume in which intellectual girls —poor plain things ! —usually display their eccentricities ; she was not a dowdy ; on the contrary she was as tastefully apparelled as though she had nothing better to think about. She gave the greater part of her time to the cultivation of artistic tastes. She played and sang, she worked tapestry, she modelled a little, and painted a good deal. Admiration was bestowed upon everything she did, and her judgment was appealed to in all questions of the artistic kind, which agitated the esthetic circle of her friends. Happily for her she had too keen a perception of merit to be quite convinced that she deserved all the eulogy she received. Among her flatterers was not one who painted better than she.

and the leas the enlogiaer knew of art the more enthusiastic was his praise. The Royal Academy of Arts had rejected her pictures, and she could believe sincerely that her friends were right in ascribing the rejection to professional jealousy on the part of the Hanging Committee. She had remarked that the meed of praise lavished 1 by gentlemen_ young ladies was strictly in proportion with their personal beauty ;■ and with the knowledge that she wan herself beautiful same the unpleasant suggestion that she was praised for her pictures with as little discrimination as was the lovely Miss Armitage —a young lady whom she cordially : detested—for her execrable performance on I the zither. And the suspicion had once or twice presented itself to her mind that, in fact, she was no artist at all, but only a selfdeluded, dilettanti dabbler In art. This self-doubting mood is common toevery artist, and is hopefully significant of the power to improve ; it is the passing cloud in a sunny life. Unintentionally, the man had raised this cloud, and over-sensitive Miss Vane was quick to feel its shadow. She was angry with herself for being influenced by the wards of a mere mason, and that made her angry with him ; now willingly enough she enforced Mrs Champ’s opinion that he was a rude man, and that his presence was extremely inconvenient. She sat down at her painting with distaste, and failed entirely to derive her customary gratification in the contemplation of the work before her. She felt inclined to remove her apparatus at once, and walk home without waiting for her pony-carriage; but the reflection that this would justify the idea that she was playing and not working, determined her to persevere, unpleasant as the prospect seemed. She took up her palet and proceeded to dress it. The constant chipping at her side irritated her. She paused, and looking along the cold grey aisle, thought of the warm sunlight and cheerful cornfields that lay beside the homeward path ; she knew she could do no good work with this disinclination to study. After all, why should she regard what was thought of herself and her employment by a common mason’s man ? No, she would not attempt to work—she would quietly retire, and send Mrs Champ to remove her —‘ playthings.’ That word goaded her; and setting her lips firmly, she went onwards with the mixing of her colours. Was it true that she was playing with art ? Was it not true ? Did her painting serve any other purpose than to occupy her idle time, and produce flattery for herself ? Still tormenting herself with these questions, she uncovered her picture. Indeed, there were good points in the painting, and she looked with satisfaction at certain little bits of careful study and conscientious work.

‘I must trouble you to cover your materials for a time; I am going to move these boards, and the dust will fly.’ said the mason, turning about to face Miss Vane. ‘ Oh, this is very provoking!’ exclaimed the young lady, losing at once the little composure gained bnt the moment before. ‘ Cannot you shake your boards when I am gone ?’ ‘ Certainly, if you will be good enough to go now,’ replied the man, with the most annoying suavity.’ * But I cannot go now, and I will not, I have come here on purpose to paint. ’ * And I have come here on purpose to repair this masonry. It Is a question who can best afford to give up work for a week or so —you, who paint for amusement, or I, who cut stone for my living.’ * Yon are very rude I’ ‘ No, I am not—at least, not intentionally. Come, we are both losing time to no purpose bnt to aggravate your discomfort. Let me lighten your inconvenience as well as I can. I will remove your traps’ (‘ traps I’ echoed Miss Vane to herself), ‘and do all my dirty work while yon have a walk in the cloisters. One cannot walk there on a morning such as this without feeling peace and good-will towards all men. When yon hear mo chipping away again, you may consider yourself free from further inconvenience for at least an hour, ’

‘ I can move my ntenslla myself, said Miss Vane, somewhat mollified by the strangely-familiar yet easy assurance of the man' 1 You had better do as I advise.’

The mason had advanced to the easel, and was looking at the work upon it as he spoke. Miss Vane was annoyed now by the equality asserted in the man’s behavionr, and she said, with a touch of sarcastic good-nature in her tone :

’ Does it strike you that you are speaking to me with unwarrantable freedom ?’

‘ It did not occnr to me to give the matter a thought before ; but now I look at your wcrk, I see no reason why I should not apeak to you with perfect freedom. Ton are an artist.’

He spoke these last words impressively, as he carefully covered the picture, and Miss Vane’s face flushed with pleasure. She felt that the greatest compliment she bad ever received had been offered to her by this—mason’s man. Her heart throbbed quickly with delight. Her elation was as inconsistent as her previous dejection had been. To be placed on a level with a man little above an ordinary mechanic was not in itself a compliment, but it was another thing to be recognised as a fellow-worker by one whose quiet assertion proclaimed him an artist, and conscious of the respect his position in a noble profession entitled bim to. He had implied his approval of her painting, and she thirsted to know all that he thought of it, but he had set the canvas aside, and the opportunity of asking his opinion without betraying her desire was gone. She said * Thank yon ’ quite graciously when he removed the last of her ‘ traps.’ * Not such a terrible undertaking, after all, is it V he asked, with a mischievous smile. 1 And now go away ; the dust will spoil that pretty dress, ’ {To he continued .)