The Argosy — page 242: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“ Her Francts.”’ 225 ‘to. Helen Keith (a handsome, clever woman, in every way a contrast to pretty little inexperienced Mabel), in one succession of “ gushes” over every picture and statue, piece of tapestry and mosaic, the Cathe- dral and Giotto’s Tower, the Baptistry and the wonderful gates which Michael Angelo pronounced fit to be the gates of Paradise; Fra Angelico’s angels and the Lucca della Robbia, &c. So full of delight and excitement was she that for some days she forgot both her whim- sical dream and her fears. Under Helen Keith’s guidance she was made to “do” Florence thoroughly. Helen had her own opinions about most things, which she expected Mabel to accept ; and Mabel, - not being given to original thought, was nothing loth to be helped over this her first stile into the domains of art. One morning, however, Helen took her to Giotto’s little chapel in the church of Santa Croce, and, giving her Ruskin’s little pamphlet, let her puzzle the matter out for herself. Very puzzled did Mabel feel, as she leant against the wall opposite the fresco which depicts the trial by fire before the Soldan, and read out a sentence here and there. She was quite deep in thought when she heard spoken, very quietly, in English : ‘What a pretty voice !” “ And a still prettier face! What brown eyes and golden hair!” said another voice. : At that moment two gentlemen, presumably the speakers, descended the steps of the chapel behind her, and walked down the nave. They passed close to her, and, as they did so, Mabel made a sudden dart forward. Enveloping one of the two, a very tall man, was ¢/e ulster ; she would have known it again anywhere! II, As Mabel started forward, Helen sprang after her. ‘‘ Mabel!” she cried, aghast, ‘‘do you want to show the pretty face?” ““My face!” and Mabel looked at her in amazement. “No; I want to see his.” It was now Helen’s turn to look amazed, the more so that Mabel suddenly coloured violently all over that pretty face so little in her thoughts, and turning sharply away stared blindly at a medallion of St. Louis through a rush of tears, which had quickly come into her eyes. Whether she was most vexed with herself, or mortified by her friend, or disappointed in her desire, she could not possibly have told. “TI don’t understand, Mabel,” said Helen, very gently. “You cannot know those men, or they would not have spoken so of you?” Mabel made the worst answer she could have chosen. “No, I don’t know them. I only know the ulster that one of them wore.” “ His ulster!” cried Helen Keith, laughing and wondering whether Mabel was losing her senses. COmicoooks.GO