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ft terms,s3 per axxiwi ix ahvance. second year, no. a whole no. h. a smrnm mwm nwm .mwm to umm t m am mb ssimk, mi to smjbml wm&wwm. r__ _'” r j.-'i'.i; vL ~a!) For Richard*’ Weekly Gazette. THOUGHTS AT SUNSET. fcY CAROLINE HOWARD. Tall Poplar trees, slight, waving Poplar trees, That yielding bend before this evening breeze, Commune with me ; As by my casement thoughtful here I gaze, Watching the sinking sun’s divergent rays, Before they flee. Oh! ye green trees, that calm and constant stand, By the rude cast or balmy west wind fanned, In patience still; Lean with your pale and rustling silver leaves O’er the deep quiet of these sun lit eaves, My thoughts to fill. gentle friends, whom sun-fight makes so fair, 1 learn from you tin* lessons bard —to bear And to forbear; For when the storm-god scatters your young stems, And rifles from your pliant boughs their gems, What is your care 1 You m • kly yield your choicest treasures up, And smiling, taste and drink the proffered cup, Whatc’er it be; While singing still your breeze-touched,grateful song, Yuu bless the hand, which others might deem wrong: And so teach me. l opceor in your simile may I tliu* dwell— Forever may your plaintive, touching knell Knock at my heart; To upward, onward aims, may I aspire, Aii-l of the promised Ileaveu may 1 desire To share a part. dli, trees, whose bending branches fan my check, In whose soft murmurs sympathy I seek, Guide me aright; Plead for mo always with your notes of love, That 1, like you, may rise towards realms above, Whore all is Light. if am AyjiiAj'j sAii. OTTO SECOND PRIZE TALK. For Richards’ Weekly Gazette. THE NEW ARIAi A TALE OF TRIAL AND TRUST. J!Y J. M. LEGARE. CHAPTER THIRD. [ t was in everybody’s mouth—the choicest subject of scandal for a week. “So he has gone to the dogs, at last!’’ one ac quaintance would say to another in the j street. “ Well, I always said he was liv ing too fast.” “Could you expect anything else?”—i the other would probably reply. “ Why, the income of a King could not have en dured it! I understand he used gold spoons instead of silver—think of that, sir! and every one of them engraved with his arms 1 —confound his aristocratical impudence 1” | But in the drawing-rooms, and during morning visits it was that the ruin was j most minutely discussed: everyone had! something to relate of her forebodings on the subject for more than a month previous, j or of what her own eyes had witnessed. ‘•The sale of the house and furniture ■will continue three days longer, I under- j stand ; have you been to the auction yet, ■ Mrs. Maurice ?” “ Yes, and what a display of luxury ! j Why I never dreamed they lived so mag nificently, extravagant as I knew they ‘verc!” “ Well—pride must have a fall, you know : and 1 hope I'm Christian enough to be glad they’ll experience some mortifica tion of the flesh here, to fit them foranoth er world. 1 always knew what her finery and carriages would bring her to!” ‘•She's humbledenough now, poorthing, 1 fancy. Why, would you believe, even her new velvet and silk dresses were dis posed of privately’, I bought one myself at a third of it's real value. My husband never should have made me part with my wardrobe, if I cried my eyes out. I won der how she will feel appearing in the street or at church in a common calico or delaine!” “ Don’t tell me about her husband !” —a third would join in—“he must be a mon ster in human shape, not to keep back from the sale a score of fancy articles I could name which must have become necessities rather than luxuries to his wife. Howev er I ought not to complain for I have got a complete set ot pearls which caught my eye at the jeweler’s six months ago, hut which I never could have afforded, had she not bought them first.’’ “The most singular part of the whole affair”—cried another —“ is. that I cannot learn he owes a cent to any one. I can't make it out! you know I am fond of in vestigating these matter to the very bottom: it aids one in rightly appreciating the vanity of all human endeavors, besides giving a more extensive view of the ele ments of which society is really composed. Well, I no sooner saw the sale and assign ment of his plantation interest to trustees announced in the papers, than down 1 went to ascertain from the merchants anil shop people themselves, the amount of his indebtedness, but although I stood cheape ning this and that piece of goods, for, I don't know how long, in each of the stores they dealt at, and was as affable as pos sible, I could not learn that more than a chance dollar here and there was owed by my grand lord forsooth, it having been their custom to pay at the time of the per chase.” “ Bless me, madam!”—returns the first speaker—“if you had pushed your en quiries in the right quarter, you would have found no mystery in the matter. You all know young D’Ecourts who has just become of age, and is determined to see life, as he calls it. XX’ell he sometimes, merely lor amusement, steps into a—a — place of departed spirits—l mean where people gamble: and who do you suppose, he says, never failed to be there, as hard at work losing money as most men are making it, —but our ruined gentleman!— For my part, I can't imagine how he kept up an appearance of wealth as long as he did!” “Oh, if that was his character, the next step, I suppose, will be the bottle or some thing worse ; that is the way with such gentry. I wonder if the} - can afford even to keep a servant now. If I were his wife, I would sit all day with my hands in my lap, and not do a thing to make his pover ty-stricken home comfortable—a proper punishment for what he has brought about. Poor thing, I dare say by this time she is worn to a shadow by daily anxiety and mortification!” And was it so—had the heroic spirit given way, the excitement of the sacrifice once passed; and repining and reproaches become familiar demons at his hearth, whom recollection of his own folly and vice hindered him from resisting by word or look ? Let us see. Small enough was the house with its three rooms and little porch in front, and the chintz curtains in the windows, chintz covered couch and plain white ceilings, presenting a marked contrast to the silken hangings and gilded fretwork of their for mer home: but on the brick hearth, the , I fire burned more cheerfully than it had in the marble fire-place the sad night of the confession ; and so, in the young wife’s bosom did the old love blaze up brightly and warm all within its reach,regardlessof the humble objects in the midst of which it was rekindled. She had drawn a round table to the warmest corner, and herself set out upon it their simple tea service, and now sat listening for a hand upon the latch, with a face that would alone have put to shame the conjectures and gossip of her former acquaintance. Presently her hus band entered with a roll of canvass and book in his hand: the furrows between the brows were quite gone, and his whole manner and speech betokened revived hope. “Well Lu,” —he said, when he had taken the chair drawn close to her's. hotd ■ ing her little hand between his. “ I am quite ready to begin our work, and so will, to-morrow, God prosper the endeavor!” “ Yes”—she returned : “that He surely will. I am happy in the very thought, sweet husband, of being with you all the day, for while you paint, you know, I can read aloud, and then I shall feel as if 1 were helping you along.” “ Oh, take no credit to yourself for that —he rejoined with a smile: “it was for this very purpose I brought this book with me, and so I design to do as often as we require. And even if no purchasers for my paintings can be found, we will not regard the hours ill spent that kept us so happily together.” “ No, surely ! But you must not imagine you will find no purchasers—that would never do to begin with! I don't fancy you to be either a Raphael or Rembrant, but have not your paintings been admired beyond measure by those who are esteemed good judges ?” “Yes. while there was something to be gained by flattery, perhaps.” “ Well, we will see who is right. Do you paint and I will read, and only do your best, dear Harry, and I have no thought that we can quite fail.” And his best he did, not only on the | morrow, but on every succeeding day, less because his faith in himself was great, than to lighten the young heart that had aban doned all for his sake, and whose words had become to him as the voice of an angel. His heart was in his work, and what he | most needed, practice, he found hourly, and time flew swiftly by. Very few of their former friends sought their more humble roof, and half of those, probably merely to gratify curiosity; however, now they felt no need of friendship or of gossiping visit ors, for within a few weeks, the world of each had narrowed into the circle of their hearth, and plans for present and future afforded never wearying subjects of con versation. Except during occasional ram bles taken together, and passing to and from a neighboring church on Sundays, they seldom stirred abroad ; and—l do not know whether or not this is matter of won ! der—the less they mingled with the world, the happier they grew: it was not a selfish happiness either; for humbler and distant objects were within its scope. Os one I thing they were certain, it tvas peacegiving and even its cause, and in these features at least, very unlike the pleasures purchas ed by their wealth. Meanwhile the paint | ing rapidly advanced, as well it might, and in ten days time was quite finisbel ; then it was transferred to a store, duly furnish ed with title and price on a card attached, and with anxiety, each endeavored to con ceal from the other, our adventurers await ed the result. But alas, no purchasers j offered—and instead of money, came abun dant criticism. “ Who ever heard of trees being so blue or hills so purple ! —don’t tell me about distance ! You don’t sup pose you can convince me, sir, that a tree two miles from my house in the country, j is less green than the one at the foot of my ! steps!—all fudge, sir!” Such were the speeches retailed every evening to the painter by the shopman to ’ whom they had been spoken, and such were the words modified as much as truth ; would allow, lest he should [tain her, to which every night the young wife listened. : At last, sick at heart and discouraged, he caused the work to be brought home, an gry with himself that he had ever trusted in his own superior capacity ; sick at heart too, but still for his sake, outwardly as i corageous, and faithful as ever, his wife received him with consoling words. “He must not be distressed or mortified : what did it really matter? Did not his own wife thank him from the bottom of her heart, for even making the attempt and j should not that repay him ? answer now.” ; “Yes—yes!” How could he avoid reply- j ing in the affirmative, when she had nes-, tied so fondly to his breast 1 “Yes!” he re plied again kissing her upon the forehead. “And besides, fully a hundred dollars remained, which would go a long way with even less economy than they already exercised ; and long before that was gone, j some means of income would be found—of j that he must not doubt, indeed !” She had risen and remained before the painting, and now tried to regard it as she would have viewed the work of a stran ger’s hand, and so really perceive the de-1 met its: but this was a power over her heart of which she was not possessed, and in her partial eyes the work was faultless, and so, in the end, she exclaimed. In truth, the landscape, although one of less perfection than she so readily believed, was not deficient in beauty and worth; the de fects being far less than he had hinjself begun to believe, distrustful of his own powers as he was, and overborne by a few ill-considered criticisms. Os the latter she was convinced, and employed all her elo quence to dissipate his chagrin, and induce him to make another trial, recalling to his mind how hurriedly his pencil had passed over portions which had been found te dious, and suggesting that more patiently, and with less haste, this second attempt should be made, and then, if this too fail ed—well, let it be the last. It was practice, too, he most required; and why not daily spend a couple of hours in the gallery of paintings they had often, long ago, visited together: all the instruc tion needed to elevate his works above the level of mere aiiiateui artists, could surely be found there ; and, for the rest, that all j critics might be thereafter most completely ! dumb-founded, and that Nature might in I no degree be violated, what if he were to ) paint accurately tile lovely landscape visi- j ble from the foot of an avenue of oaks, be- j yond thA subuibs of the city, where they had so often wandered during their long 1 walks of late ? ft was well thought of. The easel was again set up, and in the afternoons the}- j went to continue the water-color sketch ! from, which the oil-landscape was growing j into existence. What a life of peace, of which he had never dreamed, was this; and yet, only a few days previous, had he mused darkly on his way homeward, j whether it were not better, now that he had made an endeavor anu failed, to draw a ; portion at least of his former income from the forbidden source, and at all events se cure her comfort who relied upon his suc cess for support even. “It would he so easy,” the tempter urged, “to allow her to believe the amounts obtained by a just though tardy appreciation of his merits; and in that case, he might paint as care lessly as he pleased, as there would be no necessity, but rather the reverse, of exhib iting his work. Besides, at the worst, it would only be a sale forced upon the real owner of the estate, as he could have the paintings laid away in safety and consider ed his property whose money had been taken as an equivalent, whenever he should appear in person--refraining each time from drawing more than the supposed value of the piece. Why hesitate ? it might be that no one beyond himself would ever know a breath of the transaction!” But when, before he had yet decided, he stood in the centre of his little world, and saw T the earnest trnsi ins wite’s evei v tout and tone expressed, he thanked God in his inmost soul, for having been permitted even to struggle against the evil counsel until that moment; and at the thought, the demon fled from his heart, for far less diffi cult was it now to drive the tempter out, than it had been of old. But a wish had for some days occupied the thoughts of the wife, which gradually took the form of a resolve. It had been customary with her to give freely to the poor, and now it pained her generous heart not a little to refuse alms when solicited. It was true, they possessed very little, but what hindered her from adding to the a mount; and if, instead of sitting idle du ring her husband s absence, she were to employ her fingers, how easy would it be to obtain sufficient to do a world of good, besides (perhaps) laying by a sum to meet incidental expenses, the disclosure of which, at some day of necessity, might remove a weight from Harry’s mind ; so, for the pre sent, he should remain ignorant of her new occupation. Busy hours now, were the two or three of his daily practice, and in a week a couple of delicately worked col lars were completed and folded neatly in paper, on their way to find a market. Here, unfortunately, at the very com mencement, she committed an error: it was not easy to overcome the ill-defined reluc tance she entertained to entering in so hum ble a capacity, the splendid fancy store w hich had been the theatre of most of her extravagance but a month or two previous, —and accordingly she determined to apply first to the mistress of a rival establishment across the street. Between these antago nists in trade, existed a bitter hatred, and recognizing in the fair applicant, at a glance, the fine lady who had spent hundreds over the way, the latter gratified her spite by declining even to look at the articles. Our heroine felt some indignation, as she could not but distinguish the true motive, and now regretted that she had not set aside her scruples and gone at once to the store at which she had expended a portion of her wealth; but there, too, disappointment awaited her. She remained silent, with her veil down, until a customer, one of her i ball-room acquaintances, by whom she did not care to be recognized, had been served, and then stated her errand ; but Madame ; La Tour, who had nothing to lose by of fending her former patroness, had seen her leaving the opposite store, and not choosing to be obliging when applied to in any mat ter after her rival, merely praised the work and returned it, remarking that it was ne cessary she should sell only genuine French articles to retain the custom of the fashion ble world;. probably they might be pur chased from her at some of the smaller stores. And so, with feelings very differ ent from those with which she had last is sued from the door, the applicant returned to the street, half resolving to abandon the design altogether. However, she would make one attempt more, and on the result of that rest her hopes. The shopwoman here was quite a stranger, and having no ulterior design to answer, readily purchas ed the collars at a sum fully equal to our heroine's expectations, and engaged seve ral others of like pattern. What a light heart she carried home with her! But a trial was approaching, which, trifling in its features, tested fully the moral courage so recently developed in her bosom. During her second visit, her well-pleased employer staled that a pair of magnificent library chairs had been purchased at some auction by one of her customers, who wished her own crest and initials substituted for those wrought upon the velvet back : could she do it I And suiting the action to the word, she withdrew a cloth, and disclosed what Lou ise had too truly foreboded while she spoke —a gift once given to Harry, embroidered by her own needle. She shrank from the undertaking a moment—no more —and then with a voice that faltered in spite of her struggle to appear calm, directed in what manner the velvet might be removed with out injury. And I verily believe, that more than once during the lonely hours at home, while she drew out silken shred af ter shred for a stranger's pleasure, which but a short year before she had so joyfully arranged, to win a pleasant word and look from her husband, tears dropped upon the work ; but if they did, nothing of them dreamed that husband; only the angel be held them, that stood invisibly beside her; for if there was not a holy angel in the room, why was her heart so full to overflow ing with grateful peace, while her eyes ran over with quiet tears'? All this while, the painting had been progressing, and at length the last touches were given, greatly to the satisfaction of both. Then it was carried forth for exhi bition, as the others had been, and Louise confidently predicted an immediate sale. But a day passed, and then another, and no one had offered to purchase, although all now acknowledged the accuracy of the sketch. On the third evening, however, our artist returned with a countenance that at once betrayed his success; and what success! It was strange to relate, but see, he had the full amount to show there was rto error: the purchaser had insisted upon paying a third more than the price de manded, and desired another painted to match. “ But who was this generous patron of art—one of their old acquaintances T ’ lie could not tell, for the money and or der had been received through the store keeper, who either could not or would not describe him with sufficient accuracy to be recognized. There was a little mystery in all this—whether designed or not, they could not determine, but certainly quite agreeable in its results: and with more cheerful hearts, they looked forward to the completion of the pre.-ent work. In the course of a month, this too was transferred to the usual placeand at Lu’s sugges tion, the first, somewhat re-touched, ac companied it; and now her anticipations were realized, for both were readily taken. But this time, their patron appeared. He was evidently a man of wealth, not ill looking, and somewhat passed the prime of life. He both praised and criticised : Harry’s labors, and learning, in the course of conversation, his daily habits, frequent ly, by apparent chance, encountered him in the gallery of paintings; and Harry, who at first shrank from all intercourse, daily found the conversation of the former more pleasing. What was unaccountable, however, was, that at moments, he could not resist the conviction that he had else where seen this prepossessing face or heard the voice—he could not he quite sure of which—and then a closer scrutiny would ; induce him to suppose his imaginat#m ra ther to blame than his memory. His wife, ; to whom he related this uncertain rccogni ’ lion, was all anxiety to see the stranger, | confiding in her woman’s wit to unravel the mystery, if any there were; but in i this she met a defeat, for when the former accepted her husband’s invitation, and sat opposite to her at the fireside, she at once determined in her own mind that the face, feature by feature, was one entirely un known. This was the first visit of Mr. Eubank, but not the last by a great many, | for, stating as a claim upon their indul j gence, the fact of his possessing few friends | in the city, and being glad of a quiet fire -1 side, reminding one of a distant home, while : compelled by business to delay his depar ture, by degrees he accustomed them to look for his coming with undisguised plea : sure. But although they saw him almost nightly, they learned little of his private history, for he evidently avoided all refer ence to his own affairs, and as carefully [refrained from -prying into those of his hosts by even casual enquiries. This was a slight whim to humor, and they were quite content to do so, although the itn pression still haunted Harry of a face seen elsewhere, hut when or how, he perplexed his brain without avail to recall. Six weeks had already elapsed since Mr. Eubank had become a frequent guest, when he announced his speedy return home, wherever that home was: but before going, made a proposal to Harry, the magnitude of which astonished the latter in no small degree. The proposition was introduced by this abrupt enquiry one day : “Can you paint figures, groups, as well as you can landscapes ?” Yes, better, he believed, for his taste was more decided in that branch of art. “Very well; then paint me a group— any hing. I wish to see for myself your skill, before placing any great work in your hands. Can you finish it in three days ?” “Yes. c-asilv.” When the sketch was completed, he ex pressed his satisfaction; and now came the offer: that Harry should undertake to paint a subject, the chief traits of which he had written out on paper, the figures, grouping, and, in fact, all details, to be drawn from the former's brain, guided only by what information he could bring togeth er. If he would commence this at once, that is, the designing, he would be entitled from that hour to a salary of five hundred per annum; there was no hurry, but there need be no delay. The painting would re quire from three to five years to perfect; he must bestow upon it the whole power of his mind, however, and the time might be protracted to ten years, for anything he cared. Well, was he content with the terms, or did he reject them? Reject them! No. Thus would the tempter be effectually excluded from his I breast, for now there would be no need of ! anxiety in the simple matter of mainte nance, and by the aid of his pencil in less er designs, he could even surround his no ble wife with a portion of the comfort she | had wo unhesitatingly resigned; and from that day, the grouping of the great picture | occupied a pre-eminent position in his j thoughts. First of all, he read all that j had been written on the subject, and much of that he found in Pliny; then he com menced arranging the figures in his brain and on paper, so as to produce the most ‘ harmonious effect, and finally the tab leaux stood dimly visible, “laid in” on the 1 broad canvass, like objects seen indistinct- ‘ ]y through a mist. But all this was not done once, but many times, for it is'notea- | sy to satisfy one’s self with the crude pro- ; ductions of the hand : and day by day pa- [ tience and perseverance, and pure love of j art, expanded like blossoms in spring-time, more and more fully, and made the very breath of life pleasanter to inhale. By degrees, these long hours of musing and abstraction from the world around, began j to leave upon his soul an impression of , gravity very different from austerity—mild and ennobling ;. and as the traces of former i criminality grew fainter, his thoughts turn ed with less bitterness to the past, and with more ot hope to the future. Yes, it was God’s doing: it was wonderful, how min ute circumstances, which at the time es caped his notice, were now recalled as ev idences of the guiding hand of a supreme and pitying Being. Even the occurrences he had once cursed his fate for bringing about, now appealed to his clearer vision unquestionable blessings : as, for instance, the strange and dangerous error committed in dating the fictitious will, since, but for tiiik, what could have turned him from the worship of his Plutus. to that of a truer Lord 1 But one thing troubled him : was God at all times present, at all times piti ful: if so, why had he been permitted to commit a robbery and almost a murder?— It was true, a Providence had checked his madness before the latter crime was perpe trated in more than intention —but why had even that been allowed; no good had arisen from it, which might not have been brought about by less harrowing means. Could it be that God’s supervision was cas ual not omnipresent ? But these doubts too disappeared before the earnest faith ol his wife: she believed with the sincerity of a heart from which truth had never de-, parted, that he was always, always , at j hand to hear the cry of the afflicted; and even when not invoked, was more merci ful than mortal mind can conceive, to his erring children. “ And for the rest,” she said, “ dear husband, let us not presume to question his ways, but trust —trust with our whole heart and soul, that all will re sult for good ; and surely so it will.” Meanwhile, month followed month in swift flight; a year passed, then two, a third, a portion of a fourth, and the great work was done. And here would be a fitting place to describe minutely the paint i ing which was the result of labor, mental and physical, extending over nearly four yeais, and in the production of which, the utmost ability of no mean mind was taxed: but in saying this much, I have given a reason sufficiently valid fur refraining; for how would it be possible to do justice in a few written words to a work of such pa tience and protracted toil. The mere out lines, however, can be given, and this is already half done, when the subject is stated— The Story of Aria and P.etis CiEcixNA, of Padua. The deck and prow of a Roman galley appeared in the foreground, beyond, the blue sea, as tranquil as a lake ; and upon the former a mixed group of centurions, soldiers and seamen—their countenances betraying both admiration and horror, while all eyes were fastened upon thattrue heart, Aria, who, from her blood-dabbled bosom, seemed to cry, with dying breath, to her lord : “C®cinna, dear love—it hurts not, dearest Ciccinna!” that he, too, while there was yet time, and none regarded him, might free himself from the ignomi nious doom, towards which smooth seas and favoring winds bore him swiftly. A fortnight had elapsed since the completion of the work, and onr hero and heroine were in daily expectation of the arrival of Mr. Eubank, to whom they had written. At last he came, and unconcealed was his satisfaction : the painting surpassed his hopes, and was worth far more than the amount drawn quarterly by his young friend. It only remained to provide a suitable frame, and for this purpose the spacious canvass was removed. When fairly gone, the two began to feel a gap in their family circle, as it were; the story had taken a hold nppn their hearts, of which, until this moment, tiiay Luff been ignorant, although each had secretly re cognized in the design a mysterious illus tration of their own past lives. This dis covery had only been made within the last !ycar; and the more it was weighed, the , more wonderful did it appear that the inti- I mate connection, however accidental, had 1 not before occurred to their minds ! Yes, j there were the treacherous waters and : pleasant breeze, by which he was carried nearer and nearer to an ignominious end ; and there the true wife, who feared not to wound her own heart and abandon all, that he might be freed ! Oh, the gentle, faith ful soul—faithful even unto death ! CHAPTER FOURTH. One evening, while they sat at tea, a note was brought to Harry, who, upon reading the few words contained, became deadly pale, crumpled the paper in his hand, and, after a delay of a few minutes in the adjoining charnber, passed out into the street. Our Nferoine was somewhat disturbed by his hurried and anxious man ner, but, sure of being informed of the cause on his return, endeavored to divert her thoughts from what would only cause inquietude. But, when hour after hour elapsed, and midnight was close at hand, she could no longer strive against her un easiness with the first success; and, laying aside both work and book, with each of which, in turn, she had endeavore 1 to oc cupy her attention, listened with beating heart to every foot on the paved side-walk, which, at longer and longer intervals, dis turbed the silence of night: hut none halt ed at the gale —all passed on ; and their reverberations, dying away in the distance, left her to her lonely watch, and to await the coming of another. “Oh that she had been more prompt in action—that she had begged to see the note, which was surely the cause of his absence! He never would have refused, had she only asked it. And then hisconn tenance in ijoing out —so pale, so unlike that of her husband of late years, but near ly resembling the face she recalled the morning succeeding the confession. And now that she thought of it, this was the anniversary—the fourth —of that dread 1 night. Could he again have fallen ? No: no; no!” She almost hated herself for the suggestion, although it had not tarried an instant. At last, footsteps halted at the door; she flew to turn the lock, and the next in stant was resting upon his breast, murmur ing only, “Dearhusband —dear, dear hus band !” He led her in by the fire, and they sat down, her eyes eagerly reading his coun tenance, turned, as it was, full towards the light. Yes, it was the anniversary of that fearful night; but how different, noir, the face upon which she looked ! Joy, sub dued but unmistakable, was visible in eve ry feature, and with it mingled pride—not the old scornful pride, but such as angels may not disclaim—when his eyes at last met her gaze. And this was the substance of the strange tale he narrated