She came nearer, nearer, till he
saw the glory of her eyes, the curve of her lip, and could count the
curling tresses on her brow. Then he came down from the height and
strode across the space between them.
She lifted up her eyes and saw him. For an instant the sadness cleared
out of them as the mists had cleared from the sky: her pathetic mouth
broke into a smile, and she held out both her hands. "Alick, dear Alick!
my good Alick!" she cried in a voice of exquisite tenderness.
"My queen!" he said kneeling, his honest upturned face wet with tears.
"Lost and now found!"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE ITALIAN MEDIAEVAL WOOD-SCULPTORS.
More or less during the whole of this century, and ever more during the
recent years of it, the love of art, especially in what have been called
the "industrial" manifestations of it, has been becoming a passion in
Germany and in France, as well as in England and America. Museums for
the collection and preservation of the works produced by the artists of
those centuries which were the palmy days of art have been established
in all these countries, and private amateurs have vied with them in
enriching their respective countries with specimens of all the many
kinds of art-industry which remain to us from those times when religion
encouraged and surrounded itself with the beautiful and the cultivation
of the beautiful was a religion. And it is mainly--indeed, almost
entirely--to Italy that the lovers and admirers of mediaeval art come in
search of those remains of it which, it is hoped, will be (or rather are
being) the means of producing a second art _renaissance_.
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