The Middlebury people's press. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1841-1843, 1842-11-29
MISCELLANEOUS.
THE UNKNOWN PORTRAIT.
BY MRS. NJ. v. SPENCER.
APT Err L.

BY MRS. NJ. v. SPENCER.
CHAPTER II.
"How beautiful 70 Involuntary exclaim
ed Edward Moreton, as he paused by a
portrait at the annual exhibition of the
1t was the portrait ofa young and beauti.
full girl, painted in style that was worthy
of the old masters. She could not have
been more than eighteen, for her face still
wore that expression of sunny girlish hap.
piness, which few years contact with the
world changes into more sedate, but not
perhaps less lovely expression. The artist
had handled his subject admirably, so that,
at first. the eye saw only the face of the
young girl, although on closer scrutiny
you noticed that she held rose to her DO.
som, and that the drapery. hands and other
m inutIa of the picture were deliheated with
surprising skill. But it was the face, after
ALL which rivited the attention. Beautiful
indeed was that countenanee--beautifu as
a dream of heaven. The eyes were large
and dark, and shone on you from the depths
of her pure soul with an expression of the
most winning softness. The hair was of
the darkest brown, modesrly curtained on
either side ofthe face, and apparently gath
cred up behind into Grecian knot. The
forehead was smooth and polished like mar.
BILE, and the chin and throat as delicately
chiselled as if a CaHova had modelled them.
The whole character of the face was that
of loveliness In its most winning FORM
Moreton stood, for minute entranced,
drinking in the beauty of that angelic face.
At length he turned to the catalogue, eager
to see to whom the poi trait belonged. The
artists name was a new one, but the picture
was for sale. Again Moreton turned to the
portrait, and gazed on that bewitching face.
Strange emotions took possession fhis soul
as he looked. Was he in love, with pOr.
trait! Whatever was the character Of his
feelings, an ungovernable curiosity to learn
who the original might be took possession
of him, and he determined to see the artist,
and learn something of this beautiful I'M
known. But when he applied to the door
keeper to ascertain the artists residence, he
was informed that the painter had gone to
Europe since the completion of the portrait.
and that no one could tell who had been the
original.
"There has been general enquiry" said
the door-keeper, "but no one knows. The
artist was always reserved man, and lived
in New York. He took great care with
this picture rather think it's altogether
an ideal face"
Disappointed in his enquiries, Moreton
was about turning away when he recollec-
ted that the picture was for sale, and resol-
wing to possess himself of it, whether the
portrait was an ideal or a real one, he soon
agreed for the price.
"The picture will be sent home" said the
door. keeper, "as soon as the exhibition
closes. | congratulate you on having be-
come the owner of the finest piece this year
on the walls"
1t was strange what an ungovernable pas
sion for that picture took possession of
Moretonl Daily he visited the exhibition
and spent hours before the portrait, gazing
on it as worshipper gazes on the face ola
saint. To his eye, indeed, that counten-
ance was the impersonation Of all loneliness,
and he never tired of looking on the smooth
pearly cheek, on the white and classic fore
head, on the bold sweep of the pencllled
brows, and on those dark deep eyes so full
of all the finest and hottest susceptibllities
of women. Awake or in his dreams that
face was before him. Often, when far
away. he would shut his eyes TO call up to
his imagination more forcibly that glorious
countenance and then would he dream,
in many a wild reverie, Of the possibility of
meeting, at some future day, the living
counterpart to his face. And when, at
length, the picture came home, he would SIT
for hours, all unconscious Of what was GO
ing on around him, gazing ON the portrait.
He seemed to live for nothing else. In that
picture he saw expressed the ideal beauty
for which he had thirsted from boy; and
he secretly determined that he would dis
cover the original, if indeed one there was,
or die worshpping shadow. But all his
efforts were unavaiing. The artist had d.
ed soon after reaching Europe, and the let
ter of inquiry which Moreton had sent was
returned unopened. No one Of his acquaint'
nnce had ever seen face bearing tine slight
est remittance Of the portrait. Moreton's
friends, at length, began to regard him as
suffering under a monomania on this point,
and his pcrsevering enquiries met thereafter
only plying shake Of the head or con-
temptuous laugh.
HAPTER II.
In one Of our eastern cities, on cold and
snowy winter night, little group might
have been seen gathered around the flicker
ing embers of fire, in crazy tenement
on the outskirts of the town. A somewhat
aged lady, and boy about ten years old.
sat in front of the chimney-place. The
third individual was young girl, who
might have numbered twenty years: She
sat on stool, on one side of the fire, hold
a piece of needle-work close to the dying
embers, as if she was endeavoring to sew
by their feeble light. The face OF that
young girl was one Of extraordinary beauty:
The eyes were dark and full the brow had
the whiteness of Parlan marble; and the
thick brown tresses were modestly curtain
ed down either side of her face and gather
I'D in knot behind. Tier attire, though