Hillsdale Whig standard. (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1846-1851, 1850-11-12


her existence is meaningless, and she no rue
woman. Believe me, there are lines and fec
lures IN thar face, which, If rightly traced
betoken better future. In'this manner il ig
incomplete
Sumner gazod on the noble boy With q
mazemen', Tor as he poured fourth these rap
i'd words, bis eye burned with strange brill
lance, and the whole frame seemed shaken
With powerful emotion which he was too
proud TO conceal. A new but underlined
thought eaped into life within the artists
mind, and he ionged for solitude to ansIyzs
IL. He spoke in general terms. quite differ
ent from his impassioned manner out mo
\ ment before
III is true. and grievous wrong may have
been done through ignorance. But this was
not my meaning This is. indeed, a portrait
OF real model, and may say, correct in
general, but still there is something in the
original know not what-that is not berx
| have tasked my memory in vain; that 9th
| erwise faithful representation lacks some hid
den property ofthe original Perhaps longer
thought will enable me 10 roach H.
He seized his nat and departed, leaving
his pupil in the same attitude, but nos with
blush upon his cheeks, and softly rnurmur
ing TO himself
'He suspects but does not know. Ah how
rash and hasty those forward words that
came before thought Of prudence. Will
he now think the less OF mel know not
IL matters not, for all Is done. Something in
complete. could have told hm-I will tell
him now, before go, never tornter this stu
do again. First away with this Disguise
A little water removed The Moorish hue
from that arch and tempting face; ely
twltch, and the dropping moustache fell from
the corners Of her mouth. now drawn up in
full beauty Rose NOntrose stood before her
less lovely image. Those slender fingers
seized the brush und traced fairy wreath
OF wild flowers, such as the artist drew, all
faded and dead, from her bosom. One hand
OF the portrait clas ped tightly single glove,
and the other seemed passionatey buried in
tn flowers. And then, with a glance. part
OF merry pride, part Of anxious fear, upou her
work, Rose withdrew.
The next morning. Leonard Sumner en-
tered his studio with determination TO solve
the mystery which his young pupil had
thrown around him A single step within,
single glance at the portr it, and the whole
truth rushed upon his mind with oearness,
even bew'idering in lis simplicity. He hs>
tened to Mr. Nevers' house without delay.
She was sitting alone as one might who
knew that her lover was near. he walked
straight forward, and seating himself by her
side, said softly
Dear Rose. may repeat my last words at
our last meetiHg--your handp
'Oh! forgive the pastn she exclaimed look
ing up with fearful energy and forget my
folly, my madness. Believe me, that knew
bot what said, that feared to say what
telt, that ! was weak, fooish--anythng but
earnest and heortless Remember that no
rue light had ever shone upon me; that had
lad lived oaly in the world and was all world
y. | see my failings; know that in what
constitutes the noblest part ofhuman charac-
er | was incomplete The frame Of my
leart was unfinished.
But there is nothing incomplete at this
moment. When you stood before that por-
ralt and hurriedly unveiled q heart Of whose
ichness had been ignorant. saw at once
where was my mistake. and indeed. my
weet pupil, half fancied that the earnest
we'd Spanish boy knew more OF Ross Mont
ose than did even her lover. An, Rose, be
oId the glove you gave n.o oooe, and would
rant me nothing more
And this is the hand that should have sc-
ompanied that glove said the bluShing girl,
ranky placing it within his own.
Here Sumner would always stop and OBJ
tlnately refuse 10 relate word farther.---.
Iut he often affirmed that he had no fear Of
Rose Summers rCer playing the cOQuctte Ia
AZURE.