The Westerly echo, & Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1854-1858, 1856-11-06
WHOLE NUMBER 287

O. 'Ob, Mr.. Percival,' sobbed Blanca
= don't be angry with me, for l love yo'
} very, very dearly, but have just heart
something against you that makes me
feel so badly / must tell you, even II
you mever love me again. and with q
tremulous voice, she repeated the con-
versation she had overheard.
Mr.. Percival made no reply. He
rose and paced up and down the gravel.
led path, while Blanca dared not look
up. At length she faltered-
'Oh, Mr.. Percival. don't be angry
with me /! For when l heard them say
that perhaps some one could save you,
| thought, am only little girl, but I
will try. Perhaps it was wrong, but It
was becaus, l loved you so much
Won't you please to love me again.
He lifted her from the ground and
pressed her to his heart.
MY darling child,' be whispered,
what they said of me is too true but
here l solemnly vow, in the sight of
God, that with His aid it shall DO so no
longer. 1 am not utterly lost. God
bless you for recalling me to myself"
He kissed her again and again, then
rapidly walked out Of tho garden.
Several weeks had elapsed, and Mr..
Percival had not again been at Mrs.
Bartoll's. Blanca was almost in des-
ali, when at last he called With the re-
qu,s St that the child might Nt to him for
a picture which he was gci,g to place
in the exhibition. ..
Mrs Bartoll consented, and tho hap.
py child went day after day to the
studio, never complaining of fatigue,
though at times obliged to sit silent for
hours. AT last the picture was complet-
ed. 1t was called the Orphans Re-
verie,' and represented Blanca as she
sat in the garden, where, lost in thought,
he had found her when she bravely told
him of his danger.
1t was quiet, simple picture, and In
he exhibition, surrounded by MANY
'tbers of more pretensions, 1t was apt to
20 overlooked.
One day as Percival was walking
hrough the rooms, he saw a gentleman
standing before it gazing at it attentively;
jr long time he remained as If totally
bsorbed in the contemplation Of the
'icture, and Percival drew near him,
or such close examination and evident
dmiration was quite fattering to his
rtist pride.
Can you tell me- asked the stranger
With strong foreign accent, whore I
ian 6ud the artist who painted this p
He stands before you,' said the
7oung man with bow.
And is it fancy sketch p
No, sir; it is portrait
And where can I find the original
Can you tell me her name |"
Mr.. Percival hesitated, and looked
surprised. The stranger observed il.
You are astonishcd,' he said, nor
is it strange that you should be; but it
is not mere curiosity which induces me
to inquire so strictly. / am an Italian.
Nv daughter married an American ar
list. 1t was against my will. She died,
eaving one child. Her father returned
With her to this country, and too late
epenting of my hardness to the mother,
have come here for the purpose Of
ndng the husband and my grandchild.
have lost since then my only son, and
am lonely old man with but one OBJ
ct in life, the finding my daughters
lid. 1 have advertised her and sought
,r for months in vain I; coming in hero
: accident, I observed this picture,
hich bore so surprising a resemblance
my daughter, that il chained me to
e spot 1t was q mere fancy perhaps,
1t despair catches at straws, and | felt
at | must find out something more Of
70 picture r.
1T is strange, indeed, returned the
'tist, 'yet / cannot but think it is the
)rtrait of the child whom you are seek
q. Her name is Blanca Everett
: NV God, I thank thee, exclaimed
e stronger. 1T is she. Can you
n me where to find her''
He gave his card to Percivsl, whs
anced at IL and replied,