Cooper's Clarksburg register. [volume] (Clarksburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1851-1861, 1857-08-07

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out of her large blue eyes. q
/, There was NO great force of character:
in her face, it is true. You felti t-was not
ohelto meetucalm1y. detiantly,I theIgreat
trial l5hoursso of life, but it was sweet. ;wo>,
manly, and oh, Sc, very soroYiul! The,
boy, of some five summers, was not like
his mother. The tone of his face, from
the broad forehead to his small full mouth.
was stronger ana deeper. Even his large
hazel eyes and.brown hair were of his fav
.ther's:- az .bioliiL
4 And then think Of the husband iandlfa
-ther, with hisasensitiye, athletic mature.
and his proud; high spirit reduced to thisl
oh, Lucius Brante, it might have been
weakness and SIM. but it was hardly,
strange that you had gone out from the
old chamber that day, with these words
in your heart, q Success or suicide !''
The boy drew closer to his mother and
put her arms tenderly about him, buth he
did not speak for fear the tears would
come. With all his rare gifts. thefar
father had never painted so touching a
picture.
Another hour went by, and there was
the quick ring of feet on the old staircase,
and something in the sound which gave
a new spring of hope to the hearts that
beat low by the dying ashes. The door
burst open. and Lucius Brante rushed
wildly in and threw heavy purse into
his wife's lap. Was the man mad =! For
he clasped her and the frightened child
one moment in his arms and threw them
up, triumphantly laughing and shouting g
while the tears ran down his proud face
as they would down the face of little
child.
"What does it mean, Lucius Speak
to me ~ gasped the young wife. shaking
from head to foot:
I have saved you, Helen Newell !
Thank God-thank God! Oh, it seems
TO me as il. l must be dreaming, as if this
great. sudden good could not be true !"
And who was it bought them, Luci>
us % asked the wife through her glad
tears.
The mans name blessings on it y
was Watkins. He boug ght four Of my pic.
lures, selecting them from all the others
in the collection. and paid me two, hum
dred and fifty dollars apiece! He was q
plain, ;ordiuary looking sort of o man too,
apparently not much Of connoisseur in
paintings either. But could have fall
en- down at his feet and worshipped him"
Papa. papa, did you bring me the
cake ?'"-and the soft check Of the child
was pressed up TO his father's. -
No dear" gathering him to bis heart,
"but will get you a dozen now and
Newell and mamma shall never be huns
cry again. We will have a fire, and such
God has sent His angel when the dark.
ness was deepest. Let us thank him :"
and they knelt down there, on the old
hearth bricks, in the gathering night
darkness, and the prayer of the artist
seemed heart hallelujah that must have
reached up through the song Of seraph
and archangel to the Death White Throne?
"Well, Watkins, my good man. did you
get the pictures ?"
Alice Reade asked the question with
breathless eagerness, as she met the SER
want at the door.
" Yes, ma'am. Here they are, safe and
sound, four of 'em." said the man, bust
ling mysteriously into the apartment, and
depositing the large package on the table
for Watkins was an especial favoritc
with boil, his master and mistress.
"And did you see the artist 2"
Yes, ma'am, and paid the thousand
dollars into his own hands. He seemed
struck dumb with astonishment. He's
had some hard tussel with life, 1 think.
Somehow it did me good to pay down the
money" added the shrewd but kind
hearted man.
You remember my charge And
he thought they were purchased for your
self %
in ccur.e he did. could have got
'em for twentieth part of the money.
but you said he was to have it all, and SO
l set my own price. Will you have 'cm
hung in the ,p4rlor Pr. 90
No; l will take care OF them. Not
even Mr.. Reade must know that l have
purchased them. You understand ?"
There was a significant answer in the
mans face as he bowed out Of the room
Alice's cunt was dying.
"Alice. Alice. come nearer to- me y
said the dying woman. and she drew
down her niece's head almost to her lips.
Alice Reade's face grew white as the
death stricken one beneath it; while the
struggling di,jointed sentences came over
Mrs. Henley's lips.
I" That letter !-you remember? Luz
cius Brante did not write it. He knew