Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1867-02-20

ing out to him her left hand. As lay there
in, l felt the golden wedding-ring press
against my smooth ivory.
Norman put down his brush and came
smiling to his young wife's side.
What do you keep that still? Why,
Jean, what boyish job it is The features
nearly approach Queen Elizabeth's beau
ideal of art, as she commanded her own
portrait to be drawn; tits one broad light
without IA single shadow And look how
ill-drawn are the shoulders, and what an
enormous, awkward string of pearls
Jean snatched inc up and kissed me.
:. You shall not, Norman-I will hear no
blame of the poor miniature. [ love it, |
tell you-and you love it, too. All ,
there" And she held me playfully to my
makers lips, which now | touched not for
the first time as he knew we'll when
we grow rich, it shall be set in gold and
garnets, and | will wear it every time my
husband ceases to remember the DAYS when
he first taught me to love him, and in low
ING him to love all that was noble in man."
And then Norman- But | do
not see that have any business to reveal
further
| did attain the honor of gold and garnet,
and, formed into bracelet, | figured many
IA time on the arm of j can Bethune, who,
when people tested with her for the eccen-
tricity of wearing her own likeness, only
laughed and said that she did indeed love
the self that her husband loved, for his sake
So years went by, until tairer things than
bracelets adorned the arms of the painter ;
wife, and She came TO see her own likeness
III dearer types than my poor ivory. 50
her ornaments-mysclf among the rest
were slowly put by; and at last | used to
1 lie for months untouched, save by tiny ba-
by fingers, which now and then poked the
casket to see mamma picture"
At length there came a change III my des-
tiny 1t was worked by one OF those grand
est of revolutionists-a young lady entering
her teens.
Mamma, what is the use Of that ugly
bracelet" ?" | heard one day. Give me
the miniature to have made into Il brooch
am Sxteen-quite old enough to wear one
and it will be so nice to have the likeness of
my own mamma.
Mrs Bethune could refuse nothing to her
eldest daughter-her hope-her comfort
her sisterlike companion. SO with many
an anxious charge concerning me. was dis
patched to the jewellers. hate to be
touched by strangers, and during the whole
time OF my >ojourn at the jewellers | shut
up my power of observation in dormouse
like doze, from which | was only awakened
by the eager fingers of Miss Anne Beth
une, who had rushed with me into the paint
inc room. calling on papa and mamma tc
admire an old friend in new face.
=. Is that the dear old miniature said
the artist
The husband and wife looked at me, ther
at one another, and smiled Though both
now glided into middle age. Yet in that at,
fectonatc smile [ saw review the face OF
Norman Bcthunc and Lady Jean.
- do believe there Is something tails
maine in the portrait, said young Anne
their daughter To-day, at the jewelers.
! was stopped by diSagreeable old gentle
man, who stared at me and then at the min
iature and finally questioned me about my
name andparents, until was fairly wearied
of his mpertinenc.- \ contemplate, ma
licious-cyed creature he looked; but the
iewellcr paid him all attention, since, a.
afterwards learnt. he was Sir Anthony
A--. who succeeded to all the estates
of hi, cousin, the earl Of.
Mrs Bethune put me down on the table
and leaned her head on her hand perhaps
some memories of her youth came over her
on hearing those long-silent names. Hen
+, husband glanced at her with restless doubt
some men will be jealous over the light
est thought of one they love. But Jean
put her arm in his. with a look so serene
so clear, that he stopped down and kisseo
her vet scarce faded cheek.
60. my own wite-go and tell oui
daughter all
Jean Bethunc and her child went out TO
eether and when they returned. there Wa
proud glow on Annc's cheek-she looket
80 like her mother. or rather like me. Sh,
walked down the studio; il was a larg
room where hung pictures that might wei
make me fear to claim brotherhood witt
them. though the same hand created then
and me- Anne turned her radiant eye
from one to another, then went up to tn
artist and embraced him.
Father. had rather be your daughte
than share the honors Of all the Doug
lasses"
Anne Bethune Wore me, year after year
, until the fashion of me went by, till he
young daughters, in their turn, began t
, laugh at my ancient setting. and-alway
: aSide-to mock at the rude art of grand
mammals" days But this was never il
grandmamma' presence, where still toun'
= myself at times and my pale eyes behel'
the face of which my own had been a mer
shadow-but of which the shadow was nov
t left as the only memorial.
, And was this indeed you, grandmam
ma " many eager voice would ash
' when my poor self was called into question
- Were you ever this young girl; and di
0 you really wear these beautiful pearls, an
live in a castle, and hear yourself called tn
; Lady Jean?'"
f And grandmamma would lay down he
spectacles and look pensively out with he
calm beautiful eyes Oh how doubl
i beautiful they seemed in old age, when a
+ other loveliness had gone. Then sh
would gather her little flock around he
:. and tell, for the hundreth time, the stor
: of herself and Norman Bethune-lear
e ing gently, as with her parent-feeling
e she had now learnt to do, on the wrong
t received from her own father, and lingel
f ing with ineffable tenderness on the nobl
+ nature of him who had won her heart, MOI
h through that than even by the facination {