The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1871-03-02

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age on the table, for Watkins was an
especial favorite with both master
and mistress.
And did you see the artist?" s
F'Y es, ma'an, and paid the thousand
dollars into his hands. Hes had some
tussels with lifeI reckon. Somehow
it did me good to plank down the
money" added the shrewd, but kind
hearted man servant. -.'@
"And you remembered my charge?
And he thought they We're purchased
for yourself:"
sin course he did. l could have
got them for twentieth pa t of the
money, but you said he was to have
it all and so set my own price,
VIII you have 'ein hung up in the par
Ior ?"
NO. I will take care of them
Not even Mr.. Reade must know have
purchased them. You understand,
Watkins Z" .....,
There was significant answer in
the mans face as he bowed him
self out of the room.
Alice's aunt was dying.
"Aiice, Alice, come nearer to me"
said the dying woman, and she drew
down her Cousins head almost to her
lips.
Alice Reade's face grew white as
the death striken one beneath it,
while the struggling, Idisjoined SEN
tences came over Mrs. Henley's lips.
''That letter-you remember? Lu-
cius brante did not write it. He was
not false to you. wrote it, that you
might marry -"a a sudden convul-
sion left her speechless. buthe dy-
ing eyes prayed .'Forgive me ~
This last year had made Alice
Reade a better woman, and her white
lips answered the question of those
dim eyes with solemn earnestness.
''May God forgive you, aunt Jane,
freely as l do" and taking that for
giveness with it, the soul of Jane
Henly went outof that gorgeous death
cham Der to its God. 1lgr -
Five years had passed. The Flor
ence sunset looked serenely into the
studio of the artist, and the light Flor
ence winds moved up from the val
leys, where they had lain bound all
day among the tall grass and rich
crimson blooms. s.It is very beauti-
full" said the lady, breaking the long
silence which had followed a longer
conversation, as she turned her deep
eyes from the purple clouds to her
companions face. -e -..,r 80
"Yes, Alice, very beautiful. Do
you remember how we used to watch
them at the kitchen window Of the
old yellow brown homestead, ten
years ago?" -.,.at -. ,.,a,.
The beautiful eyes filled with tears.
There was another long pause.
ut is very strange l met you among
the mountains last week, neither
knowing that the other.was widow ed;
neither dreaming that the heart of
each was true to its first love!"T
"You will forgive Aunt Jane, Lu-
cius? She toned me, and it was her
ambition instigated the falsehood.n
The lady's tone was very earnest.
"Certainly, Alice. God has reach
ed to me SO many blessings, that there
is only room for gratitude in my soul.
Look there, it was just as I saw them
when l broke into the chamber that
night, when the turning point of my
career came, and have walked on to
and fame ever SINCE,
Idcids Brante drew aside the COW
ering, and the sunset poured all over
the painting like sudden baptism
from heaven. ..s.s.-r.<
1t would have brought the tears in
to your eyes with the first glance. A
mother and her child sat together ov-
er heap of smouldering ashes.
Both were very beautiful, bat there
was mingling of dependency, and
tenderness in the mothers face-a
look of patient waiting in the boys
dark eyes, which oyerreaches all de-
scription.
''God must have sent His angel to
that mans heart, or he never would
have bought my pictures. 1 always
believe it, Alice" -li5 90
And the artists soul glowed in his
proud face as he turned to his COM
panion.
Their eyes met in moment. Luz
cius Brante had read them many times
before. 1t was hardly strange that he
now translated the thought which the
lips beneath them would not for
worlds have uttered. l5.
'.Alice, you had something to do
with those pictures!"
Her tears answ cred him. An hour
later he had drawn all from her-an
hour later he knew she was the earth
ly Saviour of himself, his wife and
his child! ai
1t was one of LIES consecrated
hours. | cannot look into it'll, ssf
But the next week, Newell Brante
the brown haired child of the artist
bought many flowers of the country
children who brought many wild ros- 4
es from the fields about Florence, say
ing, with his fathers smile, 'sI shall |
have new mother to-night!'