Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1873-08-22
GIN Interesting Story,
PAINTED FROM MEMORY.

When | was younger in my profes-
sion than | am now, Dresden was my
fayorite holiday resort. In the quiet
and slow flowing life-current of that
old world home of the fine arts, / fire.
quently sought and found relaxation
from the strain of work-a-day months
in London.
One January night found me seated
cold, trayeled-stained and weary
in the train at Hamburg, en- route for
my old resort. Experience had taught
me that in Germany, fellow traveller
implies an instantaneous deprivation
of the quantum of fresh air necessary
to keep the lungs in play. So, calling
the guard, / requested that I might be
secure from intrusion. Touching his
cap with a laconic 'sgut," he pocketed
adouceur and locked me in. The train
started. For few moments we stop
at wayside station. I consulted my
watch. How cold it grows as the day
draws his last shivering BREATH
Strange at this hour the springs of be.
ing are at their lowest in all that lives,
whilst, in mystic sympathy with the
dying day, life is split out of those in
whose cup are only its lees. / wrap
my cloak around me.
Once more we were on the point OF
starting, when the door I imagined Sc
curely locked, was gently and easily
opened. A lady entered and seated
herself opposite me. Below my breath
I confounded the guard for a false
Deutscher, and reflected how extraor-
dinary it was that the intruder should
be woman; for abroad the fair sex
have special travelling compartments,
where no man dare put in an appear
ance and vice versa. In the confusion
Ofstar ting she had doubtless mistaken
her carriage, and now, perhaps, felt un-
comfortable.
AS the cold each moment increased,
/ offered her one of my warm wraps,
addressing few conventional words to
zer on the topic Of the weather.
.Thank you," she said, in quiet and
perfectly self-possessed voice, "but in
deed I do not feel the cold you speak
Of" A story is often told in the tone
of a voice-and the tone of this one
was peculiar. Enthusiastically nglish,
and well-bred; but there was no ring
in it, only certain hopelessness sufffi-
GENTLY pathetic. She had evidently
noticed some of my smaller profession
al belongings in the netting above me,
for, as | silently pondered what man.
ner of woman she was, she thus ad-
dressed me:
'You are an artist?"
"I am."
"Could you paint a portrait from
memory?"
"Most certainly"
She removed the thick veil that con-
cealed her face, and laid aside her bon
net. The light from the lamp fell full
on her. She had lovely face, but it
was cold and white and still as chisel-
ed marble. She encountered the bold,
steady gaze of masculine eyes, yet no
tinge of color fickered on her cheek.
A mass of ruddy- hair was coil
ed around her shapely head; large
brown eyes, full of the dumb, question
ing pain have seen in the eyes of a
hunted deer at bay, looked out from
between dark lashes.
Marring the stainless white of the
left cheek, liyid mark ran from the
temple into the neck-it almost look
ed as if stinging riding-switch had
been drawn swift and sharp across the
face, burning its brand into the deli
cate flesh. Her dress was of black vel
vet, and around the throat and wrists
were ruffies of costly lace. ''Yours." ]
said, els not face to be forgotten.
could any day paint your portrait from
memory"
"Will you do SOP"
"Certainly, if you desire it.
81 do especially desire it,
/ took out my notebook and enter
ed a memorandum. "Promised tc
paint the portrait of lady from mem
ory, this goth night of Jaunary, 18-.'
She watched me make this entry, and
resuming her bonnet and veil, she fel
into silence.
AS | sat opposite this beautiful, stat
uesque woman, strange sensation
stole over me. Underneath that con
cealing veil there was still, white face
with stricken eyes that haunted me and
sent chill to nay heart. God help her
| thought, for life has been cruel tt
her. Then / unused on the singular