Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1873-10-22
PAINTED FROM MEMORY.

When [ was younger IN my profess
sion than [ am now, Dresden was my
favorite holiday resort. In the quiet
and slow flowing hfe-current of tina!
old void home Of the fine arts I fire.
quently sought and found relaxation
from the strain of work a-day months
in London.
One January night found me seated
cold, travel-stained, and weary-ir
the train at Hamburg, en- route for my
old resort. Experience had taught me
that in Germany fellow traveller i'm.
plies an instantaneous deprivation of
the quantum of the fresh air necessary
to keep the lungs in play. So, calling
the guard, I requested that [ might be
secure from intrusion. Touching his
cap with laconic ''gut'' he pocketed
a doucer and locked me in. The train
started For few moments we STOP
ped at way station. 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, the life is split out of those
in whose cup are only it's less. wrap
my cloak around me.
Once more we were on the point OF
starting, when the door [ 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
Deutcher, and reflected how extraordi.
nary it was that the intruder should be
a woman for abroad the fair sex have
special travelling compartments, where
no man dare put in an appearance, and
vice versa. In the confusion of starting
she had doubtless mistaken her car
rage, and now, .perhaps, felt uncom
Portable. AS the cold each moment
increased, [ offered her one of my warm
wraps, addressing few conventional
words to her on the topic of the wealth
er. Thank you, she said, in quiet
perfectly self-possessed voice, Is but
indeed 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 English, and
well bred but there was no ring in it,
only certain hopelessness sufficiently
pathetic. She had evidently noticed
some of my smaller professional be-
longings IN the netting above me, for
as [ silently pondered what manner of
woman she was, she thus addressed me ::
You are an artist?'
q am"
could you paint a portrait from
memory u"
Most -
She removed the thick veil that con-
ceiled 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 ami still a. chiseled
marble. She encountered TIE bold,
steady gaze of masculine eyes, yet no
tinge OF color fickered on her cheek.
A mass Of ruddy- brown hair was coiled
around her shapely head large brown
eyes, full of the dumb, questioning
pain [ have seen in the eyes of hunt
ed deer at bay, looked out from be-
tween dark Iashes.
Marring the stainless white of the
cheek, livid mark ran from the tenn
pie into the neck-it almost looked as
if a singing riding switch had been
drawn swift and sharp across the
face, burning it's brand into the deli.
cate flesh. Her dress was of black
velvet, and around the throat and
wrists were rufies of costly lace.
Yours" said, "is not face to be
forgotten. I could any day paint your
portrait from memory"
Will you do so2''
Certainly, if you desire it.
81 do especially desire it,"
took out my note book and entered
a memorandum :sPromised to paint
the portrait of a lady from memory,
this 10Th night of January, 49," She
watched me make this entry, and re-
Stunning ner bonnet and veil she fell
into silence.
AS [ sat opposite this beautiful
statuesque 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 my heart. Goo
help her, [ thought, for life has beer
cruel to her. Then [ unused on the
singular promise I had coIae under
to paint her portrait from meIa0ry.