Juniata sentinel. [volume] (Mifflintown, Pa.) 1846-1873, 1873-09-17

would try. On whatnOt at the Otnef
end of the room I found paper and
colors, and 1 brought my materials to
the table where we sat over our wine.
'Now, Mr.. st. John, describe and l
will draw" In a hushed voice he
minutely detailed the items of face.
I made my sketch. No, it was rejected
as unlike. Another-alike unsuccessful.
A verbal description failed to give my
pencil the power of catching the express
sion of the dear familiar face.
"They tell me-" said the old man, in
a low, moody tone, as if he unconsciously
thoug ght aloud, ''they tell me that at the
last she bore the mark of a cruel blow
on her cheek. She, my tender, one eve
lamb, that 1 was fain to shelter in my
bosom from every rough wind that blew.
Overwhelmed by a bitter tide OF
recollection, the old man covered his
face with his hands and sank into
silence. Those few anguished words,
dropping like blood from a wounded
heart, at once recalled the face of the
unknown travelling companion of my
midnight journey. Once more l saw
before me the pale, perfect face, with
sorrowful eyes, and livid mark on the
left cheek. At last fulfilled my neg
lected promise. and taking my pencil,
I rapidly sketched her portrait from
memory. Silently 1 placed my work
before Mr.. st. John. 'It is she !" 1t
is Emmie-my darling, my darling -
he cried, and again and again he kissed
the senseless paper on which was traced
the lineaments of one who was very dear.
"You have seen her then, for no such
powerful likeness could otherwise be
produced. You have caught the very
trick of the half dropped eyelids."
"Yes," 1 said, slowly, 81 nave seen
her. And what is more, on the Goth
night of January last, l promised, at
her request, to take her portrait from
memory" Good God 1t is impos-
sible. On the Goth night of January
she died" 1 felt like man in dream.
With slight shiver recalled the pallor,
the chill, the whiteness of the face of
my travelling companion. Was this
faithful sketch the vivid remembrance
of dead face? I took out my note
book and showed Mr.. st. John the entry
PROMISED to paint the portrait of a
lady from memory, this Goth night of
January, 1S--." A deep silence brooded
over us. As soon as possible / made
my adieu. 1 returned to Dresden, and
once more in my studio. fastened to
paint full length portrait of the mys-
terious presence that haunted me day
and night. l should get rid of it that
way. At the rapid rate 1 worked, the
picture was soon completed. l threw
all the cunning of hand and brain into
the task, and my knowledge of art told
me my labor had not been in vain. In
each detail 1 painted the picture as l
had last seen my mysterious sitter, save
that, in this portrait, no unlovely scar
marred the delicate oval of the cheek.
Anxious to see it placed in MIR. st. Johns
possession, l had it carefully packed,
and l myself took it to Berlin. L was
fortunate to find the old man at home,
and as L begged his acceptance of the
work of my pencil, his cordial satisfac-
tion more than repaid me for the toll of
the last few weeks.
81 Think it is due to you, MIR. Stanley"
he said, "that you should know some
thing of the history of the lady whose
portrait you have so admirably painted,
and under circumstances so peculiar. "
1t cost him an evident effort to say these
words, and ! begged him to spare HIM
self a recital that felt must be painful,
but he persisted in giving me the follow
ing rapid life sketch
Emmie was our only child, and the
fondest love of our hearts trained about
her. During an autumn's wandering
on the Continent, we met Baron Wolf
stein - gay, young, handsome, and
knowing well how best to vile away
woman's heart, he won our Emmie's
love. And we who loved her better than
we loved ourselves, gave her up,
we knew that in the very act,
we tore down our life's Joy with our own
hands. Well, her lover was of good
birth, rich, of excellent reputation, and
as devoted to Emmie as she was to him.
And for her sake, we plucked our one,
sweet English rose from the parent
stem. and Wolfstein bore her off in
triumph to his chateau in the Black
Forest. The world called hers a bril-
liant part; but there was no brilliancy
left for the mother and me. Without
her, house and hearts were dark and
chill. The events of our days were her
letters-at first they were all sunshine,
and full of her husbands praises. After
a while, We fancied they dropped little
in their CHEEKY tone, Ler husband s name
was more rarely mentioned, and at last
he was quite ignored. Time after time
it was arranged that she should come
to us, and time after time her visit was
delayed on some paltry excuse. We
had not seen the face of our darling for
q year. We could bare the separation
no longer. We should go to her. When
so far as Berlin, my wife was seized
ill. I wrote to Wolfstein and
Emmie of our distress-no response
came to my cry for succor.
On the morning of the 2lst of January
I bent over my wife to moisten her
fevered lips with little wine. ed
ward, she said, taking my hand in hers,
"Emmie was with me in the night.
Darling, you were dreaming" 1 said,
soothingly. "It was no dream, hus-
band she stood where you stand now.
Her dress was of black velvet, with lace
about the throat and wrists. She looked
sad, and oh SO cold, and down one
cheek there was horrid mark. Mother,
she said, you have no portrait, not
even a photograph, to remind you of
poor Emmie. l shall send you one.
And before I could speak, or lay my
hands in hers, she was gone"
From her rapid pulse 1 knew fever
was working in her veins, and fearing
this was the raving of delirium, I soothed
her as best could. Just then a servant
entered the room; she held that in her
hand we had cause to dread-a telegram.
1 tore it open, and as my eye learned
its contents, groan burst from my
lips. "Emmie is dead" said my wife,
quietly. 81 knew it, dear" 1t was
even so.
This blow rapidly extinguished the
life of the mother, and she,
too, quickly followed Emmie. After
this sad event, 1 arranged to go to
chateau. He had taken no
notice of my various letters; but 1 con-
cluded that stunned by grief, the poor
eou.- ,,oc ,,coh1o 20 o<foD1 - L;o orJ;