The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1873-01-09
ISOLIN e.

LHt idI p one mas q SIofiOuSly HdHu-
some creature, queenly as June, with the
grace of Venus added; dark, lustrous
eyes, jetty hair, and olive skin glowing
with crimson. Her whine hand strayed
carelessly over the harp strings, as
though unmindful Of her companion,
fair-haired youth, who hung over her
with an abandonment of devotion such as
only youth can feel and show.
The twilight grew deeper. and the
French clock told the hour The wo-
man seemed to start from her reverie;
she held up her finger, with half
Gliding air, and said, ''Maurice
The boy blushed deeply.
Pardon me, but the minutes fly SO
fast"
Minutes you should say hours,
naughty boy"
"Hoursl Were they years, they
would 90 as quickly"
"Fie I" but the soft bright glance de-
MEL the reproof "You must really 90
now
She held out her hand He bent over
it reverently A footstep sounded out
side, and she quickly withdrew it, saying
carelessly, Goodbye"
Goodbye" he replied, and left the
room.
The twilight had thickened into night,
and the lamps burned brightly when he
reached the street. He walked briskly
on, his head in Utopia and his feet some
times in snow, till he reached the modest
house in which was the room he called
home. The front door creaked as he
opened it, and a slovenly house-maid
looked up the kitchen stairs to see who
came in.
Its only that soft-headed painter on
the third story back" she reported to a
sister below.
The ''painter" went up the st.iirs till
he reached the third story back" which
he unlocked and entered. 1t was a large
room, with "A mixture of dreariness and
cheerfulness, comfort and discomfort,
produced by the disorder of its contents,
which, if managed by deft hand, would
have made it almost luxurious.
Maurice added to the mass by tossing
hat and coat on the nearest chair and
then, after filling tiny kettle and put
ting it ON the CRATE, he walked to an
easel that stood in the middle of the
room, and drawing aside the cover, gazed
in wrapt devotion on the picture it held.
1t was the woman he had Just left.
How the soft eyes seemed to beam, and
the red lips to smile, and the crimson on
the cheek to deepen beneath his eyes!
The kettle sang louder and louder, and
at last bubbled over into the fire, but it
did not awaken him from his dream.
Suddenly hand fell on shoulder, and
cheerful voice cried, ''Heigho, Maurice
Worshiping at your own shrine?
The boy turned, and saw tall, beard
ed man in the prime of life. He had
strong, proud face, with broad, high
brow; mouth firm and kind, around
which care had drawn some lines, and
eyes that were usually sad, but were now
smiling kindly on the boy.
"Peyton," said he, grasping his hand,
welcome"
Thanks" repeated Peyton. ''But
let me see the beauty that has so en-
chained YOU"
He looked at the picture, and grew
white; with one hand he grasped Maui
rice by the shoulder and pointing to it
with the other, he cried, Great heaven,
Maurice, has she crossed yoSr path ?"
The blood mounted to Maurice's brow.
He threw ot'the hand and drew himself
up haughtily, but did not speak; and
with the sad light flooding his eyes,
Peyton continued, MY poor boy, has
that beautiful fend wound her deceitful
wiles around you?"
Maurice's eyes flashed.
"How dare You speak thus Of the pu-
rest and most beautiful woman on earth?
Peyton, you are mad !"
mo, but when see that face | wonder
that | am not. Maurice listen to me.
| love you with love man sometimes
gives to mana love that is not often
borne, but which, when once awakened,
dies but with life; and, in the name Of
that love, ask you, l beg you, to flee
from that woman Avoid her as YOU
would a deadly serpent Destroy that
picture, and tear her memory from your
heart. All, Maurice, do it for nv sake
/ love YOU far better than she ever can. y
''Peyton, do you know that you speak
of the wife of gentleman y
"Wife of a gentleman In heavens
name, Maurice, not yours?
The burning pain in his eyes forced
Maurice to reply ''No."
= -''Thank heaven l would rather kill
you with my own hands than hear YOU
call that wretched woman wife
Maurice sprang forward, and clutched
him by the throat.
Coward How dare you? You shall
answer for this? see it all-you love
her YOURSELF"
With calm hand. Peyton pushed
him off.
Love her? Yes, loved he. once
with a strength that wasted all my youth,
and made my manhood desolate, and, to
save you from like fate, | will tell YOU
a secret that thought to carry to the
grave. That woman is my wife,"
HIS face was ashy, and great beads
stood ON his brow. Maurice stood like a
statue & second and then, looking Pew
ton boldly in the face, he said: "You
lie" and folding his arms, calmly waited
the result of his words.
The veins knotted on Peyton's brow.
and his face grew crimson He raised
his hand, but it fell quickly to his side.
He stepped close to Maurice.
Maurice, no other man has ever said
those words to me, and had another than
you said them now, / should have struck
him TO the earth but | cannot harm
you. 1t is not you, but the spirit of that
devil there, that speaks; and he dashed
the picture to the ground. His lips
trembled, "God bless you, Maurice
forgive you, but henceforth Ke must be
strangers"
He left the room.
X X
In the drawing-room soft music filed
the air, and fair forms glided in the
dreamy waltz. In the conservatory, far
enough from the festive hall to have ite
brilliancy toned down to Intoxicating
softnssS, Maurice stood by IsolinS.