The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1879-05-23

IL
ing scrutiny.
What did it mean? questioned d-Was
| younger, fairer, than she liked ? Did she
fear dispossession OF Philip Barrnger?
But Mrs. Ethbert Thorne was not one to
talk long with eyes
My DEAR she said suddenly, Il really
should not speak at all but the resemblance
is so very marked
What did it mean ? / stared at her open.
ly,
You do not understand, of course, she
continued, merrily there's a portrait of
very beautiful young girl in Pills paror-
much more beautiful than you-pardon me,
my dear but, oh, so very like. 1t is such
a mysterious picture, too. Who is it? |
have asked Phil a dozen times, if once. "A
lady who was engaged to a friend of mine
in the Indies, is his invariable reply. My
dear, really wish you could see it only
| would not dare take you into Phii's private
| parlor he bever allows strangers there
had begun listening to gossip's story;
| sat at its ending, pale and still. There was
| then, in this house, a picture of Evelyn
| Marston somewhere the face so fatal to me
smiled down from the walls. How ! had
longed to look upon her-what riches
would have sacrificed at this moment to see
her painted self
Much more beautiful than you, but, oh
so very like Was this, then, the key to
Hart Whitney's perfdy was it but a fairer
copy that had won his tickle hearth
What did Evelyn Marston on Philip Bar.
ringers wals-a queen enthroned in his
private apartment, on which no stranger s
eye might look ? Perhaps he was her hope
less lover perhaps the accepted one she
soon would wed.
was reused by a light touch on my
shoulder Mrs. Ethbert Thorne was finally
awake to the business so long delayed.
You will teach the children, of course,
my dear l will take you to my stndy-
ROOM.
| | followed her down the broad hail. striv-
ing to still the emotion that had so distracted
me. Suddenly she turned and pointed to a
door.
That is Phil's parlor,' she whispered if
we only dared go in
gave but furtive glance at it, but from
that moment it haunted me. Daily as
passed it, my pulse quickened ever rebell-
ously | went by. Who more than had a
right to see Evelyn Marston, to know how
fair she was?
Three months, and this longing had be.
come mania, with difficulty suppressed
Thrice had stood by the wooden Cerberus
with my hand upon the knob. Shame hith.
erto had deferred me, but the time had come
to see Evelyn Marston even at the risk of
shame.
So decided, one day in autumn, when
opportunity seemed ripe. Children and
Philip Barringer had Just vanished down
the roadway; Mrs Ethbert Thorne was
doing sweetly Sunny bank was mute,
The time had come. | would steal in
looked upon the face that won my loYer, and
be forever satisfied. With beating heart
crept down the hallway; with hushed breath
crept in.
1t was easy finding Evelyn Marston; there
was but one picture on the walls. In tn,
far corner deserted it. with strained eye,
hurrying onward, looking up finally to see
to look again and stare. For the face be
fore me was not Evelyn Marston's, but my
own-mine as it had looked in the old CIR
days when Hart Whitney went away
There was no mistake. remembered the
picture well one of the many had giver
him, one had wondered not to find among
the articles Philip Barriuger brought bacl
to me.
Much more beautiful, but, oh, so yer!
like One mystery was solved. But one
What was it doing here ?
, | could only stand, with giddy brain, re
peatng that question and staring at m.
was all dream till | saw shadow in th
sunlight, and Philip Barringer. had bu
little thought for him, little wonder for th
, look he wore. The circumstances OF N,
, presence even were nothing now | kney
J but the present mystery, and he could en-
tighten me.
What
Eagerly began the query, but he antici
pated it.
Il know your question. | saw this face i
, the Indies | dreamed of it, day and night
e When Hart Whitney died, | kept this pic
ture, as one unlikely to be missed. | WA
, only dreaming then, but with presence cam
! realization ; a passion unto death. Hope
r less, but / would hope you should kno,
Hart Whitney's perfdy, you would surel
then forget him in time
He paused, and his voice sank to the SO
cadence of that other day.
4 told you, and what fruit You doubte
', 1, me, you might come to hate me /; ] must dro
- out of your life. Fate brought US again t.
gether, but | have never forgotten this m
u sole hope now is that you will let me kee
Is this picture, that you will not take it ava
s from me-
Truly day of amazements, but a day
mysteries solved but to precipitate fresh one
&c Was this Philip Barringer, the formal ma
l. ter of Sunnybank, talking thus to me?
- Was this the cold creature Whitney h,
- fashioned, this woman bidding him ket
her portrait, since it seemed so much
III him?
: 1t is an odd story Odd then, but tru
. . From that day grew to forget Hart VIII
ney, to smile at his perfidy.
ri And when the spring put forth its bu
and blossoms, put my hand in Philip Ba
ringers, and went out to become his wife.
-
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