Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1880-09-09

he ndu deem trlcked,-dupeQ!
Then, suddenly, he remembered Mr.
kesteven's words:
"Mr. Hartley, do you remember the
cOncerSdztone six weeks ago?"
| Or course, he did!
| He saw it all now
| His words respecting the portrai. of
! the dead Gray had taken him to see had
been overheard, and, aware of his re-
pugnance, this horrible, CHASTITY trick
had been put upon him.
| For brief while loathing, horror,
blended with fierce indignation, ragged
within him.
| How should he meet his employer on
his return? How could he give his an
| ger vent in the presence of his dead
child?
Yet Hartley vowed never to put brush
again to that portrait, and religiously
| kept his word.
Stay!
And sensation of humiliation came
over him.
Was he light after all.
Was he not dipping matchmaking
a terrible mistake?
| If so, into what an unpleasant posi-
ton might it lead himp
under the influence of opiates
| That might account for the GOODNESS
though the artist did not think it.
If SO, how absurd would have been
his anger?
But If not? Then would it be justifi-
| able; almost-he did not know this de-
ception would be actionable.
How decide?
Saizipo fro,,, IL. 1,l>lo
pulling it Open-regardleSs, in his an
ger, OF the OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES
the CURL, he ran the keen blade into her
arm.
How white it was,
Would blood come? Pray Heaven,
yes!
No!-though, almost unconsciously,
he had pressed the t1esh-not the faint
est sign!
1t was, then not sleep-but death!
With a cry of horror and Indignation,
Leonard Hartley, turning, dashed to-
ward the door.
On the way his foot struck against
low stool, he stumbled forward, and
threw ont his hands to catch some sup
port. His right clutched but the table
cloth, and he fell, bringing the vases,
IL.
All was darkness.
He was alone with the dead,
Only for space. There were hur-
rying feet in the passage; the door was
thrown wide, and the artist heard MIR.
Kesteven's voice exclaiming. in accents
of terror and alarm, "Good gracious,
what has happened? Darkness! Clark,
run, run, bring a light! Oh, Heaven!
what can it be? Mr.. Hartley, where
are yOuP'
"Here, SIR" replied the artist, gath
ering himself up from the floor, as the
ghostly butler glided in with a light.
81 beg to say, Mr.. Kesteven''- be-
gan, then paused abruptly, his eyes d.
lated by amaze, as, naturally, they
turned to the couch
There was his model, truly. But sit
ting up, pushing her pretty brown hair
back with her little hands, in q half
awakened way.
&c 1t was only sleep, after ALL What
an idiot have made of myself" he
thought; then again stopped, for, sweet
and musical the girls young tones reach
cd him.
"Papa, DEAR" they said, vaguely,
"where am Ip What is itP''
A cry so strange, 50 full of JOY, from
the father, drew the artists attention 10
him. He was flying across the room
like a mailman, and in second he had
caught the girl to his heart.
"Mabel, Mabel! my darling pet!" he
calculated. "Oh, Heaven, thank thee!
My own, still my own Mabel"
Whatever did it all mean?
The bewildered artist was asking him
hot IL
when he received rather rough push
on the shoulder, while a voice whis-
pered, "FOr goodness sake, sir, get out
of this don't you understands
"Understand?," repeated Hartley,
and his child. "I can't say | do
'Then get out into,the next drawing
room all the same, sir Master wouldn't
have dear Miss Mabel know for worlds,
The speaker was the butler-no longer
ghostly butler, but the most like
and energetic of buffers. With no re-
bundled them all into the back drawing
room, pushing the amazed artist after.
Then, swift as lamplighter, he lighted
the candles in the wall branches, kicked
the table-cloth and fragments under the
table, then said, in the tones of quietest
unconcern, "The doctor, sir, said he'd
wait and see you down STAIRS
After which, this singular butler came
into the back drawing room, dropped
the dividing curtains, sank into chair
and rocked himself to and fro, half
laughing, half crying, gasped through
the handkerchief he was forcing into his
mouth, ''Oh, dear! oh, dear! Who
would have thought it? Oh, my master,
what a day for him! To think to-mor-
row she might have gone, and it 'ud
have been too late!"
"In the name of all that is wise,"
cried the artist, shaking him roughly.
+" tell me what this means, you old idiot?
/ came here to take the likeness of
sleeping girl. fancy, instead of sleep,
it is death"
.'That's it, sir-that's it," broke in
the butler; "that's what poor master /,
and all of us thought the doctor. |
Poor Miss Mabel went off cold and stiff. |
quite sudden, and every one said she |
was dead. So my master, who hadn't