The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1880-07-28

= atNt it-NfNt Y 'SAAAoiliSA 81 Shi b
ma 70 him. Although 50 young in
years, sobeantiful in form and feat-
ure, she seemed cold even TO hautin-
ess, reticent even TO scorn.
It was as though some exquisite
marble statuehad risen ! n his path
way, which might some day warm
into life.
She welcolhed'him wherever they
met witha manner which while il
gave him no cause for conn plaint, yet
chiliedtho hope springins withinhi
.brensts s.|;'
One day, on gong d her ftO1-. i
servant met him at.the door with the
announcement that she was very i'll.
This announcement brought other
knowledge-the fact that he could no
longer conceal from himself that he
loved, and that on his hope of win
ming, hung his life's happiness.
He went back to his studio, wretch.
ed and despairing, and seated him.
self at his easel. He had not meant
10 paint her face-his brain seemed
unconscious Of his fingers toil-yet,
when morning broke, it was her fea,
lures smiling upon him from the
canvas, and he remembered the
words his hostess had uttered on the
night he had first met her-that thus
should he render himself immortal.
He grew pale and wan in the days
of anxious suspense, when those who
watched over her couch knew not
which would conquer the angel Of
life or death. But there came an
hour, never TO be forgotten, when he
was admitted into her presence.
She was very white and fragile,
but more beautiful than in the color.
ing of perfect health A new ex.
preston, too, was in the violet eyes
raised to welcome him.
II am very glad to meet you again,
she said gently. ~ hear you have
been very anxious about me. You
were very kind"
Then the words he had not meant
to speak burst from his lips.
aAnxious2n he said. sCan a man
Miss Rayburn, perishing Of hunger
hear Of the famine without a shud'
der? I am presumptuous, you will
say. 1t is true. Whit is my life,
with its many settled pages in which
your eyes could never look, that
should dare TO offer it to you? And
yet purified by your love, ! would try
TO make il more worthy. Tell me-
answer mel If | serve as Jacob SER
we'd for Rachael, is there hope that ]
may win you? My darling! my dar-
ling! / love you! | cannot live my
life without, you! Will you share
il2"
Lower and lower dropped the lids,
until the long, dark lashes swept the
marble cheek, while the sweet mouth
trembled; but the momentary weak
ness passed as she spoke: "Forget all
that you have said, Mr.. Clayton, 1t
can never be.
"You don't love me?" he question
ed sadly.
Again that swift expression Of
pain fitted across the lovely face.
u shall never marry" she answer
ed, @but," and in her voice crept an
almost pleading tone, II need my
friends very much, Mr., Clayton do
not desert mel"
Il cannot" he replied. ITO desert
you would be to desert the hope Of
one day forcing you to unsay those
cruel words-the hope that will go
with me to the grave"
What was the barrier between
them? This was the question ever
ringing in Harold Clayton's ear. AS
she looked when she pronounced his
doom, so he had fancied she might
have looked when the statue warm
ed into life.
Since then she had been colder,
more distant than before; but he had
caught the momentary expression,
and transferred it to the picture on
which his every leisure moment was
spent.
He was thus engrossed one morn
ing, ever striving to add new beauty
to his almost perfect work, when a
low knock aroused him.