The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1880-08-28

the first, only the oppression to the ar
list was greater.
There was something awful in the
stiffness that surrounded the sleeping
girl.
Leonard Hartley grew nervous.
He started if his brushes clicked
against his palette.
Faint heats came over him, though the
month was December.
Once he had to lean back and wipe
the perspiration from his forehead
Mr.. Kesteven, rising, quilted the
room, and returned speedily with wine.
Excuse my previous forgetfulness,
Mr.. Hartley, he whispered At this
time | have much to occupy my
: thoughts
He placed the decanter and glass by
the artist, who thankfully filed the lat
ter and drank
1t brought nerve, and he proceeded
refreshed.
( The portrait had now made wonderful
progress. The likeness was unmistaka-
bic. The lips curled with a smile, the
4 eyes shone forth in animation, the father
was delighted
Acknowledgements he exclaimed
with emotion, as he gazed upon it. 1t
I is herself, Mr.. Hartley. | can never
thank you sufficiently. You have made
me your debtor for life
/ When the artist left that night he
i felt worse than on the first night. He
wandered restlessly through the streets,
10th to go back to the solitude of his
chambers. He seemed to dread to be
alone, craved for the sight OF moving,
animated life, and plenty of hight.
Once he asked himself if he We're In
love with this sleeping beauty, as he
could never get her out of his thong hts
But he laughed at the idea.
No; it was the singular stiffness and
heavy air OF that drawing room and all
its surroundings, that was the cause
nothing else.
The third evening was worse than eth
er OF the preceding two, or Leonard
Hartly was growing more irritable under
the STRAIN upon his nerves. He felt that
he should like to cry Out-perhaps with
an oath-at the gray-haired butler who
moved around like an inha bitant of the
other world
But he put restraint on himself, re-
tecting with satisfaction that there was
but one more sitting, and then he would
/ be free.
after that, she and her father are
going away" he mused-" [ wonder
where. | should like to see her again
when her eyes are open. II would be
pleasant to feel their light shine on one. .
The fourth and last evening arrived
Like those who hasten to get not over
congenial task over, Leonard Hartley
was few minutes earlier than usual
Everything was ready, however
everything the same as previously, only
Mr. Kesteven's manner had changed
He was hurried, restless, nervous, and
he asked the artist if a shorter sitting
would suffice that night.
can hour would be enough" answer
ed Leonard Hartly, by no means re-
luctantly; and thinking, 81 suppose the
old gentleman breads his daughters
waking and detecting his little plot. /
wish she would; [ should like to see her
out of that dreadful sleep"
The painting had not proceeded a
quarter Of an hour when the ghostly
butler, gliding in, whispered something
TO his master, who, eXcusing his absence
for brief space to the artist, hurriedly
left the room.
No sooner had he gone than Leonard
Hartley threw down his brush. 1t was
the first time he had ever been left, even
for a moment. with the sleeping girl, and
an irresistible impulse was upon him to
take a closer inspection.
Rising, after a cautious glance back at
the door, he approached the couch.
n L., IL L.
falling from his face, and that EXPIRES
sion, half doubt, half fear, in his eyes
A moment he stood, the beaded per-
SEPARATION on his forehead.
Then Selling the lamp from the table,
he advanced, trembling, and leaned over
the sleeper.
His hand touched hers.
1t was icy cold.
Looking closer, what was revealed to
him?
The color on the cheeks was artifciall
the muscles of the mouth were drawn.
Leonard Hartley, with a cry of terror,
reeled back.
"Great heavens!" he cried; cit is not
sleep-it's death!'
Staggering, he could at first do no
more than, placing the lamp on the
! table, stand gazing upon the girl.
He had been tricked-dupedl
/ Then, suddenly he remembered Mr..
Kesteven's words:
" Mr.. Hartley, do you remember the
+ conrcrsa9ionc six weeks ago."
OF course he did,
He saw it all now.
His words respecting the portrait OF
the dead Gray had taken him to see had
been overheard, and, aware of his re-
pugnance, this horrible, ghastly trick
had been put upon him.
For a 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 anger vent III
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 right, after all?
Was he not dipping himself ?-maklne
terrible mistake?
If SO, into what an unpleasant position
might it lead him?
Mr.. Kesteven had said his child was