Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1881-03-29

first frost. She laughed when people
said that 1t would be an early winter.
All her paintiDg-for she possessed
great talent with her brush depicted
winter scenes-snow and ice
But just at the Thanksgiving season
her father, sturdy farmer, was borne
senseless, one day, to his home, and
died before he recovered consciousness
1t was her first real grief. She had
lost her mother when an infant. It
seemed to her that she could not have
had strength to live through 1t, but that,
as they lowered the coffin into the grave
few fakes Of snow came whirling
down from the gray sky, and she vel
coined them as heaven sent messengers
of hope.
When she came back to the quiet
house, through whose rooms the dear
CHEEKY voice would never more echo. she
almost expected to find some one wait
ing for her but all was still and DESC
late.
They were dreary weeks that follow.
ed--the more dreary that she found o
heavy mortgage lay on the farm, and
that when all things were cleared up,
there would be left to her but few hun
dred dollars.
AO WILL uOt CoAC, 6Hc uluI IuuIGU.-
'It will prove his love for me the more. ~
The week after the funeral. sat in the
firet heavy snow storm, and the paper
told how it spread from one end Of the
country to the other.
Lena was almost barricaded in her
lonely home, but she sat all day with
folded hands, looking upon the soft,
feathery f1akes-watching the drifts
grow higher and higher and knew that
it all was bringing summer to her heart
Then the neighbOrs came to take her
in their sleighs, when the sun peeped
out again and all the earth was wrap
ped in its white mantle. They said that
her cheeks was pale and her hands fe-
verish, and that she must have more Of
this clear, bracing air.
| But she shook her head and rPfueed
to go. Could she leave heilouse, hen
at any moment he might comef Be
sides, she had sent to him paper with
the announcement of her fatner's death.
and this must surely hasten him.
But day succeeded day. until week
followed week, and still be neither came
| nor sent her word. The snow clouds
had formed and fallen many times, and
each time her heart grew sick with
longing.
She loved him 80 wholly, she trusted
him go completely, that she though oDly
sickness or death could have Kept him
| from her.
The hours dragged very slowly. Her
little studio was neglected She sat all
day, and every day, beside the window
until one morning she wakened to know
that the first robin had returned, and
the first breath of spring was ia the air
He had failed to keep his promise to
her.
The same day, they told her that the
farm must be sold. Many neighbors
offered her home, but she declined
them all.
A sudden resolution came to her She
would go to the city where he lived
Her pride forbade her seeking him, but
may be, ifhe were lot dead, as she often
feared, she might one day meet him In
the stl eet, or at least hear some news of
him.
The hope of meeting him-of hearing
of him-vanished, when she found her
selfin the great metropolis. and realized
its size and immensity.
| She had secured q comfortable home
with good. motherly woman, bu, her
purse was growing scanty, and she
could not tell how long it might hold
out, unless she could find some means
of support, when one day, saunteriDg
idly on the street, glancing into shop
window, she saw some fancy articles,
painted by hand.
Gathering up her courage, she went
in and asked if there was sale for that
sort of work, and if she might be allow
ed to test her skill.
From that hour all dread of want
vanished, and now that her hands were
busy, she found less time to brood and
think.
II want fan painted" the man said
to her, one day. "You may make an
original design, but it must be very
beautiful"
"Lena's heart had been very ssd all
day, as, at evening, she unfoIded the
satin, and sat down, brush in hand, TO
fulfil this latest order.
at is a gift to an expectant bride, !"
the shopkeeper had said and the words
had recalled all the long waiting, the
weary disappointment. those words
might bring.
.'And, as she thought, she sketched,
and as the hours crept on and the even
ing grew into night, and the night into
morning, and still she bent over her
work, silent, engrosI ed.
The next day, the gentleman who had
given the order for the fan sauptered In
to the store. With an air of pardonable
satisfaction, the man drew il from the
box.
1.-THE young artist has outdone her
self, SIR" he said. II never saw a more
beautiful piece of work, and the design
is entirely her own. L"
But he checked his sentence.
The gentleman had taken the fan In
his hands, and was examining 1t With
startled eyes, and face from which every
trace of color had fed.
| Could it be that the word Nemesis
was painted upon the satin? No, this
was all he saw. On one side was wood
land scene, while seated on a log beneath
the leafy branches of an old oak, were
two figures one q man and one wo-
man. His arm was about her waist
Her lips seemed to move, her whole ex
preston was full of love and trust, and
his of promise. A little laughing stream
rIppled at their feet. A bird sang over
head.
| Where had he seen just such scene
before? He turned the fan on the 9TH
er side. Summer had vanished. 1t was
winter here. Naught but the fast-fall-
ing snow drifting in heaps upon the
earth.
who painted this ?" he asked, In
hoarse, changed tones.
The man gave the name and address.
| How well he had known It'll but how
came Lena here? And what was this
| " b ich stirred through every fibre Ct hie
being? Could 1t be that his manhood
mig ht vet redeem him?
| With swift steps he walked to the
house of his betrothed. Stately and
beautiful, she came into the drawing,
room to greet him. and bent her head
that he might touch her forehead WIFI
his lips.
"Helen, do you love me?"
She had known him for long yesn