The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1882-09-14

could find out nothing.
Mr. Vincy had lost heavily on several
government contracts for vessels, and
before the close of the war every vestige
| of his fortune had been swept away.
He was one of those men to whom
| financial ruin comes as fatal blow, and
death had followed it shortly.
Svbils mother had been dead for
| years, and the young girl was left abso-
| Iutely alone. After her fathers death
she had gone away from Hallicote-no
| one knew whittier.
1t became Warrens sacred purpose
to find his lost love, and for two years
he had devoted himself to searching for
| her; but, as he had not the slightest
and had gradually been forced to relin-
quish the sweetest dream of his life.
He was thirty-fve years old now, and
was still ''the young lieutenant" in
society. He had not forgotten Sybil,
| but she was to him as one of the dead,
and his love was such q bootless passion
that he hoped to forget it in a brilliant
marriage-perhaps with Miss Gertrude
| de Veau.
All these things came floating back
to Warren on the wings of memory as
he held the Easter-card befo re him.
1t had been just at this time that he
had parted last from Sybil. How well
he remembered the day and the circum-
| stance.
She had been in the little Hallicote
chapel where he had been to find her.
1t was fair April day, and she was
busy preparing the altar for the Easter
service.
She had told him that she was to
superintend the decorations, and when
he went to say goodbye to her, he had
| taken with him rustic cross of his
own manufacture, which he had twined
with lilies and with passson-fowers.
Ii seemed like yesterday that he had
stood before her and seen the pleased
| look on her sweet face as he held his Of
fering up for her to admire.
And what did it mean? AS he sat
there before the glowing fire this came
| back to him with more distinctness
than recollection. 1t was reproduced
on the pretty card Miss de Veau had
sent him.
1t may have been only a coincidence,
he thought, as his heart gave bound
| of recognition; but there was the tall
window of stained glass, through which
the rainbow-colored light fell on SYPHILIS
beautiful hair. and the white futed
columns of the altar. There was the
/ marble font hathed in pure rose-color,
the pile of flowers at SybiFs feet, and he
standing before her in his sailor clothes,
holding up the cross with a look of in
| terrogation. That was he-yeS! And
it must be Sybil! He said so, though
the girls face was turned aside, and
only shadowy glimpse of her profile
was discernable.
1t was a beautiful picture. Warren
saw that at glance; but who was the
artistp 1t must be someone who had
| known Sybil, someone who had witness
| ed their parting that Easter-tide.
The thoughts and suggestions that
| crowded Warren's brain seemed to set
it on fire, He rose and paced the room
with a feeling of unrest. A hundred
emotions which he had thought were
dead and buried came thronging back
to his heart at this touch upon the harp
string of memory.
''Ah, Miss Gertrude de Veau, your
selection was peculiarly unfortunate"
pointing to eleven, Warren had put on
his overcoat and was ready to 60 out.
The Easter-card was in his vest
| pocket, but in a memorandum-book
| which he,carried in his hand was written
the name and address of the firm which
had reproduced SO exactly this scene
from his unforgotten past.
"Can you tell me, SIR Warren ask
| ed of the senior partner, .'who is the
author of this design? l have taken a
fancy to it, and would like to know the
artists name"
''Oh," was the prompt reply, 'that
is one of our prize cards. 1t was drawn
by Mr. Temple
| Somehow Warren's heart sunk at this
| response,
He had not known himself of all the
hopes which he had cherished, and the
name of Mr.. Temple struck him like a
| blow.
Have you his address?" he asked
slowly.
81 can get it for you," the gentleman
answered. ''Our cashier has it, but he
is out at present"
"Will you do me the favor of send
| ing it to me as soon as possible?"
Certainly, sir"
| So Warren turned his steps homeward,
his heart filled with deep uncontrola-
| BILE sadness.
1t was evening whera messenger-boy
left at the door card for Lieutenant
| Clyde, on which was written: FRANCIS
| Temple, e,-Gillam-co Upstairs"
81 will goto-morrow morning. War
rem murnured. Il must see him at
| once"
| So it happened that instead of the
handsome escort which Miss de Veau
had hoped would stop for her on Easter
morning, there came only basket of
flowers, with Lieutenant Clyde's COM
| pinents and best wishes for happy
I Easter
F, While Miss Gertrude was kreeling
over the litany, brooding upon the lieu
tenants non-appearance, Warren was
making his way in an impatient mood
to No.-Gillam Court.
1t was an obscure and odious street.;
but, in the clear sunlight, he detected
afar off the sign of a little gilded palette,
on which the name of Frapcis Temple
was painted In script letters
| Upstairs he went, and knocked at q
door on which the same name appeared
over the simple word, "Studio."'
In moment he was admitted by q
white-haired man, who stopped great
| deal, and walked with an effort
Il wish to see Mr.. Temple" Warren
said pleasantly.
What did you say, sir?" the old man
enquired. Excuse me, but am very
| DEAF
Il wish to see Mr.. Temple Warren
| repeated in q louder tone.
''Wa ait moment" the old man said,
with childish trepidation. MY grand
daughter will see you.''
AT that instant a side door opened,
| and 8 lady entered the room. !,
1t seemed to Warren Clyde that the
gates of heaven had uDclosed, for it was
Sybil Vincy who stood before him in
the same beauty and fairness that had
made her his ideal in his early bpyhoodi
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