New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1882-08-30

! OF his fortune had been swept away.
He was one of those men to whom
financial ruin comes MS fatal blow, and
death had followed it shortly.
SYPHILIS mother had been dead for
years, and the young girl was left abso-
lutely alone. After her fathers death
she had gone away from Hallicote
one knew whittier.
1t became Warren's 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
clue, he was batfied in every attempt,
and had gradually been forced to relin-
| quish the sweetest dream of his life.
He was thirty-five years old now, and
was still 1.-THE young lieutenant in
society. He had not forgotten Sybil,
and his love was such q bootless passion
that he hoped to forget it in q brilliant
neutrality-suspicious. 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 q 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.
If seemed like yesterday that he had
stood before her and seen the pleased
look on her sweet face rs he held his Of
fering up for her to admire.
And what did il 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 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 fnted
columns of the altar. There was the
marble font bathed in pure rose-color,
the pile of flowers at SYPHILIS feet, and he
standing before her in his sailor clothes,
holding up the cross with q 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.
It was beautiful picture. Warren
saw that at a glance; but who was the
artist? 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 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"
When the hands of the clock were
pointing to eleven, Warren had put on
his overcoat and was ready to 90 out
pocket, but in 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? I have taken
fancy to it, and would like to know the
artists name.'
''Oh," was the prompt reply, ''that
is one of our prize cards. It 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
blow.
''Have you his address?' he asked
slowly.
Il can get it for you," the gentleman
is out at present.
''Will you do me the favor of send
ing it to me as soon as possiblep'
''Certainly, SIR"
So Warren turned his steps homeward,
his heart filed with deep uncontrola-
BILE sadness.
1t was evening when messenger-boy
left at the door card for Lieutenant
Clyde, on which was written: ''Francis
Temple, Gillam-court, Upstairs
II will goto-morrow morning." War
rem murmured. Il must see him at
0nce.''
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
plimentS and best wishes for q happy
Easter"
While Miss Gertrude was kneeline
over the litany, brooding upon the lieu
tenants non-appearance, Warren was
making his way in an impatient mood
to No. Gillian Court.
1t was an obscure and 0diOus street;
but, in the clear sunlight, he detected
afar off the sign of little gilded palette,
on which the name of Francis Temple
was painted in script letters.
Upstairs he went, and knocked at :
door on which the same name appeared
over the simple word, ''Studio."
In a moment he was admitted by .
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
enquifsd. "Excuse me, but am very
deaf.''
II wish to see Mr.. Temple" Warren
repeated in louder tone.
.'Weit a moment" the old man said,
with childish trepidation. My grand
daughter will see you.
At that instant side door opened,
and lady entered the room.
1t seemed to Warren Clyde that tho
gates of heaven had Enclosed, for it was