Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1882-12-16

Is a portrait tell me where to find
the original, and will, If it is g
seven days journeyr'
Carradine smiled.
'sIf myself knew where to find
such an original, should not be
here to tell you, my good friend,' D
he answered, evasively.
"Oh, a fancy sketch,'' said the
other, misled, as the artist had de-
sired. 81 might have saved my
self the trouble of asking. No real
flesh and blood face ever looked
like that--~t the more shame to Ma
ture, say! Of course you will ex-
hibit it, Carradine ?"
"No," answered the painter, qui-
city.
"Nor" repeated the other in sur
prise. 'tBut, my dear fellow, you
must, or shall betray your secret,
and you will have a swarm of visit
ors, worse than plague of Egypt,
let in upon YOU"
Carradine hesitated. A chance
word in his friends speech had sug-
gested possibility that made his
heart leap in spite of sober reason.
"You are right" he said. 81
shall send the picture for exhibition.
1t will be better So"
After his visitor had left him
alone again, Carradine bent long
over his easel, gazing into the, love-
ly, upturned face, until it began to
fade into the gathering twilight.
"If-if!" he murmured to him.
self, half unconsciously. 'But it
cannot be. Yet / will send it-and
perhaps"
And so the picture was sent, in
due time; and it seemed almost as
if Carradine's soul had gone with it
and drawn him to follow. Hour
after hour, and day after day, he
sat in the gallery, scrutinizing eag-
erly every face amid the visitors,
whom taste or fashion had brought
to look at the now celebrated artists
latest success. Every night he
went away unsatisfied, and every
morning he returned with hope
springing afresh in his heart.
Still, the object of his search,
whatever it may have been, does
not appear; and one day, discour-
aged at last, he resolved to go no
more on so fruitless an errand.
Shutting himself in his studio, he
began to paint, but, strive as he
would, he could command neither
hand nor fancy. Finally, tired of
repeated failure, he abandoned
work, and yielded to the impulse
which drew his steps in the custom
ary direction.
When he entered the small side
room in which his picture hung, he
found but two persons within, a
young man and girl.
Carradine could not see the faces
of these two, but, with an earnest
ness for which he was at loss to
account, he followed their retreat
ing figures as they moved slowly
toward his picture. But the next
moment an exclamation of aston
ishment burst from the lips OF the
young man. .-. Il
"Why, here is your portrait, Lei
liza! What does it mean? Who
can the painter be?" Q.
With that he hurried out to pur-
chase a catalogue. Carradlne ad-
vanced quickly to the girl.
liam the painter" he said.
She turned and looked at him
with one steady gaze from those
glorious eyes that had haunted his |
visions for so many years. Then
she spoke:
= ou painted that picture? and
low?" inf
"From remembrance" he an
1t was my only tribute
% the little unknown princess who
me once with roses. Does
he, too, remember it ?"
For moment doubt was in her
ace; but as he looked fiXediy at
Ter it vanished in certainty. A
mile Just touched the bright lips.
at was you, then, on whom L
orced my roses ? A princess who
rave away honors unasked. How
,ften / have wondered since"
She stopped, turned to the canvas
nd added abruptly, "But L was
hild then; and here"
Here you are wOman," said
completing the unspo-
zen sentence. sit is so hard to
The same power that
,ept the child in my heart showed
ne into what she would ripen."
She did not look at him now, but
t the picture, as she asked in a low
,oice, "And whom am to thank
or such an honor :" u :,
n"My name is Hubert Carradlne, ="
le answered, and saw at once that
t was no unfamiliar word to her.
And yours? Through all these
ears your face has haunted me
lways, but your name L never
new" .7
She hesitated a moment, then
urned to him. i
"You never knew my name?
hen think of me still as you have
hought of me through all these
ears" she said, a half smile linger-
no about her mouth, but never
lighting the great dark that was
haded by some subtle sadness. The
ook, the tone, transported Cara
line beyond all remembrance of
lace or circumstance, into the un-
cal realm of imagination in which
lis wish was supreme ruler.
"I have thought of you always as
ny life and my love-" he said, half
nconsciously, his dreamy, deep
ray eyes glowing upon her face.
he blushed suddenly, and then
aled in an instant. Just then her
primer companion came into the
Oom.
'I am Leila Auvernay,'" she (
aid, hastily, "and this is Cecil
Vyndham, my--my betrothed
usband."
Not another word was said. AS I
he young man approached, Cara (
inc fell back step and looked at
he two. His was a fair, handsome
ace, SO little marked as yet by '
Ime, that it would be hard for an I
eye to conjecture with
that lines the shaping character
yould yet stamp it. Nevertheless,
18th one keen gaze Carradine esti-
lated both present and future.
She said few low-spoken words
} her companion, who presently
loved toward Carradine, and adj
ressed him.
81 have the honor of speaking to
Ir. Carradine, the painter OF this
icture?"
Carradine bowed without speak
ng.
HWill you pardon me for asking
it is a fancy sketch?" continued
1r. Wyndham. 1
"Partly so, but suggested by the
ice of a little GIRL" answered the
rtist.