The Penn's Grove record., 1882-01-14
The Yelled Portrait


tops, waiting sad music TO the young
face peering from out the window. A
dssoIate scene for a light, girlish heart
to ponder over.
With q heavy sigh Marie D'Araigne
tarned her fair face toward the inner
room, saying This is a dreary old
home, aunt / am dying of ennui.
Please tell me, now, the tale you
promised to relate, the story Of the
Yelled Portrait will you not?" So
saying, she threw herself upon a low
stool at the feet OF a venerable lady,
turning her bright face eagerly up
ward.
There 1t hung, the portrait With the
long black veil thrown to one side. IL
aslike q personation of morning, with
her myriad shifting lights Frightening
up the whole aspect. The cheek was
soft and rounded, a delicate bloom
resting thereon, as on the mellow
peach. The eye was full and dark,
and the long hair was caught back
from a white brow, and fell in mid
night beauty below a dainty waist.
Yet the great charm lay in the bright.
ened, joyous light that fell over the
countenance, as the sunlight, falling
over q mountain stream, gilds its
waters with golden ripples. A pure
and innocent soul looked out from
those eyes, whose splendor rose upon
- e.. A-s.. .k~~J -as1 fka DARK
ness Of night.
sssing her hand over her eyes, and
ring . mournful sigh, Madame
raigne complied with her fair
e's request, commencing thpss
The name of the lady whose por-
hangs over themantel was Helene
Cyr, an ancestor of yours, my
ID, as you perceive by her name.
were girls together and passed
Any happy hours in the solace of
n another's friendship"
The old lady rested her head on her
hand. Did her imagination take
flight to that happy valley of her
youth, where she stood with her beau
tiful girlhood's friend, crowned with
the gorgeous diadem of love and truth
"Ah, yesi We were girls together;
/ can see her yet, bounding through
the old chateau, making the time
worn rooms ring with her merry
laughter. She was n of Gods fairest
women, and, alas there came for her
so1Ianad ftnoa uybap fho siubf of
her eyes was darkened by sorrow, and
the thrilling bird of hope in her heart
sang no more melodies. 1t was the time
when there gurgled up from her
womanly nature the tideless stream of
love-love for q young artist, Leon
Moreau, whose noble manhood was in
the purest handiwork of the Creator.
Aiss for Helen! Her father had still
implanted in his bosom the proud
seeds of the aristocrat. The conditions
Of the old feudal system and feudal
laws found support in his mind, and
with determination that his daughter
should wed a title, he sternly refused
consent to the union of the lovers and
banished Leon from the chateau.
The Marquis D'Orville was rich and
powerful, and upon pressing his suit
to Monsieur st. Cyr, an answer was
given in the affirmative. remember
Helene rs she appeared that evening.
sXsnNlisite blue silk fell about her
graceful form, setting off to advantage
the fairness Of her complexion and
deepening the blush on her cheeks.
Never had she been gayer.
Tickle girl, thought i, as the light
Jest and song fioated from her lips; and
my eyes filled with tears as the image
of the despairing lover, whose grief
drove him almost to madness, arose
before me. 1t is not always from gay
lips and sparkling eyes that mirth
flows tunefully. Tears and mockery
are trooping behind, goading on the
bowed heart to wild laughter.
The bridal evening finally arrived,
and the feast that was prepared iivaled
q scene from the glowing tales of the
Arabian Nights. Helene was as pale
as the snow that is drifting over the
ground. Her robe of white satin fell
cleaning like moonbeams on the lake,
and clusters of orange blooms peeped
in and out the dark coils of her hair.
Pearls shimmered on her neck and
arms--fatal jewels for a bride-tears,
and tears only.
Dear friend,f she murmured,
through the storm of grief hat vented
itself in my arms, / have promised to
meet Leon now, at this very hour.
Whatever betide, you will think of me
always with affection, and remember
me in your prayers to Him who is good
to all His sorrowing children
She gathered her shining robe about
her, glided down the long corridor aud
thence into the garden. Fearing some
evil, / followed silently, keeping in
the shadow OF the trees. Leon folded
his arms about the fair young creature,
and pressed passionate kisses upon her
weeping face. The noon came like a
phantom from out the clouds, lighting
up the noble figure of the lover and
the clinging form of the maiden.
The sea beat heavily upon the shore,
breaking among the rocks in a sort of
requiem, and 1 fancied it a present
ment of some dire evil. Never EN-
time blot out the memory of that wild
night. Trailing clouds fed across the
sky, and the wind rocked the trees
with q low, revengeful sound. 1t was
similar to the hiss of a serpent, before
his deadly fangs are fastened in the
flesh Of his victim.
/ could not hear the hurried words
that were whispered near me; nor
when they grew louder and louder,
aud q Cad I thsnE tI.a 49, xa...4