The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1883-05-08

But Lucia Dallas took him in hand
and made him talk, whether he was
| willing or no.
It's all nonsense about your being q
Diognes,' said the sprightly young lady.
Where's your tub and your lantern?'
They're coming down by the next
train, ! said Chestwick, with the utmost
gravity. ' .'' .''N'
well, then, until they come, I shall
make the most of YOU said Lucia.
nodding her curls. do you dance2'
ID. 20 you sings'
DO DO yo,, nirt2, ,
Mo-
MY goodness graciousl' said Miss
Dallas, putting the tips of her plump
fingers together; what do you do2'
That's precisely what you must find
out for yourself
Lucia looked at him meditatively.
Are you fond of pictures?'
Yes. Did you bring your album?'
No; was thinking of the old picture.
gallery up stairs. Only imagine 1.-THE
portraits of the Pakenham ancestry for
two hundred years backp
They must look awfully ancientP
oh, they DO. I'll show them to you
tomorrow.
Lucia Dallas kept her word. She was
not one lightly to let Off a captive
knight, consequently Julian's pleas of
letters to write met with no considera-
ton in her eyes.
AT all events, thought Julian, as the
spicy little damsel dragged him off, Pm
glad it isn't leap-yearP
The Pakenham picture gallery, how
ever, was, we'll worth seeing. A long,
lofty room, lighted by a dome of glass,
it's walls lined with portraits, it remind
ed one Of the same old baronial hall in
England. Julian Chestwick looked
dreamily round, and shuddered little.
i prefer the future to the past said
he briefly.
And then turning his eye fell upon q
pictured face which thrilled him through
and through. A dimpled, smiling face,
with black eyes which seemed to melt
and glow, even against the opauueness
OF the meaningless canvas, mouth full
of arch expression, and dress of the
time of Louis QuatOrZe. Julian Chest
wick stood staring as if he had seen a
ghost.
Field, he said, turning to his host,
with features as pale as if they had
been carved in ivory, swho is that lady?'
Who acdS she, you mean,' laughed
Field Pakenham. Why, you know
she's been dead these two hundred
years or moreP
Julian Chestwidk felt an odd, icy
tremble through his veins. Was he
then in love with ghost2 He remem-
I,n 1,n sn{, =, I,
secret heart to wed none but the Mur-
quisc whose fair face had haunted him
SO long. Could it be possible that this
shadow should rise from the grave OF
centuries to claim his vow?'
1T is Marie de Roudise, of Normandy,
France, afterwards married to Gerald
Pakenham, who died in Jerusalem two
years after her marriage-my great,
great grandmother-and Il very good
looking woman too, added Field, rather
irreverently.
Julian Chestwick listened silently.
He was not superstitious, yet there was
something in all this that he regarded
almost as an omen. Lucia Dallas gay
chatter had lost all interest for him
now.
The jewelled finger of the beautiful
Marie de Roubise seemed to beckom
him-her arched, jetty brows to con-
tract frowningly. You are mine,' the
dimpled lips seemed to syllable, and the
haunting eyes, full of strange meaning,
filled his heart with vague dread.
Had it then been ghost whose beau
ty had cleaned on him once, at Mrs.
Pelgrove's masquerade ball? And was
it possible for men to look on the face
Of a woman who had been dead two hun
dred years, and yet live?
He followed the gay party down
stairs, comprehending nothing of what
went Oh around him-walking like one
in a dream. ., r....
Marguerite has come, he heard Mrs.
Pakenham say to her son. WAS it not
lucky? We had just given her up
The more the merrier,' said Field,
philosophically. =
Mr.. Chestwick had taken his seat at
dinner in a mechanical sort of a way,
when q young lady glided into the seat
opposite him-a young lady IN q black
velvet waist and diamond necklace.
'Merciful fate!' he calculated, half
starting from his place-'Marie de Rou-
dise!'
Hold your tongue whispered Field,
dragging him back into the chair; it's
only my cousin Marguerite Leslie. Stop
staring, and let me introduce you like u
Christian
And as Field Pakenham spoke their
names to each other, Julian Chestwick
found himself looking directly into the
lovely dark eyes Of the radient Marquise
OF the days Of Louis QuatorZe.
Il never thought of it before said
Field Pakenham; but she does look like
the portrait, Of our French ancestress.
Il dressed like it for q masquerade
ball in New York last winter, laughed
Marguerite herself, sand you would
have fancied l had just stepped out of
the Frame
Before You went to .ITavana?' asked
one Of the Miss Pakenllams.'
+ Yes, before 1 went to 1Ia.yaq.ngaa..' ana. 5,
'The riddle was solved at last. Juliail
Chestwick's heart grew light as a feath-
or within his breast, and life became u
possibility Of brightness once morel
I'll marry that GIRL said Julian to
himself, 'or I'll die bachelorl'
You see our friend hadn't cured him
self Of the habit Of rash vows even yet.
But he kept this one. When he went
away from Pakenham Court, Marguer-
ita Leslie had promised to become his
wife.