Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1884-11-27

for his sake. But shall not forget,
nor cease to love you. Farewell.
dearest friend. Forgive your little
avis"
This was all, and she had gone =
leaving no trace, making no further
sign.
In vain Roy sought for her, even
with the help of detectives; having
left home and come to this city for
that purpose: while MS mother, no
less anxious for the safety of the lost
girl, made what excuse she could to
her. assembled guests for his absence.
After a month of weary searching
he returned, heartsick and discourag-
| ed.
mo news" he said, in answer to
his mothers anxious questions; NOR
will there ever be. | have lost all
hope of finding her."
A year had passed since Avis disap-
peared, and once more gay party of
merry guests made The Laurels bright
and cheerful, foremost among them
Rose Brandon, the beauty, heiress,
and belle.
A great favorite was she with state
| ly Mrs. Livingstone, and there were
not wanting those who named her the
future mistress of the splendid but
gloomy house which her beauty and
joyous laughter made SO bright and
merry.
Even Roy Livingstone's brow, on
which the cloud of disappointment
and regret had grown habitual, clear
ed somewhat as his artlst-eyes took in
her fresh, proud loneliness, and as he
listened to her animated talk, the
smile that had grown SO rare stole to
his lips and shone like B light in his
eyes. His mother watching him smil-
ed, too, well pleased.
SIS she not beautiful2" she whisper
ed to him. ''She would make fair
and gracious queen for The Laurels,
Roy"
But the gloom came back to his face
as he answered, sadly:
my queen went into exile, mother,
year ago. [ have constant heart,
and cannot transfer my allegiance. "
Roy" cried the merry voice of
Rose Brandon-"R Roy, have you given
up painting? You used to be so am
bilious. Only year ago, remember,
you were enthusiastic about some
picture that was to bring you fame.
What has become of it2 Are you an
artist no longer?"
Il painted the picture but never put
it on exhibition. My mother has it in
the library. I have never painted
SINCE" said Roy gravely.
A kind of chill fell on the company;
instinctively they felt they were on
dangerous ground. Even the beauty's
happy voice took a softer tone as she
questioned gently:
MAY we see the picture, Roy?'
He arose without word and led the
way to the library, the guests
all following, led by Rose Bran
don. Last of all came Mrs
Livingstone with her old friend, Mrs.
Grey, fair, sad woman with silver
hair.
Mrs. Grey was a great invalid, and
unconquerable grief had preyed upon
her heart for years and broken down
her fragile body. She leaned heavily
on Mrs. Livingstone's arm.
"What is this picture?" she asked
her.
1.-THE portrait of one whom I reared
and loved as my own child, and whom
we unaccountably lost, owing to an
unhappy understanding She was
lovely creature, and was to have been
Roy's wife. Sometimes I fear he will
never marry now"
By this time they had reached the
library. Of the many paintings on
the wall one only was concealed by q
heavy curtain; Roy drew the crimson
folds aside.
An exclamation from Mrs. Grey
and Rose Brandon and murmur of
admiration from all the rest bore wit
ness to the loveliness of the image that
was disclosed.
Mrs. Grey pressed forward eagerly,
her weakness seeming for the time for
gotten.
The portrait of graceful girl, fair
as a hly-fower; the lovely wistful
eyes, with a world of loving tender
ness in their midnight depths, looked
out from a face of exquisite beauty,
but as ivory, clear and pale; tender,
dimping smile upon the scarlet lips,
trailing spray of scarlet blossoms in
the blue-bla hair, soft and glossy as
the ravens wing "a simple robe OF
white, and on one lovely snowy arm
a curious golden bracelet. This was
all.
Mrs. Grey stood like one entranced,
her agitation visible to all. Her deli
cate hands were tightly locked togeth-
err; her breath came in quick grasps.
"How llke" she murmured; ''how
strangely like! In heavens name,
who is she9"
my adopted daughter" Mrs. Liv-
ingston replied, for Roy had turned
aside in silence, overcome by the
sight of the beauty he had loved and
lost. Twelve years ago / took her
then five years old-from a poor
old fisherman down on the beach,
three or four miles away. He had
rescued her from the sea on the night
of great storm, two years before,
and had cherished and cared for her
tenderly; but finding sickness and old
age fast robbing him of health and