The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1884-09-05

SELECT STORY.
A STORY SUGGESTED BY THE pIO-
TURE GALLERY OF AN ANCIENT
HOUSE.

sat in the dull, still, lonely house,
long after the early dinner hour, wait
ing for some one to come in and break
the oppressive silence. would have
welcomed anything that could have
been called sound. Nothing to be
heard during the long, quiet hours but
the ticking of the great clock, and loud
er still, the great cathedral notes Of my
own heart, which beat 80 that / could
hear every pulsation as il rang out the
assurance that 'still lived"
Suddenly seemed to have desire
TO look on the family portraits which
hung, not in a gallery, but all along
the walls of the long, dim hall. The
afternoon was chilly and damp, and so
dark from an approaching shower that
the large room III which Ihad beet sit
ting was filled with the shadows which
were thrown upwards from the lights,
for even at that season the hearth at
my grandfather's was never cold.
I knew that the history of all these
dumb yet eloquent beings of the past,
save one--for many, many hours had
been spent in my childhood wandering
up and down their staircase, with my
little hand EMBODIED in my grandfath-
er's, whose own portrait vas among
them. | remember how difficult it was
to associate the bent and aged form,
the silver hair and sunken eyes, with
the broad shoulders, bright chestnut
curls and flashing orbs depicted on the
canvas. 1t was great mystery to my
childish mind-the great mystery of
nature, and though recognized by us
all, is yet unsolved. This strange,
mysterious principle of decay, acting
upon that only which Is breathing and
sentient never renewing itself, but
waiting year after year, while only the
inanimate grows fresh with each re-
turning spring.
1t was not to my grandfather, how
ever, that l owed my entire knowledge
of the pictured forms. That would
have been too far beyond my compre-
hension, that inner history of their
lives. But 80 much time had l spent
with him there, and so intimate had l
become with them, for he had always
called them by their names, as though
they were living beings, that it only
made me yearn for deeper revelation
of their lives as l grew to appreciate
such histories.
To his daughter, woman of strong
cultivated mind. but from some sorrow
IN hear early life, of somewhat melan-
choly, perhaps morbid; tendency, !
learned to fill up the outline which faith
er had only begun and at fifteen the
portraits had charm for me beyond
description.
"And this is the one called Marga
ret" l said to my aunt, as she came in
and carefully wiped the light dust from
the pictures.
She turned upon me with an inquir.
ing glance.
allow do you know" she said quick
ly.
"Because grandfather always said tc
that picture, Good morning, Margaret;
sometimes it was dear Margaret,
answered.
She sighed and tried to turn the sub
ject, but could see that she glared a
the portrait several times, and them al
me. At length she said
"You are really getting to be ,
young lady, Helena! 1t seems sc
strange. You have always seemed 81
very childish until now 1t is only thi
month back that | have noticed tina
you are as tall as l am She pauset
moment, and then resumed 81 use(
to think that you resemble this very
picture, but your mother would neve
allow me to sayso.'
] Ilonged to ask why, but there wa
something about her that prevented
me, especially as i had frequently no
ticed with wonder that this portrait, al
, though the best by far in the colleC
. ton both in the face itself and the al
, tistic merit, was placed in a corner o
: the staircase in bad light, and wit
every appearance of neglect or want o
appreciation. 1t was now only that
saw it to advantage, and that was be
cause the whole staircase was darkene
by the passing thunder storm, and tn
: skylight at the top of the long uppe
: hall blew off, and the red lightning
q streamed upon the pictures. l ha
8 been gazing at them as l paced tn
3 hall, for in thunder showers ! was eve
unquiet and restless, and l was ofte
attracted to the Margaret that it wa
no marvel that at that moment my eye
should have been fixed on that face ir
). stead of any other.
8 That momentary CLEAN How
= electrified me not as usual, with fea
and alright, but with new perceI
tlon of its effect upon others. / ma
seen "Margaret" as should neyel
probably, see her again. l neve
thought of the rain that streamed dow
= in torrents through the open apertuT
above me. l scarcely heard Aur
Esther, who was calling "Helena !" a
the very top of her shrill voice, an
a whom l saw, as looked up, bus
1 with tubs and pals to catch the inuI
= dation.
d only watched for another CLEAN
: and l did not watch altogether in vail
but the second was pale, white strea
that gave strange beauty, too mourn
r. full to make me wish for it again an
| ran into my room, shut the door an
threw myself on to the bed while tea
flowed from my eyes.
Aunt Esther came dustling in, star
led from her usual moody state by tt
passing storm. 'Mercy, IIelena!" 81
exclaimed, in voice that came shaI
ard ringing to my ear "why don
you come and help us to stop IL
rain 7"
l laughed outright through my tear
"Can you stop it, auntyf" said l.
She caught sight of the glitter on m
wet cheek and was checked in mon
ent from the almost angry words sh
about to utter. "My poor child" 81
said, "you are really frightened i
still dear, and / will come to you as 500
as the man gets the skylight close
again
When, half an hour later, 81
came to my bedside | was just wakin
from a dream in which Aunt EsthC
was standing on the edge of the roof
tba act of throwing 0Maroarpt" into