Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1884-12-11

hdt ID ilis PICTURES! sne asked
her.
The portrait of one whom reared
and loved as my own child, and whom
we unaccountably lost, owing to an un-
happy misunderstanding. She was a
lovely creature, and was to have been
Roy's wife. Sometimes 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 heavy
curtain; Roy drew the crimson folds
aside.
| An exclamation from Mrs Grey and
Rose Brandon, and murmur of admir-
alton from all the rest, bore witness to
the loneliness of the image that was
| disclosed
| Mrs. Grey pressed forward eagerly,
her weakness seeming for the time for
gotten.
The portrait of a graceful girl fair
as lily-flower; the lovely, wistful eyes,
| with world of loving tenderness in
| their midnight depths, looked out from
face of exquisite beauty, but as ivory,
| clear and pale; a tender, dimplinp
smile upon the scarlet lips, a trailing
| spray of scarlet blossoms in the blue
black hair, soft and glossy as the RAJ
vens wing-a simple robe of white.
and on one lovely snowy arm curious
| golden bracelet. This was all.
| Mrs. Grey stood like one entranced.
cate hands were tightly locked together,
her breath came in quick gasps.
'.How likei' she murmured; chow
strangely like! In Heavens name, who
| is she?n
"My adopted daughter Mrs. Liv-
ingstone 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 poor old fisher
| man 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 strength, he sought to
| find a friend for his little girl in me.
imagination cannot picture any,
thing loyelier than the child was then
| loved her at first sight, and have
loved her always. ! adopted, educated
her, and brought her up as my own.
have the clothes she wore when she was
| found, but they furnish no clue to her
| parentage, but on her arm, clasped
firmly above the elbow, was bracelet;
| it fits her slender wrist now; You see
she wears it in the portrait; upon it is
a single word-the old fisherman took
| it to be her name, and so called her; we
never changed it. Avis was the word,
and Avis She is called
A cry from Mrs. Grey interrupted
her; she sank upon her knees before
the picture with .outstretched arms
"Avisn she cried. '.My child-it is
my child! Fourteen years ago the cruel
sea washed her and her father from my
arms. The waves restored him dead,
bat she was seen no more. Where is
she--oh, where is shep And the clothes
| she woreP"
She sank back in Roy's supporting
| arms speeches., almost insensible.
Mrs. Livingstone fastened from the
room, but returned Immediately with
the little garments.
Weeping with love and joy, the long
bereaved mother identified them all.
BLESSED be the merciful Heaven that
has kept her safely, and restored her to
me after all these years. And you, my
friend" turning to Mrs. Livingstone,
chow shall / thank you for your
love and care! Oh, bring her to me-
Let me clasp her once more in my
| arms. Why do you hesitate? l am
strong enough, Joy does not kill. What
is itP" she continued wildly, gazing
with growing fear upon the pale avert
! ed faces of mother and son. HAS harm
befallen my child? Have | found her
only to lose her? Avis, my daughter!
| Where is shepn
| Rose Brandon rushed to her side.
BE calm" she cried .'Avis is safe
and well. No harm has come to her.
Listen to me, can tell you where to
| find her.
your it was Roy who spoke. ''You
| know Avispn
II know her well, but l have never
| known, until this moment, of her con-
nection with this family. Why have
| you kept your loss and grief a secret
RoyP l could have helped you, had
known your troubles, long ago.
1T is nearly year since she came to
| us, in answer to an advertisement for
nlusic-governess for little Ida. Mother
| was sick when first she called, and con-
sequently received her. She was so
beautiful and innocent, and yet so sad
and friendless, that my whole heart
went out to her from the first. She
| told me the simple story of her adop-
| ton here, and of Roy's love and hers,
but without mentioning a single name,
SO that / never thought of you. She
| had left, she said in order that he
might forget her. She gave me, as
| reference, her own former music
| teacher, who, while answering for Avis
| in every way, declined to tell anything
that the girl had left concealed So
she came to us, and has dwelt with us
ever since, quiet and sad, poor child,
| but safe and kindly cared for. | left
her at home with Ida and mother when
| came away. She is there now"
| Roy Livingstone caught her hands in
his. and pressed them to his lips.
"God bless you, Roser' he cried,
hoarse with emotion. .sYou have given
me back happiness and love. Mrs.
Grey, will bring your daughter toyou.
| / go by the train that leaves in half an
hour; before nightfall you shall fold
hSA AZ yOui di his huiSu, ais anu uo
was gone.
The dusky grey of an autumn twi-
light filed the lonely schoolroom that
afternoon, but occasionally flashes of
light, from a small but cheerful fire,
fell on the slender girlish figure that
| sat before it in low armchair, her
| soft pale cheek supported by one little
hand, her eyes fixed on the glowing
| Goals.
A world of longing love and fond re-
greet was in those great dark eyes, that
saw not what they gazed upon, but
were looking far away into the past
Thinking of Roy always thinking of
Roy. Where was he? How Jared he?
Had he forgotten Avis? Alasl poor
Avis could not forget Harkl what was
| that?
A footstep in the hall outside the
door. Nothing in that to make the
eyes SO bright and the pale cheek flush
to vivid crimson, All. but it had
sounded like Roy's footstep. Roy's
footstep here-what idle dreamingi
What strange tricks fancy played her
oftentimes.
She could close her eyes, and hide
her face in her hands, as now-now,
partly for shame at her own fond folly