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

and the low, black clouds still came
rolling upward, and the long, mutter
ing sounds OF the thunder were still
heard, and sharp flash of lightning
came, making me wish that could |
again gaze on the picture. But the
skylight was replaced, and the heavy
boards were nailed down over it more
securely, for no one in the house ever
thought of keeping it open to light the
pictures below.
Aunt Esther placed herself in the
large lowered easy-chair which had
been my dear mothers when she was
living. Her tall, thin prim figure rose
up straight and perpendicular, and her
long, meagre hands were folded on her
lap. Her hair was folded plainly over
her forehead, and was still, in some
places, dark and glossy, but just above
the temples there were two large spots
of silvery whiteness, that looked as if
two snow-hands had been pressed there
to hide something aching beneath.
81 do not know that / can tell you
all that you wish to know, Helena"
she at length said. "There is little
use of recalling memories that are so
sad as this, and you are too young to
understand all the bearings of this un-
fortunate history but your curio-
sity is now excited and l will crafty
it.
My heart beat high with expectation
l had read many romantic tales-but
there was that could actually be told
by lips---something, too, that was con-
nected with mystery, of my family at
least, and l experienced new and de-
lightful sensation.
l cannot give any idea of it in my
aunt's language, for so fearful was she
of approaching it too nearly, SO vague
ly did she talk of persons and subjects
in connection with it, and so often did
l question her of matters without
which being explained / could not
grasp any meaning to her words, that
l prefer telling it in my own abrupt
and blunt way.
Margaret, then, was the sister of my
grandfather, the only and idolized
daughter of the family-tne pet of
four or five brothers, all older than her
self-the graceful, beautiful, accom-
plished representative of the female
part of the Greenwood household.
That she should be petted and ido-
lized was not strange, for no lovelier
being had ever dawned upon humanity
no brighter, happier impersonation
of youth, intellect and graceful beauty
ever beamed upon a household than
Margaret Greenwood.
All that wealth could procure was
lavished upon her enjoyment all that
love could devise was poured out like
water at her feet. Throughout the
household Margarets comfort and hap
piuess were the engrossing themes. In
trifes, as in things of magnitude, there
was a positive passion to minister to
her qualification. Not dress did she
hang upon her dainty little person that
was not imported especially for use.
Not an ornament graced her that ever
saw the light of an American jewel
case. Copely painted her, it was true;
bat Copely was the prince of portrait
painters at that period, and his pictures
will ever be recognized as perfect in
individual expression possessing an
inimtable charm of attitude, an ndes-
cribable beauty of coloring, and though
last but not least, an adoption of COS
tune combining the richest material
with the most faultless simplicity in
its shaping reproducing only those
classic methods of drapery which arc
ever new and beautiful. There are few
families which would not like to boast
of ancestral paintings from the hand
of Lord Lyndbursts father.
We'll, Margaret's husband must be
imported, too; and when Walter
Greenwood (my graudfather) returned
from Edinburg, where he had finished
his education, he brought with hin
young Leonard Bruce, and at Is Mar
garet was betrothed to him. Never
was more perfect match to all appear
ances. Both were surprisingly hand
some, both highly intellectual. Eacf
had certain individuality of look,
character, expression, SO different from
all others around them, and so well il
keeping with each other. And ye
Margaret did not love him. She wa
blinded to her own true feelings by thu
state OF things around her. Her sud
den and evident admiration, her broth
er's enthusiastic friendship for him, tn,
interest which he excited in all whC
saw him, gave a sort of blind compul
sion to her conduct in consenting t
become his wife, and she tacitly al
lowed the preparation for her marriag,
to proceed. 1t was celebrated with al
the parade which could be brought t,
bear upon it, and envy itself admired
what it did not dare to deprecate.
Margaret was queenly in her mar
IMAGE robes but her eye did not ono
turn with confiding glance to tn
noble figure by her side. There wa
an element plainly wanting, which
when present, sanctiiies the simples
bridal-absent, the grandest ceremon
ial sinks into falsehood.
1t was heavy stroke to the famil
when they found that Leonard Bruc
determined to take his wife to Scot
land. They had never dreamed of il
Walter Greenwood had always suppo,
ed that he would settle in America fo
Leonard had always favored the SUI
position. But after q few months @
, journeying, and corresponding time c
rest and enjoyment, he languishcd fo
, his native hills, aud before the autum
had ripened to golden grain, they wer
, on their way to Scotland,
| A few short letters from Margare
told them from time to time of he
prosperity, of the beauty of her SEQ
tish home, of the sweet poetic associa
tions which it recalled and strengthen
ed but never of her happiness, Chile
rem were born in that home, whom sh
described with all the intensity of
mothers deep, unfailing, earnest deyc
ton but for the father and husband
no word had ever been written excep
in the most casual and indifferent maj
per. After few years there was a
evident bitterness, aud even conteml
tuousness, in her slight reference
him which could not but pain thos