Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1885-08-19

Strange I should be similarly affected at
the first appearance of the venerable Miss
Parsons. But what was she saying con-
fidentially to the blonde wig.
eff this portrait is failure, and I know
it will be, l will consider your offer and
have done with this artist forever. Lousie
has some silly whims about him, he shall
never separate us-never.n
lost them in the crowd at the depot
| meant to follow closely, thinking perhaps
Rye would be waiting for her, and SO l
should catch my first glimpse of him. I
must take back what I wrote in my last
letter:
% What ,ht,s sublime sub lime goose you have made
A door with knocker like that, might
be identified without difficulty. caught
the dragons grin as soon as my foot left
the elevator, and it was at the extreme end
of a long corridor. 1t must have taken
some heroism to put that knocker up
there.
Yes, there was the wire Father Pietro
fastened with his chillblained hands.
removed it easily, and then softly opened
the door and peeped in. 1t would not do
to frighten the old fellow out of his wits to
begin with. He was standing with his
back toward me, before his easel in an in
ner room. Whew! what vile tobacco he
was smoking, and how stout the magnifi-
cent viking had grown! what a bushy yel-
low beard he was sporting! Singing was
he, and light operatic melody at that.
could family make out the face on the can
vas;-that portrait, of course. The clocks
were striking eleven; his little Swiss clock
sang the hour. He stood biting his brush
handle when I stepped inside and closed
the door, not making a sound. Great
| Caesar! what noise the old knocker made
Doors flew open on every side. Not Rye's,
however, I opened that myself. There he
stood as if petri6ed.
sPretty welcome this, old fellowv' and
threw my bag at his feet and my cap
over his easel. Does it take battering-
ram to open your door! Merry Christmas
to you"
In all likelihood we should have done
group of college boys were watching us
from the corridor, having rushed out from
secret conclaves at the knocking. Rye
banged the door in their faces, and so they
lost the prettiest saraband ever saw.
eyes, my life has been full of coinciden-
ces," Rye said, when 1 told him of the
car episode over the bowl of steaming
punch. "But tell me what you think of
the picture as it isl must finish it to-
night. Let us have the physical aspect of
facts"
"Yoa didn't paint straight for your SUBJ
ject, Rye"
He was working away upon it again.
''The expression 1 ought to have painted
for was afraid I should get.' Said he,
"Now for the TRUTH
The Norwegian punch might have been
milder. Rye's brush worked as if by mag
ic. But it was the punch-or was he max
ing copy of Tiepclo's Grande Signora?
"You are familiar with the old portrait,
l see," 1 ventured at last,
Naturally. 1t haunts me, pursues me,
looks at me from every face. I can't un-
my sister. You don't claim to be a victim
of pseudopia! Then I am right. This
portrait shall be true. You must hold me
out, George, somehow. Cad! I half be-
lieve the old friar's story. My brush is to
help the Grande Signora to find her kim
dred. You must manage the introduction,
George; excuse me from the interview.
There; how is that for a nose? Now let
the fortune fall on the heavenly-faced mai
den, for don't you see, Rye, there is
gleam-something like those sweet eyes,
there don't you see?''
In the wee small hours we carried that
picture to the hotel, where servant was
patiently waiting to receive it.
Rye lodged in his studio. Like two
schoolgirls we talked through the little
that was left of the night after the por-
trait was delivered. My mission was to
protect, at all hazards, his cup of bliss.
When it was safely in his hand we might
all sip of it to our SOULS soothing-the
dear old Miss Parsons included, and the
ghostly Signora, as we'll.
V.
What we at first mistook for tattoo on
the knocker early in the Christmas morn
ing, proved to be a gathering of French
heels in the corridor. They stopped at our
door. Then with vixenish glee the old
knocker proclaimed the arrival. Rye
speedily disappeared.
There was a stiletto glance from the
eyes 1 confronted on the threshold-Miss
Parsons, as knew it would be-
81 must see Mr.. x"
Had I not bowed myself aside have
conviction she had swept me down majesti-
cally.
must win my victory at the outset or
all was lost. 1t was undesirable concen-
tration of fate upon five seconds, and 1 won
der now at the subdued ecstacy of my
voice-my half-bewildered somnambulistic
gaze as calculated as if to myself:
'The Grande Signora! Can it be possi-
BILE? I heard the knockings but was slow
to believe. The face and lineage of the
Pesaros Do dream?"
H., b. e. 1,,.k
I still continued to falter something inco-
supernatural revelation that was to follow
its summons. "But would she be seated
and pardon Mr.. k for keeping her
waiting! He worked late the night before;
he did not believe in the story of that old
knocker, that it would bring the Grande
Signora to his studio; but 7" regarding
her with the reverent courtesy my feigned
supposition demanded-ssEneW you would
come. heard this story in Venice; under
the very shadow of your old palace on the
Grande Canal" Her eyes were dilating;
her mood was softening, and half incred-
ulous smile was beginning to tighten up
her severity.
'What under the canopy are you talk
ing about? l came to see Mr.. K. about
that guy of a picture he sent me for my
portrait"
'Not the picture saw on his canvas last
night?" I asked in an awesome whisper.
''The picture he would have painted other
wise, but could not. He was no longer
master Of his brush. 1t is mysterious,
very mysterious, but it is the ending of a
story told me in Venice; the fulfllment of
prophecy. The Grande Signora finds her
kindred, her descendant in your portrait.
Her counterpart it is. When tell you
many weary years she has been seeking for
you, knocking for you with that ancient
knocker''-she startled and lost color
'syou will generously overlook any exag-
geration of family features which the me- |
dunn artist was forced to develop, in order
that the recognition might be complete;
the evidence of your lineage undeniable."
She dropped down into an easy chair and |
drew long breath. A bottle Of Venetian |
wine stood upon the table. I filled glass |
and presented it upon her acceptance, the
very brand Father Pietro had smacked ap-
provingly the Christmas before.
81 wish Louise had come with me-" in |
prumpy notwithstanding tn sin |