Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-06-13
CLAUDIA.


The gray wintry day was drawing
early 70 its sullsn close, and the thick,
low-lying cloud Of heavy smoke seemed
% drop dingy veil between the great,
ugly, dirty city, with its yellow lights,
and he free space Of heaven, where the
clear blue points Of the celestial lamps
shons cold and bright above the open
fhcs Of the country. II was very pro-
saic and hidsous world which Louis
Damarssq ist behind him in the
Bloomsbury street IS he opened the
door Of the great dingy house With bis
lAtch-ksy, and made bis way slowly up
the broad staircase to the second story,
where his rooms we're. Mr.. Dumsresq
was no longer young. Fifty years Of
care and struggle, many privation and
many trouble had turned his hair
white, and bis face was lined, thin. and
ssllow, though his large dark eyes had
kept some OF the fire aud some Of the
drcaminess Of youth 10 spite OF the
sunken spaces round them and the fne
crows feet In the corners. No one IN
London led more commonplace, toll
some, and monotonous existence, to out
ward seeming, than be did. For twenty
FIVE years he had worked at desk in
IN Office, rising from clerk to secretary,
earning small weekly stipend, punctu-
ally paid and fairly gained by hard and
conscientious work and accomplishing
regularity Of attendance. Year after
year the silent, reserved, courteous
man had taken his seat in the Office, as
little known and caring as little to give
or take confidence rs if be were mere
writing automaton, wound up to go
from 10 till 5 from Monday morning
till Saturday night. The heads OF the
Office. the fellow-clerks among whom
be sat, and with whom he exchanged
the necessary greetings and remarks
which civility and business demanded,
knew absolutely nothing Of him except
that he lived in - street, Blooms
bury, and was an intelligent, exact, and
conscientious worker.
But he had his other world, like the
rest; his romance, his relaxations, his
passions, and desires, though most of
these had failed and died, and the dull
level Of thoiny path left few glimpses
of brightness as he trod it with patience
to the appointed end. There had been
. time when his heart had leaped as his
hand closed on the latch which would
open and give him his vision Of home,
when home meant smiling, dark-eyed
wife, eager to welcome him, when the
chatter Of the curly-headed boy on the
hearth with his toys had music in it for
the man who was tired of the weary
routine of the long dull day, and when
Louis Dumaresq envied no one his pal
ace in that room where his household
gods were. Tee dark, kind eyes had
been many year put away into silence;
he could hardly make bis ear exactly
repeat the tones Of the sweet Italian
voice, whose broken English had been
so delicious to him. Comma had be IN
too dear for bis possessing long. She
left him too legacies The one was
the curly. headed boy, q Troublesome pos
session enough, which he often felt had
brought him as much psin as pleasure ;
the other a picture that hung above the
mantelpiece, and which always greeted
bis eyes as he entered the room with
serene smile of welcome--a little piece
Of sunshine. bit of ideal beauty in the
dingy surroundings OF the prosaic Lon
don life, delicious to the beauty-loving,
i'm SENTATIVE nature which it was the
business Of the rest Of the day to re-
press. 1t was Q little Claude, the one
possession poor Comma had
brought into her husbands home, an
heirloom from an artistic family.
When Louis Dumaresq was twenty
one, the son Of . rich banker, brought
up to enjoy life and crafty every within,
hs had taken fancy to 90 to Rome for
six months and study art. 1t was
merely q within he had no intention OF
becoming an artist; he had no necessi-
~ TO be that or anything else d; but he
had considerable turn for dilettante,
and might have done good deal if he
bad been poor, and il the world were
less overstocked with talent. lie
painted in the studio Of an Italian artist,
who was as poor as an artist can be ex-
cept for two priceless treasures. The
one was the Claude, the other his
daughter Comma, who was the prettiest
model any father could have, and who,
consequently appeared in every one Of
Signor Riccardi's pictures under one
name or another, and who was just
eighteen, and at her prettiest, when
young Damaresq painted at her fathers
studio. OF course he fell in love with
her, and she with him. The father en-
it with q sort Of innocent
craftinsss, the young Englismsn being
rich and Comma having no portion and
but blank poverty to look to
no portion, that is to say, but the
Claude, which was promised to her.
Louis Dumaresq came back next year
and the two were betrothed. They
were married when he was twenty-three,
and he took her home in triumph to in
troduce her to his father, q sleek, pros
porous banker, who was apparently as
safe . man as the city Of London knew.
They began life as gayly ss possible,
with visions Of unlimited bliss before
them. The Claude was sent over to
Comma when her father died, the year
after her marriage, when the brown
eyed baby, who was SO exactly like her,
was born.
Then came the storm Of troubles
which after that beat on the poor young
things, and destroyed all the fair pros
poets before them. Mr.. Dumaresq, the
banker, absconded, and the bank COL
lspsed with Q fall that brought ruin on
hundreds Of homes, and, among others,
on his sons. From living in careless
ease and luxury they had to come to
couple Of rooms, and he was thankful
for hard work and . meagre clerks
salary. They were not miserable.
Gemma Was bright-nAtured girl, and
used 70 the economies and plans Of pow
srty. Dumsrssq got on by slow de-
gfses, and was respected and trusted.
Il vas not long before they changed tho
two rooms for the floor in the great old