Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-06-13
rur RTCHMOND Overwhelmingly. JUNE IL. 1885.

| find fhere--the refined songs, the cos
tunes, and general tom.foolery. I should
hardly have thought it could be so fas-
chatting, even to twenty-five years hu-
manity. Certainly, IL that is enjoy
| ment, I never should have found it
not even when was young. So there
is no special attraction"
There was O moments silence; the
two stared at each other-on the one
side with looks ofcold, averse displea-
sure, on the other with fierce, but half.
| frightened glances. Clement broke sud-
denly on the stiffness in = hoarse voice,
from which all the music seemed de-
parted. Yes--there is-I'm not 60
ing to beat about the bush, for believe
you know. There's a girl there I'm in
love With can't get on without her,"
"A young person with frizzled hair,
who sings idIotic nonsense?" his father
said in low, iced tone, stroking bis
thin, hollow cheek with o hand that
trembled.
"Don't provoke me, 1.-THE young man
burst out with sudden blaze OF fury.
"l'm half mad tonight can't stand
much"
"More than half drunk" his father
returned with contempt. "Let's make
an end Of this. You are going to the
bad, or gone; you are throwing away
time, money, talent, opportunity; you
are going the path that endsin perdition.
can't stop you; can't help it; I've
done what | could for you everything.
l have kept myself straight that you
might have every chance. I've borne
and forborne. What is it you want
now? What delirium Of folly has got
hold Of your"
"Iwant money (; | must have money"
the boy cried fiercely, the wine firing
his brain the GOODNESS and scorn in
his fathers looks and voice helping it to
madden him and make his moods into
fury almost insane. Every one says
you have heaps of it, and | must have
it,"
81 have kept myself on the verge
Of poverty that you should have
enough" the other returned bitterly.
&" / cannot give what / have not; and
If could would MOTTO dissipate on
sots and loose women "
Clement started forward with On
oath ; be held up bis cane almost as if
be would strike his father, who looked
at him coolly, without muscle CULVER
ing in his fine, white face.
"You cannot threaten it out of me-"
he said in voice unlike his own.
Clement let his arm fall moment,
and turned half away. As be did so
his glance caught on the Claude over
the mantelpiece he pointed at it with
his stick.
A" You ask where you can get money"
be said sneeringly. "If you cared to
save me at the expense Of your hobby,
there are thousands, they say, locked
up in that picture"
I" You think would sell my Claude
for you and your fancy for low girl?"
The words were scarcely out OF his
lips when, in a moment, a thing was
done that left its mark on both their
lives forever.
Clement himself did not realize what
the madness Of the drunken impulse Of
the instant had done till he saw that
the picture-his mothers heirloom -
was forever ruined, thrust through and
through with O madman's frenzy of
destruction.
He stood still as statue, staring at
his work, white and cold and sobered
with a CHASTITY shock of shame. As for
his father, he sat motionless, not speak
ing, looking silently at the destruction
of the comfort and hope of his life not
the destruction Of the picture, but the de-
struction of something thousand times
dearer and more sacred. The boy Gem
ma had left him-this, too, was a ruin,
like the stabbed canvas. The thrust
seemed to him to have gone through his
heart as well Strangely enough,
though, all the contempt, all the dis
gust were gone only vast pity and
and an unavailable ache Of forgiveness
remained; but he could not speak, his
tongue, which had lighted readily
enough on reproach, was still and dumb
Before he could move or say word,
the room was empty; Clement had
turned as if be felt the lash of the Fu-
ries, and was gone. His father started
after him, called ill vain. One door
after another slammed, and Dumaresq
was alone, standing stricken under the
ruined picture-the type Of the disaster
and dismay which had come upon him
in moment.
"Al that she left me; all that she
left me :" he groaned out, stretching
his arms above his head with piteous
appeal to the darkness and silence.
"Was it for this was born? o Gem
ma, my Comma, why did you leave US
to such life as this ?"
CHAPTER ".
Seven years had gone by somehow
seven long, monotonous, desolate years.
Louis Dumaresq had not thought Of
making any change in them, he seemed
incapable Of the effort. lie came home
to the silent rooms every night and sat
as be used to do. Even the Claude re-
NAMED in its frame, though its beauty
was gone forever, and the holes in it
would have astonished and Mortified
any one, ii there had been any to see
it. But Lonis Dumaresq lived her.
nit, and saw no one.
The only effort he had made beyond |
Just the necessary routine Of his work |
was in trying to get clue to the
Whereabouts Of his son. He inquired
everywhere. He advertised; he en-
ployed detectives; he visited every pos
sible acquaintance who might know
something Of him but it was in vain. |
Clement Dumaresq had gone under, as
so many young men do-as completely |
disappearing as if drowned in Lethe.
The only thing his father could dis
cover was that at the same time the girl |
'Tillie" had vanished also; the con-
cert hall knew her no more. lie had |
made some discoveries about her, and |
they had given him pang Of self-re-
r.oooh Thnu1h che copo AZ cuob n l