The Penn's Grove record., 1888-09-22
my case no son of his should ever dis.

I grace him by turning painter. Ac-
cOrding I was sent to u large private
school for two or three years. spending
my vacations at home, where the love
| of the pencil proved too strong for my
sense of fllal duty, and L worked and
sketched all summer, except during
the rare occasions when my father or
older brothers came down for a few
weeks sojOurn.'"
"'One day, when 1 was nineteen, l
came in from a long walk, to find my
father standing in the middle OF the
little den l had chosen myself in the
tower. surrounded with, it seemed, to
me, everything, that l had ever drawn
or painted. We had quite a scene,
and the end of it was that l was Or
dered to clear out of the house, and
| never to darken the doors again. In
a storm of indignation and grief, l
| packed up a few things, and taking
what little money 1 had, started for
Dover, thinking that | would go to
France, to the little town where l had
once accompanied my mother. when
| she was ordered a change Of climate.
l had a little money which had come
to me from my grandmother, and upon
this l managed to live for some years,
and pursue my art studies both in
Paris and at Rome. l took the name
of Norton. from seeing it on some
American baggage, the night that 1
crossed the channel
AT length 1 began to long for a
sight of my old home, and determined
to go to London. l had had no con
munication with my family, though L
had kept the run OF them somewhat
through the English papers. and knew
that two of my brothers were married.
| came to England and spent nearly a
week In the neighborhood of my old
home without being recognized by any
of its inmates, except an old hound,
who used to be my companion The
family were in London, and some of
the servants were new, so, in company
with Leo, l revisited many of the
scenes of my lonely boyhood; and one
morning when there was. a wedding. at
the village church, l slipped in and
managed to reach the tower, where l
waited until every n was gone, and
then went down into the crypt where
my mother had been buried, auG' as
there was no evening service, spent the
night lying on the cushions In our old
| pew, with my head upon the one on
which she used to kneel. 1t was a
moonlight nightan the church seemed
very quiet and holy, and / felt more at
home than l had for years. Toward
morning | let myself out at the tower
door, and took an early train for Lon
don without bidding even old Leo
| good-by. l would have taken him
along. poor fellow, had it been posi-
ble.'h
"'1 hired some unpretentious rooms
in town, and was quite successful in
selling my pictures. Then came a dull
season, when for a long period l was
unable to obtain a commission, until,
at length, my funds were exhausted.
One night, Just at dark, when l had
spent the day IN trying to dispose of
some work, and had come home dis
couraged, Il carriage stopped beneath
my window, and soon l heard footsteps
coming up the long flight of stairs, and
then a knock at my door. l OPENED 1t
TO see a tall mar in dark livery who
bowed gravely and asked whether L
were Mr.. Norton. On my answering
in the affirmative, he handed me q note
written IN a bold masculine hand upon
heavy paper scented with some str ange
foreign perfume. 1t read.
If you are the Mr.. Norton who
painted a little picture called Judith
and Holofernes' which was sold at the
- gallery in March. and care for a
good commission, Will you accompany
the bearer of this noteY
No signature was appended.
EINVhn 10 tha nritar nf thiogtt I DctyaJ
The footman bowed as lie replied,
"'That my lady did not wish Inc to
say, SIR"
"'That is very strange 1 an swered.
| suppose tomorrow will be time
enough for my answerf'"
"'She babe me bring you this even-
ing, if possible, sir; the carriage is at
the door, and you can take any lus gage
you wish.'"
After a little hesitation, 1 aecid ed to
pack a few traps and my colors, and at
least call upon my wOuld-be pc tron,
and learn a little more of her project.
AS | turned to accompany him the foot
man said respectfully:
"'Beg pardon, sir, but my orders
were to bring you blindfoldod, !" at the
same time drawing a sllken scarf from
his pocket.
"'I set down my vallse and ex-
claimed, who and Whit is your mis-
tress, and what can she suppose / am
made of, to impose such conditions
upon mep'"
las you please. sir; but my lady is
anxious to have tho painting done, and
will pay a great price for it, If you
please her, and she will not have you
come in any other way"
"Indignant, l walked to the window
and looking out into the fast darkening
street, quickly reviewed my present
condition. Nc II cared, l thought,
whether | lived o !died, my affairs
were in bad shape, and my curiosity
was greatly aroused at this peculiar
offer. Surely, if l did not like the
looks of things upon my arrival | could
refuse to execute the painting, and
return home next day, none the worse
for having humored "my lady," Turn
ing back | picked up my valise and Sig
niied my Willingness to accompany the
footman. After locking my door, L
submitted to be blind-folded, and the
footman taking my traps in one hand,
OLlClCu llV hAo oNlANl aihA al w lAO
to the carriage. We rode, | know rot
how far or how long; all | am sure of
was that it was 8 O'Clock when we left
my rooms. At length the coach STOP
ped and l was helped to alight and
guided up a long flight of marble or
stone steps, through a hall and up a
slippery wooden staircase, through a
softly carpeted passage, up some wind
ing stairs into u room. when the foot
man respectfully removed the scarf,
and hoped | was one the worse for my
journey and that | would find every
thing comfortable now l had arrived.
Then he left me, locking the door upon
the outside.>"
"'The suite of rooms In which I
foand myself were most luxuriously
furnished, with rich, foreign furniture,
a delicate lunch stood on a side table
covered with a lne linen cloth, while
beyond opened an elegantly appointed
bed chamber. 1 felt as if l were In
the midst of a scene from "Morris's