The Springdale news., 1889-10-04
CHATTER V.

The gallery l never can forget it, or rather, the memory of those faces will never slip from my mental vision.
 There were portraits on the walls, in groups and in pairs. Some of them were noble-looking and of pleasing countenance, while others looked down at me with a frowning face, as if to say: Why do you intrude on our silent existence"
 There were faces smiling forth from their wealth of long, sunny curls, and stern visages sporting powdered queues and look ing coldly down over their great, stiff ruffs with an aristocratic stare.
 viewed each face with deep interest as the old housekeeper gave me it's name and history as far as she knew. as we went from one to another down the long, narrow apartment.
 "Here," she said, in voice of pitying g tendern ess, as she crossed the floor to the opposite wall, ''here are the portraits of the puir, unfortunate childer as has bin sint away from Haythurleigh by the therible distiny ov the house.'
 She paused before row of portraits with their faces turned to the wall and folded her arms, while the great pearly tears rolled down her Withered cheek. A strange | yearning sensation seized me, supplanted | by n nervous, chilling agitation. It was the first time 1 had felt my self-possession leaving me since came to the Hall; stand | ing there before the group of il-fated sons and daughters branded with disinheritanee, a flood of emotions indescribable rushed over me, and I mutely motioned Peggy to go on.
 Gently, then, she turned the face coming first in order over. A bright face met my cNrl lat btafi vic Ina half playful expression. "Lionel," said Peggy, ''an' that's all Oi know ov i'm, be- cause his curse fell long forninst me loife " The next, beautiful face with dark, ex. pressive eyes and perfect mouth pro claimed her the daughter of proud fam. ily. Agatha, ,' said Peggy, wiping off the dust with a earessing movement. "An' it's her, ma'am that ran away with young Friuch Count, because the family couldn | bear tEc loixes ov q Frinehman. She died, poor thing, away off in France, somewhere on the banks O the Seine An she niver coon back ;.fthur her family forbid her iver shoWiu' her proud, wilfuI face agaln at the Hall.2
 There were two more portraits of the broken -hearted disinherlted children who had gone out from the doors, and of whose fate none at the Hlll cared to know after the gates had been shut against them. The next face was that of q handsome young man, whose dark, soulful eyes looked into mine as if to say, pity me- Allan Clarkson murmured, as the fascinating orbs appealed to us, s'puir Allan he was sint away in disghrace, ma'am, all because he loved . cottage lassie insthead ov the wan his family chose out ov the high earcles.n
 Did he eyer come baeki' asked pity. ing this promising young face so early clouded because of vanity.
 Och hoon." moaned Peggy, "an' Allan was niver the wan to come back ma am. He married the lassie and took her with him whin he left the country, ne Leddy.'
 And you know nothing more of his his tory theu?a' 1 asked catching q last glimpse of the dark. honest eyes as she turned the portrait back to the wall.
 No moren ye know oy the dead, ma am only | rumor now an thin, an rumors don't count for anY thing. '
 fTn pt faNTrKrt-rD