The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1894-02-14
A Transformed Portrait.
BY JAMES BUCRHAM.

Louisiana where l had planned to
spend the winter of my content-the
winter following my engagement to
Louise Ericsson. 1t was large, state
ly, and aristocratic, but so old, so an
tiquated in all its appointments, Y h
such faded, dingy carpets and furni-
ture, such worm-eaten and Clipped
door-frames and wainscotings, that /
hardly knew whether to be proud or
ashamed of my lodgings. But of one
thing | was convinced-the old house
afforded just the environment for
man who was writing creole story.
That was what brought me to Louisi-
ana, and was also the reason of nv
going to lodge with Madame Des.
ianier, in the old Deslanier mansion,
four miles from the town of Winn-
field
The house had but two stories, and
the room assigned me on the second
floor was almost oppressively large
and high-for there is n certain op-
prcssiveness about lack of space. As
L sat in my easy-chair, that first
evening, with three candles burning
at my elbow in old-fashioned silver
candlcsticks, and looked up at the
dim, faded frescoes, and around
me at the shadowy, tapestried walls,
L felt with melancholy distinctness
my own insignificance and loneliness.
The candles-which were all Madame
Deslanicr had in the way of illumina-
tors-diffused mere halo of light
around my chair, while outside and
above that dim circle swan and
whirled the mysterious twilight. 1t
seemed to me to flow in currents
round and round the room-silent,
slow, unceasing.
"Shall ever overcome this uncanny
feeling?" L thought. "Shall / ever
be able to write, or even to sleep, in
thls Bnostly ola placer
L lit cigar and settled back, deter
mined to throw off the depressed and
fcarsome sensations which possessed
me. As my eyes gradually became
more accustomed to the outer circle of
twilight, began to note my surround
ings more in detail, especially the
three or four old paintings that hung
around the walls One of these in
particular attracted my attention. 1t
was the life-size portrait of girls
face-a dark Spanish type of beauty,
with lustrous eyes and hair, full GRIM
son lips, and checks of olive and
glow with actual life.
This portrait hung directly in front
of me as | sat, but higher than the
rest; and, in the dusk just below the
lofty ceiling, what wonder imagined,
now and then, that the beautiful thing
had lfe--imagined saw the eyelids
open and close, the eyes beam with
changeful meanings, and evanescent
shadows of smiles fit across the beau
tiful lips.
] lay back in my easy-chair for
long time looking straight up into the
lustrous eyes, which looked straight
down into mine. The face was COM
pany to me in my loneliness ;and it was
such a strangely delightful sensation,
that of looking silently and at ones
leisure into real eyes, burning with
real emotions and scintillating with
real feeling. But
flung the stub of my cigar into
the smouldering CRATE and rose hastily.
What would Louise think if she could
see me gazing in that way even into
painted eyes. 1t was wrong. How
would be able to assure her-or my
self-that it meant nothing whatever;
that there was not the slightest danger
of my ever becoming enamored of the
creole beauty whose portrait hung be-
fore me, and then in mad desire of my
ideal, setting forth to seek the face
which had driven my sweetheart from
my memory.
l gazed no more at the portrait that
night and by morning the thought of
it had vanished from my mind. / was
little In my room that day. but whom