The record-union., 1896-11-15

distinct. The picture of the old stair
way and of the window behind was of
itself SO quaint as to be suggestive of all
sorts of echoes of a past replete with
romantic associations; but the substan-
tial yet shadowy girl, pausing in her de-
scent to listen SO intently, to gaze SO
fiXedly into what l, the photographer,
knew to be vacancy and desertion,
made the picture mysterious and
ghostly.
Then she was striking, beautiful
girl. Her dress was simple white, a
rose at her throat her figure we'll
rounded and supple, it's grace accentu-
ated by the pose; her features were reg
ular, her mouth exquisitely cut, and her
lips slightly apart; her large, full, black
eyes haunting in their intensity, making
you long to catch them if but for mo-
lnent and to hold them to yourself. The
fascination Of face and expression was
emphasized against a background of
masses of black hair, that swept un-
confined to the waist as it willed. Every
shade of suggestion in features and eyes
was thus brought out in startling dis
finctneSS. 1t gave a look of imperious
protest to the young woman as if she
had been called hastily from the toilet,
had shaken out her hair with an impa-
tent toss of defiance, yet had not VEN
fured after all to answer in person on
the chance of unexpected encounters,
and was waiting for information when
she was caught and photographed on
the quaint, mysterious, old stairway.
Yet those eyes-they could never have
teen lighted with that haunting inten-
sity through a mere question of conven-
tti' nal proprety. And that mass of hair,
that dainty white gown, that rose
very real, very substantial. yet so
ghost-like when you looked through
them to see the leaves. and the window
panes, and the sunlight, as distinctly
rose, or face, or girl, at all. And those
eyes-you could not look through them,
ut you could look into them and into
I, EN- forever
have no idea how long I looked and
studied the plate. 1t was probably an
hour, for it was after 10 o'clock when
heard one of my cousins calling to me.
She said she had called a number of
times before 1 answered. We were to
have a dinner party at the house that
evening, and l had promised the girls to
go with them in search of some gentian
for the table. So I put the plate care
fully away, but the picture was still in
my mind. The wagon was brought
around, and off we started. AS usual, |
was the driver, a careful one, at least,
if I do say it for myself. But that day
7 gave my cousins no small cause for
uneasiness. 1 made short turn driv-
ing out of the gate that nearly upset
US and that was only the first of num-
Der of like pieces of carelessness. They
commented on it in no pleasant phrases.
The dinner, they said, was a great
success. / took out perhaps the belle of
the place, q bright, clever girl, who
could talk charmingly as well as look
SO. I was so distrait that she gave me
up in despair, and had her revenge in
stealing away the young man on the
other side from the girl he had taken
cut. She, toO-my girl-was dressed in
simple white and wore a single superb
rose at her corsage. l spent the time in
speculating whether, if / could quietly
reach around and remove a few neces-
sary pins letting her hair down-it
looked very heavy it would give half
the effective background to face dress
and rose which her hair gave to the
girl in my picture. She chanced to turn
suddenly and caught me staring SOL
emnly at her back hair. She naturally
though something was wrong. that 1t
was coming down, and with a shade OF
annoyance passed her hand rapidly
ever it, as women often do. Finding it's
integrity unimpaired and noticing a
smile on my face, she eyed me scorn-
fully and said:
by the way, Mr.. Terry, can you tell
me why men with the poorest shaped
heads always grow bald the youngest?"
She gave me no chance for a reply.
but resumed conversation with the
other I was shedding hair in some
spots. It was the only incident Of our
talk that I remember.
After the ladies had withdrawn, coffee
and cigars We're served for the men in
the library. | sought out old Judge
Bradstreet, the garrulous old antiquary.
Why is it, Judge Bradstreet," / asked,
as we settled in a corner by ourselves,
that nothing is done with Oak Knoll?
What is the trouble?'
Hush" he said, looking around cau-
tiously, you know that is a tabooed
subject here
'-Yes. l know" I said. '"That is why
I ask you. / do not dare ask them here,
and I do want to know very much"
well. ] don't know any good reason
why you shouldn't" said the Judge, af-
ter a pause Che dearly loved to tell a
story. Listen" he continued, "and /
will talk low. 1t was in war time that
Colonel Slade, who married your aunt's $
sister, moved into Oak Knoll, after re-
modelling 1t somewhat. He was an Eng
lishman who lost a good deal of money
by the stoppage of trade with the South
and used to talk unbearably of the
North and its conduct of the war. He
drew out Of all his business and set
tied down here until it should be peace
again He had one daughter a stately
girl with black hair, great eyes, a lovely
mouth and a fine figure, who fell in love
with a young officer in the Union army
despite her fathers prejudices. The old
gentleman did not give her much peace
about him. although he loved her at
bottom better than all else in the world
Wei. they got news one day that the
girls betrothed, whose name / forget
il was something like Walker-had been
DANGEROUSLY wounded and was in a
rebel hospital tent. The girl was wild
70 go to him, and the old gentleman ac-
tuany took her He had influential
Southern friends, and after innumerable
difficulties they got through the lines to
him They found him barely alive, with
nothing but the rudest sort of a cot to
lie on. no comforts, and the worst apol-
ogy for attendance and nursing He
was breathing his last when they
reached him, and died without recogniz-
ing them-apparently the victim of lack
of proper care.
''The girl was completely heart
broken. Her father said she hardly ut