The free press., 1896-10-29

1
but ia the weird effect of its hangings,
mirrors, grotesqne carvings and myth
ical symbols it challenged the most
hardened skepticism. Throwing the
white light OF golden lamp upon my
face with powerful reflector, she
generalized upon my past life as any
| shrewd judge of human nature might
do. Then suddenly knitting her brows
and leaning closer she slowly spelled
out Marcia Arnold.
"'That is the name OF the girl you
will marry, she announced in dreamy
voice, and there you see her.
with that the lights faded to the
dimness of deep twilight, and there
followed the darkness of the dungeon.
Opposite me as if in life was the image
OF the sweet and beautiful woman Won
know as Mrs. Robeley. Never before
had been dominated by the tender
passion, but there was fathoms deep
in love with what might have been an
enchanting illusion or superb paint
ing. So deeply was impressed that
after leaving in bewilderment of
doubt / sketched the magnificent
creature SO indelibly impressed upon
my memory.
eighteen months later / was in
southern California enjoying the
medicinal virtues of the climate, and
finding subjects in some of the delight
full scenery. One morning l had my
easel at the edge of wooded precipice
overlooking n charming spread OF
landscape. The velvet carpeting of
grass and moss had failed to warn me
of approaching footsteps, and when |
turned it was the startled movement
caused by half-suppressed scream.
There were two ladies, the elder
anxiously supporting the younger,
whose face was blanched and whose
eyes we're fastened upon me as though
| were terrifying apparation. 1t was
the girl the Indian sorceress had
shown me in Paris; but what did she
know of me? As she sank down under
the weightpf her emotions, I fastened
to nearby spring for water, and
when returned her eyes we're upon
me in that same fixed and troubled
look.
"'What can be the matter, daughter?
You have always been SO strong and
vigorous.
" is your name Henry Morton?
asked the younger of me, without heed
ing the mothers question.
1t lis Wilton Robeley,' l r@pond-
ed quietly. At that instant il Nsshed
upon me that in q desire tr conceal
my identity I had given the name of
Henry Morton to the fortune teller.
Then with the inspiration of an anx-
ious lover I added: But l have
cousin of that name who bears strik-
ing resemblance to me.
"My immediate reward was revival
of strength and spirits on the part of
the young lady. The mother intro
dnced herself as Mrs. Gilsen, and then
said: Lucy, we had best get back to
the hotel.
"'Lucy Gilsen?' and yet it was her
presence that had been conjured up as
my bride to be. She was the girl OF
my sketch and my dreams. The next
day called at the hotel to inquire
after her. Icalled often. We walked,
drove, painted and boated together.
l came to know through the intuition
OF love that she was not Indifferent to
me. One evening as we drifted lazily
through the water lilies she handed
me q sketch of myself and asked: is
that picture OF Henry Morton?
"It's perfect" answered though
dumfounded. A shadow of anger
crossed her face, and she was about to
tear the picture TO pieces when
caught her hands and suddenly
showed the reproduction of herself
that had made in Paris. 1t was her
turn to be surprised, and when told
her of my experience at the fortune
tellcr's on Rue de Bouges, giving her
the date, she quickly exclaimed
"'Why. 1 was there with Marcia
Arnold. Mamma and l did Europe
that season, and we two girls visited
that Indian princess just for lark.
That was where saw Henry Morton,
whom was told fate had decreed as