The free press., 1897-07-08
The House Of the Ink Spot.
by LAv1NIA II. EGAN.

them to the light, found one to be the
portrait of delicate, sweet-faced boy
with timid blue eyes and fair hair.
Across the back of the canvas was
written: "Jean, aged 10 years" The
other picture was of lad seemingly
Is or 16 years ofage, a handsome, black
haired, black eyed boy, whose ex-
preston / did not like. The plaster
cast was the head of grinning Faun,
so stained and dust covered as to be
scarcely recognizable. Beside the
dust and CRIME the Faun was further
disfgured by a crack but poorly
patched, running entirely around the
head, cleaving the right cheek and
slanting downward through the mouth,
and dashing squarely across the face
so that it spattered both eyes, was
hideous black ink spot.
Here at last was clue to the mys-
terry, but what it would lead to / could
not even conjecture. Was it the
shimmering black spot that 1 had
seen so often now, which darted
across the Faun's face as 1 set it on
the high library mantel between the
two portraits? Perhaps it was only
passing shadow, for someone has
crossed the threshold.
"'Fo' Gawd, missy, honey, whar
bouts you git dem things?" said Aunt
ella as she entered. "Better put
em back whar dey come fun, hone:,
better put 'em back"
D., 4I,c 4,,,o 4ln n1J x,,o,,on hoJ
reached the fireplace and stood looking
up at the pictures.
'rPo' I'LL Massa Jean," she said ca
ressingly, ''po' I'LL lamb
"Who is the other boy, Aunt 'Cilla?"
I asked.
'Da's Massa Pierre, missy, OF
marster's older gran son." the old
woman answered, hesitating.
"Jean's brother?" / asked.
"No, no, missy" she said quickly;
''he's I'LL jeans cousin.
"Tell me about them"
'Dere amt much to tell, missy"
she said, slowly. 81 wish dere was
mo-. Dere amt nothin' tall but jess
dat de I'LL boys uster to live here wild
OF marster, an den when OF marster
died he lef' everything to Pierre an
po' I'LL Jean nothin'."
"How long ago has that been?" I
asked.
'Long ago." the old woman an
swered; "wher de boys wus li'll fell
lers, soon arter desc pictures was
painted.
"And what became of the boys,
Aunt 'Cilla?"
"De Lawd only knows, honey" she
said, earnestly. 81 wish | did. Massa
Pierre he went abroad, an spec he's
livin' dere yet. It's him You rent de
house FIN. He's got mo- houses here,
too, what de same agent looks arter.
But po' I'LL Massa Jean, / wish l
knowed where he is, po' lamb. L been
tryin' all desc years to fin out. Eff
knowed-" The old woman paused,
abruptly.
eff you knew, Aunt 'Cilla," I sug-
gested, "what then?"
''Nothin', honey; nothin'," remon-
strated the old woman, hurriedly, and
she left off caressing little Jeans pic
ture and left the room.
One day in late summer, with the
little Amelia for company, 1 was walk
ing along through narrow side street
above Canal, ''up town." as we had
come to call it, following the fashion
of our neighbors. 1t was hot and
sultry, with not breath of air to stir
the dusty leaves that hung limp on
the languorous trees, Suddenly on
the hot pavement before me danced
the black spot; then waving and skim
ming it rose and flashed before my
eyes, binding me. staggered and
would have fallen, but the little maid
caught me.
A moment later was in the cool IN
side Of the little shop before which
we had been passing, and kind-faced,
blue-eyed, white haired old man was
bending over me, feeling my pulse.
"You became faint, is it not, mademoi-
selle?" he asked, gently.
"Yes, it is the heat l think, said
L.
''Ah, yes, the heat no doubt, he
said with smile, s'and the malaria.
He gave me something to drink,
something that was very cool and very
acid, and by and by he called cab
and handed me into it as tenderly as
if I had been child. / glanced back
at him as he stood in the little Office
door, and read on the window beside
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