The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-11-28


have known ii all my life. 1t was the one
/ had seen at the window; there was the
same sad expression in the eyes and mouth;
then like a flash the expression changed
the girl started back. there came over her
race look of mingled amazement and Joy
tnen a quick glance of uncertainty. and
the gate was hurriedly closed again
MY GEAR! L heard voice say in mild
expostulation.
Yes, father, he-I think it but the
rest OF the sentence was lost in distance.
and footsteps following me- / passed the
row or little cottageS-the footsteps still fol-
lowed, and then as | opened the farm gate
SLOWLY half turned my head, and the two
figures passed on.
1t was with strange feelings that I re-
turned TO the farm. The look OF joy that
rad come over the girls face was so spon-
taneous, so genuine that felt bewildered
and then in calmer moments after had re-
nected little, knew that / must have
been mistaken for some one else, and /
cody.
The next morning-as usual walking
toward the trout stream-I saw two heads
in the window of the red brick house, and
my heart beat madly when once again
saw recognition come into those sad eyes.
Then too soon the face was withdrawn from
the window, leaving only the white marble
carving gazing down upon me.
The fish refused to bite that day; 1t may
nave been that my mind was not given
wholly to what I was doing. 1 found that
1t was useless to cast my line any longer
SO returned to the farm early in the after
noon.
1 was lounging comfortably in an arm
chair, absorbed in the latest novel, when
there was tap at the door and the maid
announced Mr.. Vernon"
A handsome old man stood before me, his
halr was silvery white, his features finely
cut, but there was a marked expression of
discontent on his face, that somewhat de-
tracted from his appearance of benignity.
"Trehearn,'' he said genially, and he held
out his hand. I'VE meet again, and | fear
a c
after what took place when we parted
but, he continued eagerly, and the hard
was wrong, wofully wrong, and / have now
ccme to tell you this; thought l recog-
nized you yesterday"
Il am afraid there is some mistake"
fastened to say. Il do not think we have
met before"
My visitor stared and looked intently at
me.
Surely it is Trehearn," he stammered in
his establishment
THAT is certainly my name,' replied
'but l cannot recall your face for the mo-
1T is only a few months since we last
met. am John Vernon; perhaps you ana
not catch my name, and you-why you
must be Theo Trehearn.'
Yes, the names are both NINE" I an
swered, still mystified. Then, as sudden
thought occurred to me. l added: "Iheo
sidered very like one another, but he died,
poor fellow only few weeks ago."
InGO QeaQ-Qead.' CrleQ MI. NeTHOH,
and he put his hand on the table to steady
himself. Then in a voice that trembled, he
said: you are marvelously like him in
looks in voice, in manner, and | trust you
will accept my apologies for having in
truded; but, Mr.. Trehearn, / was very fond
of your cousin; it has shocked me exceed
ingly to hear of his death"
l hurriedly remarked that it was by no
means the first time that had been mis-
taken for my cousin.
Come and see u.s. said Mr.. Vernon
COurfGOuSlV he leaving. I'VE shall
be very glad if you will
So, in this manner, was brought about
the one thing l had most lOnged for, an in
vitation to the red brick house.
The following day, full of hopes and ex-
pectatons, entered the gate. of Mr. Yer
mons house. was shown into an old
fashioned home-looking room with French
windows opening out on to cool lawn:
At one end of>the room were folding
closed, for from the next room there came
the sound of a woman sobbing; they were
heartrending sobs; then l heard distinctly
Mr.. Vernon saying: Yes, dear child, had
not the heart to tell you yesterday it is
true-he is dead" Then the voices ceased
as the servant announced my arrival.
The silence that followed was terrible
and honestly 1 wished at that moment that
the same punishment which befel the
bearer of ill-tidings in the olden days would
be also my fate
Presently the father and daughter came
In. l could not see that the latter had
been weeping. for there are some eyes that
are made more beautiful by tears, but the
sad far-off look in those blue eyes told me
how great had been her grief.
Then it occurred to me that my poor
cousin Theo had been in love with Phyllis.
and Phyllis with him-yes. Phyllis was her
name, and who could help not falling in
love with her, for she was as sweet and
as gentle as she was beautiful. 1t could
have given her little pleasure to see me,
bringing, as | must have done, many sad
memories to her; yet she was sympathetic
on hearing of my illness, pleased that the
village of which she was so fond should
have done me good. And there was some
thing in her manner of speaking, a GER
tain friendliness which made me feel that
l had known her long before this, but oc-
casionally a most captivating shyness made
me remember how short our acquaintance
had BEEN
After little while Mr.. Vernon preached
the subject of scufpturing; he was en-
thusiast, it appeared, and hearing that l
was an amateur of the art, and even had a
studio of my own, he led me to his own
studio. where there were figures and busts,
both finished and unfinished. This brought
to my mind the white carving in the win
dow, and l could not refrain from remark
ing that l had noticed 1t in that position.
Yes, it had been there for some months,
they said.
Am 1 wrong in thinking that it is your
likeness, Miss Vernon? asked, and,
strangely enough, while l was speaking, l
felt instinctively that there was a history
connected with this marble head.
Mr.. Vernon glanced quickly at his daugh-
1T is mine," she said, gently. but Won
der that YOU recognize il; it never changes"
Then suddenly, without any warning, her
eyes filled with tears, her mouth qu1vered
and she walked slowly to the window.
Could my question have caused this? Oh,
how | hated myself at the bare thought.
What had / done? l longed to throw my
self at her feet and implore her pardon.
In an unnatural voice she exclaimed, Il
see Gyp scampering over the borders on
purpose to annoy the gardener" and Open
ing the long French window she stepped
out on to the lawn.
Angry with myself and terribly per-
picked for / could not be at all sure that
/ had not been the cause of Phyllis's tears,
1 bid Mr.. Vernon goodbye and hurried
away. | had no appetite for supper that
evening, and the farmer wife-kind soul
touched food.
You're not i'll. sir, hope?" she asked.
No, l was quite well.
''Mebbe it's the food?"
/ assured her that the food could not
have been better, but that was not in
the least hungry.
Still there seemed something that troubled
the farmers wife. She was wonderfully
long in removing the dishes, the taking
away OF two plates seemed to necesState
two Journeys and to fold up the cloth in
the ironed creaSeS was apparently matter
for long contemplation.
You will pardon my asking" she said
when the cloth had been satisfactorily
folded, and put away in a drawer, If you
are the Mr.. Trehearn that stayed not so
many months ago up at the large red house,
Mr.. Vernon's / should say. L wouldn't be
asking, sir she added, smoothing her
apron down, ''only l was Miss Phylliss
maid then, and did so wish as you'd come