The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1899-11-24
THE HEARTS MEMORY

| The Kingdom was in deS0latl0n. Inc
young king since he had lost his wife
| gave no attention to the affairs of
state but spent his days and nights
weeping before a portrait of the dear
one This portrait was the work of
his own hand. He had learnedAo paint
for the express purpose of executing it.
One day he few into a towering rage
and threatened to kill one of his cham
berlains who had dared to hint that it
would be we'll for him to think of mar
rying.
"Monstern' cried the inconsolable
widower. mo woman will ever seat
herself upon my throne unless she is
in every particular like the wife have
| lost"
| And well he knew that in saying this
he risked nothing. AS she still lived
in her frame of gold-dead, alas!-the
queen was so perfectly beautiful that,
search the world over, her equal could
not be found.
| She was a brunette, with long, glis-
| tening hair, flowing down like liquid
v.
rich ivory tint, eyes deep and black as
night and lips parted in a smile which
displayed all her teeth.
Many months slipped away, more
than a year, without bringing any
change for the better in the sad state
of affairs.
Once, however-it was at the hour
when the dawn paints the windows
with rose and blue-he turned toward
the window, listening to the song of a
passerby, song airy and fresh, pretty
and clear as the thrill of lark.
| He stepped forward, astonished,
| pressed his forehead against the glass
and looked out. A cry of delight al
most escaped him.
| He had never in his life seen any
thing so charming as that little shep-
herdess leading her flock to the
meadow.
She was blond her hair so golden
that it seemed to lend new brightness
to the sunshine rather than to borrow
luster from it.
She had forehead a little low and
pink as a rose. luminous eyes, bright
as the morning, and a smiling mouth
so small that even when her lips part
ed as she sang they revealed only five
or six little pearls.
The next day, in admiring the por-
trait, the king received a painful sur
prise.
He thought a moment and said to
himself: This is very strange. 1t must
be that the hall is damp and that the
air we breathe is not good for paint
ings for l. remember perfectly that
my queens hair was not so dark as it
looks now. No, surely, it was not
black, like liquid ebony. 1t shone here
and there with the tints of the morn
ing, not of the night"
He called for his brushes and pal
cite and hurriedly corrected the por-
trait, which had been so injured by the
dampness. There. Behold now the
golden hair which l loved so desper-
ately, which | will always lover
Three days later he was compelled to
acknowledge that the picture had
again suffered great deterioration.
Why was that forehead, like amber
!.
ory thanks to God, He was sure that
the queen had low brow, rosy and
fresh as the wild rose With few
strokes of his brush he brought the
golden hair lower and tinted the brown
a clear pink, and his heart was full of
an infinite tenderness as he gazed upon
the picture thus restored
But the day following matters We're
still worse. 1t was evident that the
eyes and mouth of the pictured face
had been changed by some accident or
some mysterious power.
His darling had never had those dark
| eyes, black as the night, nor that
, mouth, which opened so as to show
nearly all of her teeth. No! On the con
trary, the blue of the morning sky
, could not equal the azure of the eyes
which sweetly looked upon her love
and, as to her mouth, it was so small
that even when opened to sing or for a
! kiss it disclosed only few little pearls
For an instant he could have de
stroyed and cast at his feet the lying
image, but second thought controlled
him, and he grew calm again as he re-
hected that the injury could be re
paired.
Instantly he set himself earnestly al
his task. His brush was guided by his
faithful memories, and few hours
| later there smiled from the canvas a
young girl with eyes as blue as the dis
tant sky and mouth so small that il
it had been flower it would hardly
have held three drops of dew
The king looked upon his work in a
painful ecstasy. 1T is she! All, it is
really she" he breathed.
And, quite naturally, he had no objec
ton to offer when one day the cham
berlain, who had taken observations
through the keyhole, advised him t
take for his wife little shepherdess
who passed the palace every morning
singing song,
Surely, why not? For she resembleC
in every particular except that she
was perhaps little prettier-the por
trait Of the beautiful queen.-Cornel
Magazine.