Loading...
The Brussels Post, 1887-6-10, Page 731711113 10, 1887, I tarnmNn4'.? IS t_e7 te_t1f e s .' _ ._ 'w u nRniTffiGfi Ra .asrsrarstr�-."?rr.�,straetasra,^c-^o^ ars . 'rFIE rrRUSSELS POST a�:e.xtwrc••„ars:a:vAe+r,-rrrrrzM TII t U 11U;1a f DAUGHTEr when, unable to lie tossing in her bed, J sho would spring up, and, heedless of the Olt freezing air, pace her room till morning, The wild fire in her eyo, even in the TEE ISTRBSS ON RICHMOND NOME, A TA7'.S7 OF 4FDiOPfG AND lirCilK< Rall , By llrs. MAY AGNES I+L1 ING, Author er"Lost Ear a Woman'', Mona Parer', Nerrat," Etc., amt. "I have got a headache," said Georgia, pressing her hands to her throbbing temples dizzily, "Oh, you have l Being in this hot room all day has caused it. Do let mo bring you your things, and come out for a walk. It is a beautiful eveniug, though cold, and the air will do you good. dome. I'll go with you, Miss Randall. Shall I go and get your things ?" "You are very good," said Georgia, faintly ; "I think I will ; I feel almost suffocated." Maggie bounded away, and the next moment came flying bank, rolled uta in a huge shawl; and her pretty lace eclipsed in an immense quilted hood. She held another shawl and hood in her hands, and before Georgia knew where she was, she found herself all muffled up and ready for the road. " Now, then," said Miss Maggio, briskly ; "tomo along! Seo if the wind won't blow roses into those white cheeks of yours 1" Passing her arm around Georgia's waist, Maggio drew her with her out of the house. The day was cold, and clear, and bright, and windless ; a frosty, sun. shiny, cold afternoon. The sun, sinking in the west, shed a rod glow over the snow.covorod fields, and gave a golden brightuess to the windows of tho house. Some of the old wild spirit, that nothing but death could ever entirely crush out of Georgia's gipsy heart, rose as the cold, keen frosty air cooled her fevered brow. The languid eyes lit up, and she started at a rapid walk that kept Maggie breathless, and laughing, and running, and quite unable to talk. "Oh, my stars 1" said Maggie, at last, as sho stopped, panting, and leaned against a fence. "If you haven't got the seven -league boots on, Miss Randall, then I should like to know who has You ought to go into braining as a fe- male pedestrian, and you would make your fortune in twenty -five -cent pieces. I declare I'm just about tired to death." "Why, how thoughtless I am 1" said Georgia, whose excited pace had scarcely kept time with her excited thoughts ; "I forgot you could not walk as fast as I can. Suppose you sit down and rest, and I will wait." "All right, then," said Maggie, as she clambered with great agility to the top of the fence and sat down on the top rail ; "but Hold, Macduff, who comes here 2" A sleigh came dashing along the road, drawn by a small, spirited horse that seemed fairly to fly. It was occupied by a gentleman wearing a large black cloak, and a fur cap drawn down over his brow. As ho reached them be turned round and glanced carelessly toward the rls. For one instant his face was turned fully toward them, the next he was whirling away out of sight. "Oh, how handsome 1 oh, isn't ho beautiful ?" exclaimed Maggie, clasping her hands enthusiastically ' "such splen- did eyes, and such a pale, handsome face, edemas a glorious driver. My 1 how I would like to bo in that sleigh with him. T would—wouldn't you, Miss Randall?" She turned to Georgia, and fairly leaped off the fence in amazement to see her standing rigid and motionless, with widely 'distended eyes and white, startled face, gazing after the object of Maggie's admiration. "Why, Miss Randall 1 Miss Randall!" said Maggie, catching her arms, "what's the matter ? Do you know him 2" "Lot us go back, Miss Leonard," said Gergia, passing her hand over her oyes as if to dispel some wild vision. Know him! Yes, as if they had parted but yesterday. Could Georgia forget Charley Wildair? CHAPTER XIX. nEsOLA'EION. "Aad the stately ships goon To the haven under the hill, But oh for rho touch of a vasishod]land, And the sound of a voice that is still." —TNNNXSON. All that night Georgia's thoughts ran in a new direction—Chailey Wildair. Yes, she has been face to face with the living, breathing friend of her childhood once more, The mystery that sur. rounded him rose up an her mind, and again she found herself wondering what he had done, what crime ho had com- mitted. Evening after evening she walked out in the same place, in the hope of seeing him again, when she was determined to speak to him at all hazards ; but in vain ; he mune not, no one knew or could tel l her anything of him who had passed that evening. As day after day wore on, she began to re- gard his appearance almost in the light ga of an apparition, something her dime tion that no one was to be told. tiered imagination had conjured up to Then she voluntarily offered to paint mock her, and at last the hope of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Leonard and the three •hint again faded away. children, and, at Jennie's earnest desire, And so a month passed on. Oh! that her little tortoise -shell .kitten was so, dreary, endless, monotonous mouth, diced into gifting still long enough to be with nothing but the dull routine of the taken too. This last was a labor of love, scsaool-room day after day. for, strangely enough, it brought bank There were times when Georgia softened thoughts of the happy days would start wildly up, feeling as though spent in ramping through the cottage by she worn going mad ; and evening after the sea with Betsey ,periwinkle. evening, when the last lesson was said, And a faint, sad, dreary smile broke she would throw her shawl over her over Georgia's face as she painted the 1 shoulders and hurry out into the cold little b]inkini; animal, and thought of all t wintry weather, and ' walk and walk the old associations it called forth. It for miles with dizzy rapidity to cool the brought back Miss Joruah% and little a fever in her blood, Night after night, presenoo of others; bespoke the oonsun. Mg fever in her veins that seemed dry ing up the very Made of life in her heart. Had she been loading some ex. citing, turbulent life it would have been better for her; but this stagnaub mono. tony seemed in a fair way of makiug her a maniac before long.. There were times her er w o very cry soul would cry out in pane alienate yearning for what she had Met —times when an uncontrollable ilrpubse to fly, fly far away from this phaco, to search over the world for him elm hail left, and, in spite of all that had passed, to cling to him forever, would seize icer and she would struggle and wrestle with the fierce desire, until, from very bodily weakness, she world sink down in a very stupor of despair. It seemed to her as if a dark doom had hoeu hanging over her from childhood and had fallen at last, a widow in fate though not in fact, au outcast from all the world, and almost with the brand of murder on her brow, But oh, if she had sinned, was the expiation not heavier than it deserved ? A life of desolation, a death unoheered by a single friendly face, to live forgotten and die forlorn, that was her doom. Poor Georgia 1 what wonder that, frenzied and despairing, the cry of her heart should be, "My punish- ment is heavier than I can boar." The Leonards hardly knew what to make of Georgia. Mr. Leonard looked pityingly on the white face, so eloquent of wrong and misery, and expressed his opinion that she had come throughmoro than people thought. Mrs, Leonard was rather puzzled about the young gover- ness' when in her wild paroxysms she would boar startling legends of her walk. ing through frost and snow for miles to. gether, and would hear a quick, rapid footstep pacing up and dowaanp her cham- ber the hve•]ong night, and'i!would see the wild, lurid fire in her great black eyes, she would give it as her opinion that Miss Randall was not quite right iu her mind; but when this mood would pass away, and reaction would follow, and when she wouldnote the slow, weary steps and pallid cheeks, and spiritless eyes, and lifeless movements, sho would retract, and say she really did not know what to make of her. Miss Felice snappishly said it was all affectation ; the governess wanted to be odd, and mysterious, and interesting ; and if she was her father she world pat an end to the long walks, or know why. But these little remarks were prudently made when Georgia was not listening; for if the truth must be told, Miss Leonard stood more than slightly in awe of the dark, majestic, melancholy gov- erness. Miss Maggio declared it was "funny," but she rather liked Georgia, though after the first week dr two she voted her "awful tiresome, worse than Felice," and left her pretty much to her- self. Icer pupils liked her, but were rather afraid of her iu her dark moods, and, like the rest of the household, stood considerably in awe of her, wrapped as she was in her dark mantle of unvarying gloom. During the first month of her stay, Georgia had spoken to no one but the household. 1 isitors there were almost every day, but Georgia always fled at their approach, and both the Misses Leonard, conscious of her suporior beauty, had no desire to bo eclipsed by their queenly dependent, and were quite willing sho should bo invisible on those occasions. Since she had heard Dick Curtis was a friend of the family she had dreaded the approach of every stranger, and always sent some excuse for not appearing at table at such times. Therefore, sometimes whole days would pass without her leaving her own room and the school -room. As the children's study ouly comprised five hours each day, Georgia had a great deal of spare time to herself. This she had hitherto spenteither in her long, wild walks or in her dark reveries; but now, of late, a now inspiration had seized her. Ono day, to amuse little Jennie, she had seized her pencil and drawn flex portrait, and the drawing proved so life- like that the whole family were fn trans. ports. The Miss Leonard immediately made a simultaneous rush for the school. room, and overesholmed Georgia with praises of her talent, and pleadings to sketch theirs, too, And Georgia, feeling a sort of happiness in pleasing them, readily promised. The drawings were commenced and finished, and Greorgis had unconsciously idealized and render. ed them so perfectly lovely, yet so true to the originals, that they, in Mich ecstatic admiration, insisted that they should be perpetuated in oil. Finding the occupation so absorbing and so con. genial, Georgia willingly consented, and sittings were appointed every day until the portraits were finished. And finished they were at last, and set in gorgoons frames, and with eyes sparkling with de. light, the Misses Leonard saw them. selves, or rather their etherealized coun- terfeits, banging in splendor on the drawing -room walls, and calling forth the most enthusiastic praistis of the un- known artist's skill•f rein their guests, for Geor 'abed only paieted them on condi. Emily Murray—dear little Emily Mur ray, whose memory always came to hoz lilt the soft sweet minis of an Eolieu harp amid the repose 01 a storm. Sho woudorod vaguely if they missed hex much, and what the would think of her flight, and whether they would shudder inlorror when they heard what sho had done, or whether they would thick lov. ingly of her still. Some day, when they bear I am dead perhaps they will forgive me, and love me again," she thought, with something of the simplicity of the child Georgia, as a gentler feeling came to her heart than had visited it for many a day. Some- how, Emily's memory always did soften her and bring back a gentler mood. In her wildest storms of anguish and re morso, in the darkest hour of her dose lation, that sweet, calm, holy young face, with its serene brow and seraphic blue eyes, would arise and exorcise her gloom, and leave a calmer, softer feeling behind. Ono day, on the occasion of Mrs. Leonard's birthday, the children had a holiday, and Georgia was left to herself. Seating herself at the window, she began to draw faces from memory. Tho tint was a long, angular one, with projecting bones and sharp features, sunken oyes, and thin, compressed lips, the hair drawn tightly back and gathered in an uncompromising hard Isnot behind. An intelligent, dignified -looking cat sat coni. • posedly at her feet deeply absorbed in thought. Any ono could recognize, in these portraits, Miss Jerusha and our old friend Betsey Periwinkle. "Dear Miss Jerusha 1 dear, good friend l" murmured Georgia, softly, as ehe gazed at the picture. "I wonder will I ever see yon again. I wonder if you have grieved for my loss, and if you ever, these wild, stormy nights, think of your lost Georgey. Dear Miss Jerusha, may Heaven reward you for your kindness to the poor orphan girl." The next was a fairer face, a small head set on au arching neck; a low, smooth, childish brow; small, regular, dainty features; sweet, wondering, wist- ful eyes; a little dimpled thin, and softly smiling lips, just revealing the pearly teeth within. It might have been the face of an angel had it not been Emily Murray's, spiritualized, as everything Georgia's magic pencil touched was. Such a lovely, child -like, innocent face as it was, smiling upfrom the paper with such a look of heavenly calm sad seren- ity, that no breath of worldly passion had ever disturbed. "Oh, dear little Emily ! dear little Emily 1" said Georgia, in a trembling voice. "My good angel1 if I had only been like you. Calm, peaceful, happy little Emily! what will you think of me when you hear what I have done!". She hesitated a moment before she commenced the next, and then, as if a sudden inspiration had seized her, she rapidly began to sketch. Soon there ap. peered a noble, intellectual -looking head —a high, broad, princely brow—square oyebrcws, meeting across the strongly marked cost—large, strong, earnest oyes —a fine resolute mouth, and square, re- solute chin. Heavy waves of dark hair were shaken' carelessly off the noble fore- head, and it needed nothing now but the thick black mustache, and the calm, handsome, kingly face of Richmond Wildair Iooked at her from the paper. In the seemingly fathomless eyes there shone a look of sorrowful reproach, and a sort of sad sternness pervaded the whole face. The very lips seemed to part and say, "Oh, Georgia, what have you done 2" and, with a great cry of "Oh, Richmond 1 Richmond 1 Richmond 1" sho flung down her pencil, then threw herself on her faoo on the couch, and for the first time in years, for the first time almost singe she could remember, she wept, wept long, passionately, and bitterly. It was a strange thing to see the stone- like Georgia weep. In all her misery she had shed no tears ; in her stormy childhood she had wept not, and the tears of childhood aro an easily flowing sprig yet now she Tay, and wept, and sobbed wildly, passionately, vehement- ly, wept for hours, until the very source of her tear e s seemed dried up, and would d flow no longer. And from that day Georgia grow calmer and more rational than she had ever been before. It was strange the consolation she derived from those "counterfeit presentiments" of those she loved, and yet it was so. For hours she would cit gazing at them, and sometimes she would fancy Emily's smiling lips seemed saying, 'Hope on, Georgia 1 be- fore morning dawns night is ever dark. est." The Leonards, grateful for being made such handsome people, were quite so- licitous in their efforts to make the gov- erness comfortable. Georgia hada heart easily won by kindness, and as time passed on, sho seemed, for the present at least, to grow reconciled to her lot. Perhaps the secret of this was that she had begun an achievement that had long been in her thoughts, and in which she was so completely absorbed as to be for a time quite insensible to outward things. This was a large painting of Hagar in the Wilderness, a wild, weird thing, on which she worked night and day in a fever of enthusiasm. Had any one seen her, in the still, mystic watches of the night, bending over her easel, her dark hair flowing be- bind her, her wild eyes blazing, her whole face inspired—they might have taken her for the very geeing of art .do. scended on earth, She scarcely knew what was her design in painting this; probably, at the time, she lied none, but a love of the work itself a love that in. creased to a perfect fever as it grew under her brush, None of the family stew aught g t of it, and they puzzled hemsoives in vain wondering what dm could be doing to keep alight burning o late every night. It was drawing toward the close 'of February tbut the severest snow storm that they had duripg the season fell. For nearly a week it raged with unceas- ing violence, and several ladice tend gen. Women from the city were etoree.bound at IsIr. Leonard's, During their . stay, Georgia, as usual, absented herself from the. table .and drawin .room, and the young ladies were so busy with their guests that even Miss. Maggie found no time to visit ber. Georgia did not re: gree this circumstance, as it gave her more time to devote lei her painting, and secured her from interruption. One wild, snowy evening, when it was too dark to paint, and too soon to light the lamp, Georgia passed from her room and walked swiftly in the direction of the library in search of a book. She knew the library was seldom visited, especially in the eveni when other amusements ruled the bout, and so, not fearing detection, she went in, found the book she was in search of, and, seating herself within a deep bay window, drew the crimson damask ourtains close, and thus shut in on one side by red drapery and on the other by the clear glass, through which she could watch the drifting snow, she began to read. It was a volume of pewee by W. D. Randall, the young poet, whose fame was already resounding through the laud. Such a sweet, dreamy, delicious volume as it was 1 Fascinated, absorbed, Georgia strained her eyes, and read and read on as long as one ray of light re- mained, unable to tear herself away from the enchanted pages, and feeling as if she were transported to some Ar- cadia, some fairy -land, by the magic power of the poet's pen. At last it grew toe dark to read an- other word, and then she closed the book and fell into a reverie of—the author. She knew he was a visitor at the house, and for once her curiosity was strongly excited. She resolved to see biro. She would make Maggie point him out the next time he came, and see for herself what manner of man this young genius was. There had been a steelportrait of him in the book, but Miss Felice had carefully cut it out and preserved it for her own private use, as something not to be profaned by vulgar eyes, to the violent iudignation of Miss Maggie.. While she still sat musing dreamily, the was startled by hearing thedoor flung open, and then a gleam of light flashed through the certain. Hoping it might be some servant to light the gas, she glanced out between the folds, and saw Miss Felice herself, standing beside a tall, handsome, disbinguished•looliing young man. Retreat was now out of the question. Georgia would not have encountered the stranger for worlds, lest he should happen to recognize her. Trusting they only came for a book and would soon go away again, she resolved to sit still. "And so you will translate 'Uucline for me, Mr. Randall," said Miss F whose dress was perfection andwhose face was brilliantrvth smiles. it sa. Oh that will be charming. `.the ohildren's governess teaches German, but T never could get her to read 'Undine.' This, then, was the poet. At other time she would have become pletely absorbed in looking at him the mention of Undine sunt a pa her heart, and she sank back in her seat and bowed her face in her hands. sweet, sorrowful story of the German poet seemed so like her own—she was the Undine, Freddy Richmond was the designing Bertalda, and Huidbrs,d— oh, no, no l Richmond was not like him. "It is a lovely tale. You do weal to learn German, Miss Leonard, if only for the 'sake of reading 'Undine'' in original," said Mr. Randall. "I have something else that is lovely here," said Miss Leonard, looking arch. "Yes—yourself," said Mr. Resided]. "No, no; of course not—W. D. doll's poems." "And you call them lovely 1 W011, I gave you credit for bettor taste, Mies Felice. "Oh, they are charming, sweet, so nice 1" cried Miss Felice, clasping }ler hands in a small transport. A smile broke ov • r the handsome lace o of the poet. How pleasant it must be for a poet to hear his poems called glee. "Well, never mind them ; let us 'Undine'," said Mr. Randall. "Pm sure I've sat up nights nearly cried my eyes out over beautiful poem'Rogina,' Did you ever see any one like the 'Regina' you scribed so delightfully 2" "les," said Mr. Randall, a son shadow coming over his face; "once, in my childhood, I saw such a one, a 'queen of noble nature's crowning'; whose every motion seemed to say; "'Meade Regina'- 'I iuovo a queen.'" olice, a'3y tom - but ng to The n the Ram - "No, fend and that do- t of cue "Dear me," said Miss Felice, "how nice 1 I really should like to see her.. I suppose she will be Mrs. Randall some day," and Miss Felice, looking up between her ringlets, did the artless to'. perfection. Mr. Randall smiled again; it was evident he read Miss Felice like a book. "Hardly, I am afraid. I don't ap- piove of the Regina style of women for wives myself. SometWegless imposing would tedb me bettor—a nice little tbibg like --1 Miss Felice had oast down her longe lashes, and stood looking as innocent and guileless as a stage angel ; but hero. Mr. Randall most provokingly paused and began caressing a hideously ugly little Scotch terrier that had folloivod him into the room. Geer is had to smile in sppite of her, self at the provoking nenchaIance of Ilio poet, more particularly as Miss Police turned half pettishly away, and then, remembering that her rola was to bo sweet add simple, she gave him a snail. lug glance and returned to the charge. "And those verses on Niagara are 50 pretty! Pepe took Maggie and me to the Falls last summer 1 And I did like them so much 1 Oh, deer me 1 they are ae sweet 1" Mr. Randall laughed outright. Miss Felice locked up m astonishment, but just at that moment little Jennie came running in with something hi her hand. "Oh, Licio 1 look what I have got— sueil a lovely picture of the most heauti- 1sllady ever was!. Just look." "What au angelic faced" impulsively exclaimed Mr. Randall; " a perfect Madonna 1 And only a penail drawing, tool Why, Miss Leonard, this is some. thing exquisite—a perieeb little gem 1 T cover saw anything more lovely." ""Where did you get it, Jennie," said Mies Felice. "fa the hall; it's Miss Randall's—she dropped It coining oat of the school. room. rat going to ask her to give it to me; she can make plenty more." "Is it possible the artist resides here ? You don't mean to say that—" "Ol;, it's only the governess," said Miss 'olive "alae. draws and paints very well indeed. By the way, she's a namesake of our too,Mr.IL Randa Yes, I see now it is one oher drawings ; T could tell them anywhere." Theoat was gazing inof p gaz! g a sort rap- ture at the picture. The soft eyes and sweet, beautiful lips seemed smiling upon him—the face seemed living and radiant before him.. "Why, one would think you were en- chanted, Mr. Randall," said Miss Felice, hall pouting. "It's fortunate it's only a picture and not a living face, or your doom would bo sealed." "Oh, it is perfect, it is exquisite 1" said the poet, under his breath ; "a Madonna, a Saint Cecelia, a seraph! Why, Miss Leonard, do you know yon have a genius under thereof with you ?" "Yes, sir—Mr. Randall," said Miss Felice, courtesying. 'SPthaw 1 I mean the artist. Come, is'she the mysterious painter of those delicious portraits in the drawing -room that have attracted such crowds of ad. mirers already 2" "Well, since you have guessed it, yos. It was her own wish that it should nut be known." "Why, she must be the eighth wonder of the world—this governess. Who is she 7 What is she ? Where does she come from ?" said Mr. Randall, im- petuously. She is Miss Randall—a goveruess, as T before told you, from New York city, and that is her whole biography as far as I know it, except that she is very strange, and wild, and solemn -looking, with oh, such immense black, haunting eyes 1 "Oh, Felice, she's really pretty!" said Jennie; "a. great deal prettier than you or Mag. Now ain't ahe, Royal 2" "Who ?" said Royal, entering at this moment. "Our Miss Randall." "Ye:, I reckon she is. Miss Randall's a` tip t ,p lady,"said Royal, emphatically. "I r ally should like to see her. Won't you p:esont me to this genius, Miss Leoil eel 2 It is not fair to hide so brilliant a light under a bushel," said Mr. Randall. "1 shall probably claim kindred, with for, as we both have the same name." Well .I, will ask her," said Miss Felice, biting her lip. "I am not so sure, though, that ahe will consent, she is so queer. Here's 'Undine,' and now for the translation, Mr. Randall." Bat Randall stood still, with his oyes riveted on the drawing. "Dear me, Mr. Randall, hadn't you bettor keep that altogether 2" said Miss Felice; pettishly. "One would think you had fallen in love with it." "So 1 hada,"'said Mr. Randall. "Come here, Miss Jennie ; I have a favor to ask of you." What is it ?" said Jennie. "That if Miss Randall gives you this drawing, you will give it to me, and I will bring you the prettiest book' can find in New York in exchange." "Will you, though ? Isn't that Moe, Royal ? ' Oh,I'll get it from Miss Ran. dall—she's real good—and I'll give it to you, May I tell her it's for you 2" 'Just ab like ike' tell 3 e anything you please, so as you get' it for me. Won't you tell me how I can sec this wonderful governess of yours, Miss Jennie 2" "Let's see. Come .up to the school room with mamma." "By Jove 1 I will. But perhaps she wouldn't ike me to intrude, -"Mn `Randall, they are waiting for us dawn -stairs," said Miss Felice, stiffly. "Jeanie—Royal—go Out midge to bed." Georgia caught a parting glimpse of the graceful, gallant form of the young poet as ho held open the door for Miss Felice to go out, and drew a deep breath of 'relief when they were gone. Then, leaving assured herself that the coast was dear, she hurried out and sought her own zoom, and searched for Emily's portrait, but it was missing. Next morning, as Georgia was about to enter the schoolroom, Miss Felice fluttered up stairs, in a floating white cashmere morning -own, and with the drawing in her hand. "Good -morning, Miss Randall," she said, briefly;. "is this yours 2" "Pea," said Georgia, quietly. ".Will you bo kindd`enough to give it•ta Inc?" "15 is the portrait of a very dear friend. I should be happy to oblige you wore it otherwise, Miss .Leonard, said Georgia, coldly. "A. portrait 1 that heavenly face ! is it ppootbible 2" exclaimed the astounded lady, Georgia bowed gravely. "But oh, do let me have it! do, please; you Call " a draw ono t er Yh you kno coaxed Miss Felice. y W, "Of what possible use can that per. treit be to you, Miss Leonard 2" TO Hill CONTINUED. P 0 PI el -bo O t..l cy1; 09) CD CDS P P 1• 2.3 Ole% 86" CD°a CD 0) It 0 et 0 C'r"+ CD et- ;, -A• C - C 2 0 O CD P 0 CD W'S w O H 0 II. tri 0-4 CD i ---u co i--I 1—h 0 00, Cp 1-1 or) ��II