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The Brussels Post, 1887-6-24, Page 7to r. V. i NS, DAV icl- "t ser fes fed ed, ely the tly 7T 5 Juni, 24., 1S87. THE BRUSSELS FOST ciotinenevanzartoonwronmexodsoniostasowerenitiOntintspreatenannosseasysolonostestoserannionsons THE ACT ' leaving. Don't disturb yourself about ,, ' ACTRESS' DAUGHTER ; thein, nay dear; you will soon be as well Wit .1, as any of blzem, "Tell me," said. Georgia, catching the woman's wrists in her thin, branaparent hands, and looking earnestly in hor facie with the groat blank eyes no, sunken aucl melancholy now—"toll me if you know whether a certain Mr. Randall who used to come here went with them? Perhaps you Have heard?" Tho woman shook her head. "No, my dear, I have not. I have heard of him, though, often; they say ho is very clever and going to bo married to Miss Felice, but I don't know myself. Don't talk so much, Miss Randall; it le not good for you." "One thing more," said Georgia. "I— I raved when I was out of my nand; will you tell me what it was I said?" "That would be pretty hard to do," said the nurse, smiling; but than, seeiug the look of desperate earnestness on hor Tiationt's face, sho added: "Why, you know, my dear, you talked a groat deal of nonsense—fever patiouts always do— about some ono you called Richmond and Freddy Richmond—some deutlom an, S expect," said the woman, with a inoau- ing glance ; "and you called yourself a murderess, and then you kept bogging some ono not to be angry with you, and you would never do so any more; and sometimes you would talk to the child. ren, and fancy yourself in the school. room with them. In short, you know, you said all sorts .of queer things , but that was to bo expected," From that day Georgia rapidly re- covered, and in less than a fortnight was able to got up and sit for a few house oath day in an easy -chair by the win- dow, inhaling the fragrant summer air. Her first request was to call for the latest papers; but for some time the doctor said she was not equal to the ex- ertion of reading them, and, in spite of her passionate eagerness, she had to wait. To ask about Richmond sho did not dare; but how eagerly she scanned the first paper she got in search of his name! And there she learned that he had gone South on a summer ramble, wandering about from place to place with bhe strange restlessness that characterized, him. It was a blow to her at first, but when sho came to think over it, she was almost glad of it. Somehow, sho scarcely could toll why, she diel not wish to meet him yob. If ever sho returned to him, it must be in a way different from what she had left. She wanted to find her brother first ; she had a vehement desire to win wealth. and fame, androturn to Richmond Wildair as his equal in every way. Dur- iug the long, weary hours of her con- valescence ske had made up her mind to go to the city. Tho monotonous life of the last six mouths here grew unendurable to her now; sho would not have taken mo - counted wealth and consented to spend six more like them. Life at least was not stagnant in the uproar and turmoil of the city, and solitude is not always a panacea for all sorts of people in trouble. Sho had money—her half -year's salary had been untouched, and it was no in- considerable sum, for Mr. Leonard had been as generous as he was rioh. Sho had a vague idea of winning fame as an artist. Sho felt an inward conviction that her "Hagar in the Wilderness" would create a sensation if seen. She took it out from the canvas soreen, and gazed long and earnestly upon it. It was a wild, wierd, unearthly thiug,. but strangely beautiful withal, and pos- sessing a sort of fascination that would have chained you before it . for hours. Never did eye look upon a more glori- ously beautiful face than that of the pic- tured Egyptian in its dark splendor and unutterable anguish. The posture, as she half -lay, half.writhed in hor inward torture, spoke of the darkest depth of anguish and despair; the long, wild, purplish black tresses streamed un- bound in the breeze, and the face that startled you from the canvas was white with woman's utmost woe. And the eyes that caught and transfixed yours, sending a thrill of awe and terror to the most stoical heart— those unfathomable eyes of midnight blackness, where despairing love, fiercest anguish, and maddest despera- tion seem struggling for mastery. Oh 1 never could any, but one in the utmost depths of despair herself, have painted eyes like these. Lucifer hurled from heaven might have cast back one last look like that, so full of conflicting pas- sion, but the superhuman agony shining and surmounting them all—eyes that would have haunted you like a frightful nightmare, long after you had first be- held them, eyes that would have made you shudder, and yet held you spell- bound, breathless, riveted to the spot. All unknown to herself she had paint. ad her own portrait ; those flowing, lustrous tresses, that dark, oriental face, those appalliug eyes, that posture of utterwoo and unspeakable desolation, all were hers. The faro was almost the fan simile of the one that had once so startled Richmond Wildair that morn- ing on the sea -shorn, only the passionate, tortured form was wanting, At a little distance lay the boy Ishmael, with all his mother's dark beauty in his face, bub so serenely calm and childishly peaceful that the contrast was all the more starbling, It was a wonderful picture,and no wonder that Georgia's oyes fireup, and her color came and went, and hor coun- tenance glowed with power, and triumph and inspiration as she gazed. "It must succeed—it will succeed—i shall succeed 1" she vehemently ex THE MISTRESS O]' RIOmI OND HOUSE. A TALE O WOCONG AND Reemoetele By Mrs. MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of .� Lost For n %Yornail "" Maud, Fere!, 'm !Secret," Etc., Into. anoRLEY'S 00010. 'sy the strong spirit's disetpiine, Oy the dorso wreag forgiven. Dy all that wrings the heart of cin, Ia 001300 Won to heaysn," With every, =rye strained, every feeling wrought to the highest piboh of excitement, Georgia had listened ; but at this last moment the overstrung ten. siou gave way, and, for the first timo in her life, she fainted. On the wet grass where she hall fallen she still lay when life and memory came back. Sho raised herself on her elbow and looked wildly around, passed her hand across her forehead, and tried to think. Gradually recollection re- turned; one by one the broken chains of memory were reunited, and all she had heard came bank, flooding hor soul with ecstabic joy. Beloved still, no longer a cast-off wife, and hor long -lost brother Warren restored! She remembered him now ; sho won- dered she had not done so at first, for every tone of his voice was familiar. It was the name that had deceived her, and yet he had his mother's name, too —Warren Randall Darrell, She rose up, to find herself stiff and cold, lying on the wet ground, and her dress soaked with the heavy dew. Tho garden was deserted, the house all dark, and with an overpowering sense of loneliness she found herself looked out. It would not do to disturb the family; sho must wait till morning whore she was, so she resumed her sett and crouched down, shivering with cold. The new-born joy in her hebffi could not keep hor from being chilled through and through ; and as the long hours dragged on, it seemed to her that never was night so long as that. Benumbed with the cold, sick, and shivering, she sank into an uneasy slumber at last, with her head on the hard, wooden bench. It was morning when she awoke. With difficultyshe arose to her feet, and saw a servant with lazy step and lack- lustre eyes come out and approach the stpbles. As elle arose, she found her. self hardly able to walk from cold and exposure, but sho managed to stagger to the door and enter unobserved. It was well for bar she met no one, as they might have taken her for one newly .risen from the dead—for never did eye rest on such a deathly face as she wore that morning. How she reeled to her room she did not know ; how she man• aged to take off her saturated garments and fling herself on her bed she could not tell; but there she was lying, weak, prostrate, helpless, and chilled to the very heart. As the morning passed and she did not appear, a servant was sent to see what was the matter. Georgia tried to lift her head, but such a feeling of deadly sickness and giddiness -came ever her that, weak and blinded, she fell back on her pillow. Every care was taken of her, but before night a raging fever had. set in, and' with burning brow and parched lips Georgia lay tossing ,and raving wildly in delirium. Alarmed now, the family physician was sent for, who pronounced it a dangerous attack of brain fever, from which he was ex- tremely doubtful if she could. over re. cover. For days and days after that Georgia lay helpless as a child, with liqui flame burning in every vein. Sometimes she raved and shrieked madly of Freddy Richmond, calling herself a murderess, and trying to spring from those who held her. Sometimes she would plead pitifully with Richmond and implore him to forgive her, and she would never, never offend him again ; and she would forget all the past, and fancy herself talking to the ehildren in the school- room, seemingly. with no memory of anything but the present. It was a golden, sunshiny June morning when consciousness returned, and she opened her eyes to find herself lying in: her own room, with a strange woman sittting beside her. Youth, and a naturally strong constitu- tion, had finally triumphed over the clis- ease,but she lay there weak and help. lase as an infant. She hada vague, eon- fusodmemory of the past few weeks, •and she turned with a helpless, bewildered, look to the nurse, "''What is it? What is the matter? Have I boon ill ?" she asked, feebly. "'Yes, very ill; but you are better now," said the nurse, Doming over and softly adjusting the pillow. '"How—how long have I been ,sick ?" sihe said, passing her wasted band morose her forehead as if to dispol a mist. '"Throe weeks," was the reply. "So long I" said Georgia, drearily., and still struggling to rascal something that had escaped her memory. "Who .ane,yoa? I don't know you I" "I am your nurse," said the woman, smiling. "Mie. Leonard hired' me to take care of you, and look after things generally until she came back." "Came back I Has she gong away, then ?" "Oh, dear, yes 1 the whole family, children and all; they were afraid of the fever, although bhe dooter�said.there was no danger." "Where have they gone?" said Geor- claimed. "There has been a priz -gip, faintly. offered by- rho Aoadomy of Ar, for bhe "To New York, It's my opinion the beet painting from a native artist, an young ladies were glad of any chance of mine shall go with the rest. Aud if 1 getting back to town, and it was theye succeeds—" especially Miss Folios, who insisted sen She caught hor breath, andhorwho face for an Instant grew radiant with the picture she conjured up of the glory and fame that would be hors, "Mr. Leonard shall take it for me; he has always been my friend, and the ar. tilt's name shall be unknown until the decision is announced, Yes, 16 shall be so; the paper says that alt pictures for the prize must he delivered in three days from this, as the deoiaion shall be given and the prize awarded in a fort- night, Yes, I will go at once," And with hor characteristic impulsive rapidity, Gooxgia made her preparations, and that very afternoon bads farewell to the house whore the last wretched six menthe had been spent, and took the oars for Now York. Arrived there her fireb destination was the widow's, where she had stopped before, and early next next morning she set out for the hotel where the Loonards were stopping. Mr. Leonard and his family wore still there, and seemed quite overjoyed to see her. It was fortunate, Mrs. Leonard said, she had come when she c1id, for early in the next mouth she, and Mr. Leonard, and the girls were off for Cape May for a little tossing about in the surf, and woull not return until quite late in the season, as, having been cooped up so long, they were determined to make the most of their holiday now. Tho children were to go back, and she, Miss Randall, was expected to go back with them, and oversee the household generally in their absence. Great was the worthy lady's surprise when Georgia quietly and firmly do- oliued. At first she was disposed to stand upou her dignity and be offended, but when Mr. Leonard declared em. pbaticaliy Miss Randall was right, that sho was by no means strong enough to rosin= the labor of teaching, that she needed rest, and relaxation and amuse- ment, and that the city, among her friends, was for the present decidedly the best place for tor, she cooled dowu, and consented to listen to reason. "And now, how are all your friends, Mies Leonard?" said Georgia, with a smile, yet with a sudden throbbing at her heart at the hope of hearing some- thing of her brother. "All well enough when we saw them last," said Miss Feline, in a drearytone; 4 ' :,puudy's se.Ing away out of the city, but pe-•- +i11 insist bn staying after every .on "{ I, ,I do you call every ono' else, my doe: ?" said Mr. Leonard, looking over his paper good-humoredly. "If I don't mistake, you may see some thou- sands of people in New York every day still." Uh, yos, the nobodies stay, of course. I don't mean them," said Miss Feline, pettishly. "I ha5e people. Anybody the•t pretends to be anybody is going away." e'rs e. nice republican—you are 1" `said Master Royal, who in ono corner of the room was making frantic efforts to stand ou his head, as he had soon them do in Vile circus the night before. "Has your friend Mr. Randall gone, too ?" said Georgia, still trying to smile, though there was a slight agita. tion in her voice in spite of all. "Yes, of course bo has. Iwonderyou didn't hear of it," said Miss Felice, look- ing dissatisfied. "Hoar of it how could she?" broke iu Maggio, "You see, Mies Randall, the queerest thing occurred while you were sick—just like a thing in a play, where everybody turns out to be somebody else. Mr. Randall had a sister once upon a time, and lost her somehow, and she grew up and married Mr. Rich. mond Wildair, and he lost her some. how, the lady evidently having a fancy for getting lost, and it was all found ant through Dick Curtis. So Mr. Randall and Mr. Wildair had a great time about it, and now they have gone to look for her again—one North and the other South, so if they don't find hor it will be a wonder. Is it not romantic ? I would give the world to see her—the wife and sister of two such famous men. Oh, Miss Randall 1 Mr. Curtis says she was quite splendid—so beautiful, you know, and"—here Maggie lowered her voice to a mysterious whisper—"he thinks she has gone and' killed herself." "Oh, ma, look how pale Miss Randall is ; she's going to faint if you don't look sharp," oiled out Master Royal. "No, it's nothing ; pray do not mind," said Georgia, faintly motioning them away. •"I am not very strong yet ; allow me to wish you good -morning. Mr. Leonard, can I see you in private for a fow minutes." "Certainly, certainly," responded Mr. Leonard; while the rest looked up, rather surprised, es they left the room. In as few words as possible Georgia make known her request, and obtained from him a promise, of secrecy. Mr. Leonard was not in the least surprised; he was perfectly confident about her taking the prize, and, having obtained her address, told her he would call for it on the morrow. But when the old gentleman saw it ho fairly started back, and gazed on it in a sort of terror and consternation that amused Georgia, breaking out at in- tervale with ejaculations of extreme aatonisllmont. "Ell? what? Lord bless my soul! Why, it's quite :frightful -upon my life itis! Good gracions'1 what a pair of eyes that young woman has got! 'Hagar in bbs Wilderness: Jo-ru-sa-lem 1 I wouldn't be Abraham for a trifle, with snob a desperate -looking wild -cat as that about the house. She's the born imago of yourself, too; one would, think you and Hagar wore twin sisters. Well, Lord it bless mo ; if it isn't enough to give a • man fits to look at it I It's well I'm not e nervous, or I'd never got over the shook of looking at it. Upon my honor, Miss d Randall, I don't know what to make of t • you. You're the eighth wonder of the world•—that's what you aro I" 10 The painting was accordingly pont in, and three days after the whole Leonard family dopailed—the children for home, and the olden; of the house for Cape May—and Georgia was left to eolibudo and suspense once more, until, 80 day after day passed, and the day approach- ed, sho began her old fashion of working herself up unto one of her fevers of im- patience and excitement. Her usual antidote of a long, rapid walk was fol- lowed in the city as well as in the country, and often did people pause and look in wonder after the tall, dark. robed Figaro that flitted so rapidly by them, whose veiled face ne ono ever saw. One night, as darkness was falling over the city, Georgia found herself sud- denly among a crowd of people who were passing rapidly into a church. Borne along by the throng, the was car- ried in, too, and, half bewildered by the crowd, and by the crash of a grand organ, and the glitter of many lights, she fouud herself in a pew, among thou. muds of others, before she quite realized where she was. She looked, and, with a half- startled air, saw oho was in one of the largest churches of the pity, and that it was already filled to suffocation. She heard some person in a seat before hor whisper that an eloquent young divine (she could not catch the name) was going to address them. While they yet spoke a tall, slight figure, robed in black, came out of the vestry, passed up the stairs, and ascended the pulpit. A f silence so pie ound that could have you heard a pin drop in that vast multitude reigned, broken at last by a clear, thrilling voice that rang out in deep tones with the awful words from Holy Writ : "You shall seek Me and yon shall not find Me, and you shall die in your sins." A loath -like silence ensued, and every heart seemed to stand still to catch the next words. But why does Georgia start as if she had received a spear thrust? Why do her lips spring white and quivering apart? Why are hor eyes fixed so wildly, so strangely on the preachoxb In that moment the mystery was solved, the secret revealed—the brother of her husband stands before her. Tho gay, the careless, the elegant, the thoughtless Charley Wildair is a clergyman. For awhile sho sat stunned by the shock, conscious that he was speaking, yet hearing not a word.. Then her clouded faculties cleared, and her oars were greeted by such bursts of re- sistless eloquence as she had never dreamed • of before. In that moment rose before her, with terrific vividness, the despairing death -hod of the sinner and the awful doom that must follow. Shuddering and terrified, she fell back, shading her face with her hands, appalled by the awful fate that might have been Iters, What—what was all earthly trouble compared with that dread eter- ni by of misery she had deserved --that awful doom that miehb ,vet be her Still it arose before her in all its fright ful horrors, exhibited by the clarion' voice of the speaker, until wrought up to the pitch of frenzy, her trembling lips strove to form the word "Maxey.' And still, as if in answer, rang out the thrill- ing voice with that terrible sentence of eternal doom: You shall seek Me, and you shall not find Me, and you shall die in your sins." The sermon was over, the people were crowding out, and she found herself half senseless kneeling in the pew, with her faoe hidden in her hands. An uncon- trollable desire to see, to speakpto him she had just heard seized her, and sho sprang up, and, grasping some one who stood near her, said, incoherently : "Where is he? 'meet see him! Where is he ggone?" "Who?" said the startled personage she addressed. "Ile who has just preached." "In there," said the man, pointing to the vestry.' "Go in that way and you will see him." Forcing her way through the throng, Georgia hurried on, passed into the sanctuary,, and from thence to the vestry. There she paused—restored to herself. Nearly a dozen .clergyman were there, standing in groups, conversing with several ladies and gentlemen, who had come too late to net into the church, and had boon forced to remain there to lis- ten. All eyes were turned on the new- comer, whose pale, wild beauty made her an object of deep interest, as she stood startled and hesitating in the door -way. A little boy standing near looked up and said, curiously : Do you want anybody; ma'am ?" •'Yes—Mr. Wildair. Is he here?" said Georgia, hurriedly. "Yes'm, there he is," said the boy, pointing to where stood the man she was in search of, standing by himself, his forehead leaning on his hand, and a look of utter fatigue and .weariness on hie pale face. All Georgia's eagerness returned at the sight. Passing rapidly through the won- dering spectators she approached him, and, with an irrepressible cry of "Char- ley!' she stood before him. Looking very much surprised, as well be might, the young clergy/emu lifted up his head and fixed his oyes full on her face; but there was no recognition in that look, nothing but the utmost won- der. "Oh, Charley I don't you know me?—' don't you know Georgia?" she cried out, passionately. he started up. Instantly p "What1 Georgia Darrell—little Gem. gia, my brother's wife 1" he cried, eagerly. Her oyes answered him. "Is it possible? Why, Georgia, how little I expected to meet you hero 1" he said, holding out his hand, witha smile of mingled remorse and pleasure. "How eaone you here ?" "I do nob know. Chance—Providonee --something sent mo here to -night." "1 would never have known you, it is so long since we mot," "Nob so ling as you think," she Haid; with ono of her old ram smiles. "No 1 How is that?" "Do you remember the person youmot on a country road, one night about a month ago, and asked the way to Widow O'Neil's ?" Yes: ' "I was that perm." "Indeed! And did you know mot" "Certainly I did," "Well, I never for an instant dreamed ib was you; but no wonder--Ineversaw any ono so changed," he said, looking in the pale wasted face, and contrasting it with the blooming happy one he had last seen, "Trouble seldom changes people for the better, I believe," she said, with a sigh, Ah, I heard what you allude to ; Cur- tis told mo. I am Tory, very sorry indeed, Georgia ; but do you know they imagine you dead?" "Yes, I know it," she said, averting her face. And that Richmond has searched for tidings of you everywhere ?" "Yes.,' "Well, Georgia," he said, anxiously, "what do you intend to do? You should return to your husband," "I intend to," she said, looking up with a sudden bright smile, "but not just yet. And you—how little I ever expected to see you a oloxgyman—you who, if your reverence will excuse my saying it, used to be such a rattle -pate." He laughed, the happy, caroboss laugh that reminded her of the Charley of other days, and shook back, with the old familiar motion, his bhiok, clustering, chestnut hair. "Time works wonders, Georgia. Thank God for what it has done for mo," he said, reverentially. "Did you know I was a clergyman ?" Not until to -eight. Thoy never would tell me what became of you. They said you disgraced the family, committed some awful crime, but what it was I never could learn. Surely they did not mean that by becoming a clergyman you had disgraced your family?" "They meant that, and nothing oleo," he said, emphatically. "All, how mach you gave up for the dictates of conscience—friends and fam- ily, wealth and worldly honors, and all that makes life dear, and yet you look happy," said Georgia, in a sorb of won- der - He laid his hand on hers and pointed up, while he said, in a low voice : "Amen, I say to you, there is no man that ]lath left home, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, who shall not re. ceive much more in this present time, and in the world to come life everlast- ing" She lifted up her eyes in a sort of awe at the inspired tones. And his face was as the face of an angel. A silence fell on them both, broken first by him. "Yon must come to see me again, Georgia. I have a good deal to say to you that I have no time to say now. Here is my address while I remain in the city, which will not be long. You have suffered wrong, Georgia, but 'forgive that you be likewise forgiven.' I must go now. Geod./sight, and Heaven bless you." In .her unworthiness she felt as if she could have sunk at his feet and kissed the hem of his garment. She bowed her once haughty head to receive his parting benediction, and hurried out. Sitting in her room that night, sho sank down to pray for the first time in years—almost for the first time in her life. Fervently, earnestly was that prayer offered ; and a calmness, a peace hitherto unknown, stole into her heart. In the sighing of the wind she seemed to hear an angel voice softly saying, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give ye rest," and, drop- ping ro - ping her forehead in her clasped hands, she sank down in the calm light ofhigh, bright, solemn stars, and meekly mur• inured "Hear me, oh, Lord!" CHAPTER XXII. VIE FON RMS. "Radiant daughter of the sun, Now thy living wreath is won, Crowned with tome!" —MRs, tremolo. The wise counsel and impressive in. structions of hex old acquaintance, the now calm, dignified and subdued Rev. Mr. Wildair, soon brought forth good fruit. Georgia began to find the "peace which passeth all understanding." Now she looked forward with calm, patient expectation to hor meeting with hor husband, with the sweet promise ever in her mind, "seek first the king- dom of God, and all else shall be added auto you." With a sad heart Georgia noticed her old companion's thin, wasted face and form, the striking bril- lianoy of Itis eyes, the hectic flush of his pale cheek, and the short, hacking cough that impeded his speech, and felt that the inspired young missionary's days were numbered. The day camp at last, when the decision regarding Georgia's picture was to be announced. She tried to be cairn and patient, but notwithstanding all her efforts in this direction, when Mr. Leonard started oft. to hear the decision that was to condemn or accept her picture, she was in a per- fect fever of anxiety, She could not sit still, she could not taste breakfast ; she walked up arid down her room in irre• pressiblo iinpatieneo, with two hot shots, all unusual there, burning on either cheek, and a wild, fevoitehiightstreams ing from hor eyes. Noon came—twelve o'ebotk—Georgia: looked at hor watch unceasingly. He TO BL CONTINUED. 111 0 0 7 O w,./ -p�0 1-1 CIII iI 0 C) P E� Vl 0 P CM r 'Q 000 C• CI` 12 0 I� CD P01QCD CD 1-1 .tis, LV 0y. V 1-1 0 el - ryry(04 �D v.g eld 0-1 ® p ED �CD I— CD CO 0 CO 0 0 ti E" C• F 92