THE LOST MINIATURE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3594, 30 January 1923, Page 66

THE LOST MINIATURE.

By

A. D. Lee.

(Copyright.) It is rather a peculiar case,” he began. I smiled wisely. Everyone thinks his case peculiar. In reality it general'y proves unusual only to the one concerned in it. My book was turned, face down, on the window sill. I was ready to listen, but Alyn. did not go on at once. He sat quietly gazing out of the window across the river. The smile was still on my face as I suggested, This ‘peculiar case’ certainly has its heroine ?” “It has a heroine, yes.” Alyn’s eyes were too frank as they met mine. His gaze had not been so direct nor his face so clear the last time I had seen him. A year’s absence from his old associates had certainly been good for him. It was a pleasure to look at him. Just now his expression puzzled me. I could not fathom it, but it invited me to continue. “Have you her photograph with you?” “Yes.” He drew out of his breast pocket a small red leather case and, opening it, handed it to me. It needed but one. glance at the painted oval to make me exclaim impetuously. “You love her. No one could doubt that an instant.” Such a picture. A dainty little head covered with short curling heair; a delicate, loving, teasing face ; dark, full bewitching eyes. The throat was bare, and an indistinct mass of white gauze ended the portrait. “You must love her.” I spoke with conviction. “I do,” returned Alyn, “most.sincerely.” Still his expression nuzzled me. An inscrutable smile played over his face, but he delayed beginning the story he had volunteered to tell. “And she?” I hesitated over the inquiry, remembering what manner of man it was who had gone from us a year ago. A gentle expression passed over Alyn s face. “I think she is fond of me,” he replied simply. I stretched out my hand and Alyn grasped it warmly. “I do believe,” he said earnestfy, “that if ever a man was fortunate that man is I. Will you care to listen? I used to tell you things when I was a boy,” he added apologetically. I picked up my sewing, always lying ready against such times as this, and leaned back in my rocker. Alyn reached fqr the picture. He leaned his head on one hand and his elbow on the table. In the ether Land he held the case where his eyes could rest on the face. His own face became grave. “It Was a year ago. One night, or rooming, rather. I landed on the ferry on the way to my lodgings. I couldn't get a street car nor a cab. In fact, I was too drunk to think of either, so I stumbled along keeping iust straight enough to escape the police. In front of mv lodgings is a.n electric light. A slight fall of snow had whitened the pavement and made distinct this case beneath the light. I had just strength and sense enough left to pick it up tumble up the stairs and stretch myself out on my conch.” Alyn snapped the case shut and paused a moment. “Some time the next day I awoke, and the first thing that attracted my attention was this—open on the floor, and her eyes looking up at me—me in that condition.” An expression of disgust good to see came over the man’s face. “I nuickly shut the case and put myself and mv room in order. Then I sat down and studied her.” Still absorbed in his narrative Alvn opened the case again and dropped his eyes on the photograph. “I told vou this was a peculiar cnsec, a-nd vou will think. T fear that I am a neculiar man. But the more T at her the more T wanted to look. I never parted with the miniature. T carried it around in mv nocket and thought and thought about her, until she became a living presence to me, a beautiful woman always with me. I became absentminded. The fellows comnlaiued. but, I came to have an engagement always when thev wanted me. Mv engagement wa« with this—the lady of the miniature. I had lost mv heart to her. About, t.h° original of the nhotograph I reasoned this wav. Rhe would not bo can-vine- ber own miniature around in all probability. It must have been lost bv a friend, and probably, Ahere was the hard part of it all bv hem lover. Tf T a dvertised it he would elelm it. and T should not, meet her. “I didn’t advertise. I did something far more irrational. I spent my spare hours searching. I visited stores and walked the streets. I haunted the residence part of the city. I went to the opera and scanned the boxes ra.ther than the stage. Needless to say. I did not find her ; yet I never lost hope. 1 felt A must

find her and look at her. I felt thi« , " afresh every time I opened this case. I " would not give up the search. When I. had exhausted every resource of my own I did something which I had shrunk from doing before; I hunted out the best detective in the city and told him to spare neither time nor money in finding her. “Within two weeks I received a note from him. He was was obliged to leave the town suddenly. He wrote something like this: “ ‘l’ve found her at 320 Water ave. Imogene Munroe. Will give you particulars when I return to-morrow. She is •anxious to recover the miniature.’ “But I could not wait until the next day, and sawi no reason why it would be necessary. I had the photograph and would take it to her. Because of it I should insure myself a reception at least. “I went to 320 Water avenue that evening. It is an elegant residence in perfect keeping with the case and face. I had scribbled on my card. ‘The finder of the miniature.’ The maid who admitted me said that Miss Munroe was at home, ohe took the card and left me in the reception room. It was one of tile most—what shall I call it?—delicious rooms I was ever in. One side was lined with deep windows draped in soft, dainty curtains and filled with plants and flowens. The air was heavy with the scent of roses. “I stood before one of the windows looking at the blossoms when she came. She came so quietly and gently that I did not hear her. It was only when the sweetest, lowest, clearest voice I had ever heard,' said ‘At last I am to have my miniature,’ that I knew she was in the room. I confess I trembled as 1 turned and took the hand of ” Alyn stopped and smiled. It was a half-sad, half-amlised, wholly inscrutable smile. My sewing had fallen into my lap and I leaned forward listening breathlessly. “The hand of the original of the picture. "These eyes, this mouth, this delicate complexion, this same soft curling hair. I was looking on it all, the same, but——” Alyn raised his eyes. The amusement had faded away. “The hair was snowy white and the--skin was wrinkled. Hers was indeed the face of the miniature, the face of fifty years ago. My foolish fancy was destroyed, but in its Diace came the sweetest little white-haired ladv that a man was ever privileged to call friend. And this miniature—some way I had a strange reluctance to part with it, and so here it is with me now. That is all,” concluded Alyn abruptly. “That is enough,” I said quietly. “I think that face has stood' between you and ” Alyn brike in hastily. “0 that is nothing. I couldn’t carry this,” holding up the photograph, “into such places as I had been frequenting, and so, well, it’s all right.” Alyn buttoned up his coat and smiled at me frankly as he went out by way of the office door. f The doctor has always said thqre wks the making of a man in that boy.