Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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the fire on the hearth crackled, its tongues of color searching out the gloom of the room. Perry and 1 rumaged among the books and selected the ones we wanted to read, while Aunt Susan knitted. Something in the feel of the room thrilled me strangely and increased my curiosity still more. 1 could not read. For a while I merely looked at the words and pretended to read. This grew monotonous, the atmosphere became dull and heavy; I was obliged to look up from the book. 1 stared into the fire and watched the flames mingling and clasping one another. But the picture above drew my eyes. I had not the power to resist, so I looked up at it. The knife gleamed all the more and the struggle now seemed more real, more terrible. Then my eyes strayed to Perry, who wai still reading. He must have felt me looking at him. for he laid down his book. That picture above us is an excellent piece of art, I remarked. Yes. most excellent. returned Perry. Aunt Susan yawned audibly and begged to be excused. When she had retired. Perry took up the conversation again by saying. A strange story is connected with that picture. If you care to hear it. I’ll be glad to tell it to you. I'm sure. I would, I said. You. of course, know my relationship to your Aunt, do you not? I nodded. The relationship, as you know it. is not entirely true. My story will prove it. Some time ago I was touring Europe. While I was in France in a small village near Calais, the landlady of the house where I was stying asked me if I owned the large estate adjacent. This query astonished me and I replied that I owned no property in France. The old lady refused to believe me and begged that I go as a visitor to the estate to see if would not recognize it. Merely to please the old lady, I went. The door of the castle was opened by an old man. a servant. The moment he saw me he bowed obsequiously and begged me to come in. calling me 'Master'. I went in. protesting the while that he was mistaken. The old man would not heed me, and in half an hour he had convinced me that I was not Perry Lawrence but Pierre Calon. I learned that I was of French birth and that I had at an early age been taken to the United States and put under the guardianship of your Uncle 1 oin s best friend, who promised to care for and educate me as his own son and never to reveal my identity until I came of age. At that time, according to arrangements. I was to be taken to Frence where I was to come into possession of my inheritance, my estate having been left to the care of this faithful old servant. My father. 1 was told, had been compelled to do this in order to keep his feudal enemies from gaining our land and property. My foster-father, however, at the time of his death and in his last moments. became delirious and so could not leave any instructions concerning me. The old man gave me proof for everything; I could not refuse to be convinced. When I took possession of the house. I became heir to its treasures and it was among them that I found this picture. Page Twenty-six

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THE SILVER BOX I read the letter from Perry again; 1 could scarcely believe my eyes. It was an invitation to spend the Christmas holidays at Aunt Susan’s home with Aunt Susan and Perry—Perry of all persons! I laid the letter aside and opened the next one. It was from Mother. She knew of the invitation and gave permission for me to accept, as Aunt Susan was very urgent, and the time set by the invitation was concident with my holidays. Perry had ever been our subject of interest since Uncle Tom had adopted the orphan left by his best friend at his death. For a time we had heard frequently of Perry's accomplishments. Then Uncle Tom died, and with him Perry's ama2ing achievements, as far as we were concerned, for we were no longer in close touch with Aunt Susan and Perry. I had always loved my kind Aunt Susan. She had many a time saved me the sorrow of tears. Then, too. I was anxious to see Perry—the author of so many extraordinary ventures. Almost capriciously I wrote my acceptance to the invitation. On December twenty-fourth at noon 1 arrived in the mountainous little town of Haleville. The weather was ideal for Christmas. I he cold wind had been the harbinger of the snow, which seemed to fall thicker and faster. I was met by Perry and Aunt Susan, and in a short time we were approaching the house. As wc neared it, I saw a hugh lawn blanketed with snow, having as its central monument the mansion itself, stately, tall, and impressive. The spacious and luxuriously furnished rooms of the interior held a greeting for me which caused me to hold my breath in wonder. I had never known that Aunt Susan lived in a house furnished with every luxury that wealth can buy. The compelling interest of the living room centered, for me, around an enoimous picture that hung directly over the hearth. Even when I turned away, the picture seemed to hold my attention, and focus it upon itself. It was a life sized picture of two men engaged in a terrific struggle; one of them who seemed to have the best of the situation, strangely resembled Perry, though the expression on his face was the most cruel and dmonical that I had ever seen. He held a gleam'ng knife in the air above his enemy, who was almost in a sitting position on the ground, save for tho struggling foreleg, bent at the knee. The picture furnished the keynote of the room. Its coloring seemed to blend with the furniture, and even with the paper on the walls. Perry smiled as he saw me staring almost open-mouthed at the strange representation. Somehow, even the tmosphere of the room bore a relation to the p'eture; I felt strangely curious and mystified. Later in the day. Aunt Susan, wishing to make me feel at home, took me about the house, ending the brief excursion in the art gallery. I stood longest before two landscape pictures which clearly brought out the peace of sunset and twilight in a seemingly remote and very quaint village. At length dark came and after the evening meal we went into the living room. Without, the snow lay in huge drifts, for it had fallen all day. Within. ’ » «• Iwntty-fitr

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‘A feud had existed for years between our family and a second leading family of that section. The genius of the opposing factor, an artist, in vindictive rage, painted this picture, his masterpiece, and sent it to my father. It indicates, of course, presumably, that he (my father) was cruel and terrible. Instead of destroying the picture, my father put it in the most conspicuous place in the house. The people of the village, however, because of Monsieur Calon’s' kindness to them, ridicluled the artist (who had previously painted many holy pictures for the church) for venting his spleen in so disgraceful a way. Later on. in the courts, a case that had been pending for some time between the families was won by my father. This made them ridicule the artist even more. Unable to endure their taunts he fled, vowing to get revenge at some time. After that my father was muredered and it was whispered among the village folk that the artist was guilty. Rumors later came that he was searching for me My life at the castle was like a pleasant dream; but it soon came to an end. Your Uncle Tom died and I felt it my duty to return to America. I persuaded the old servants to take over the castle, but they insisted that I keep the furnishings and the pictures you have seen here. The village scenes and this one are the most beautiful that I have ever seen. On my return. I bought this home for Aunt Susan, and furnished it. No one knows of my pleasant dream; but I believe I’m dismissing a load from my mind by telling you. perhaps, because I feel more and more convinced that before this year comes to an end the artist and I shall meet! I shall welcome the opportunity to settle my account with him. Then rising. Perry went to the library table, opened a drawer and took out a small silver box. displaying a magnificent coat-of-arms; the interior contained a ring, fastened to the bottom of the box. not unlike the key to a trap door. Under the ring were two letters. I looked closer. There were my initials! This box bears a strange relationship to the picture. The butler entered the room. Perry begged to be excused a moment, and the two went out. He returned and explained that a Frenchman had lost his way in a storm on the mountains and that a party was organized to search for him. He added that he was to join the pary. Glancing toward the box again he said almost playfully. If I don't return before Christmas evening, I want you to have the box as my Christmas gift to you. Perry never returned. The next evening the party brought back the body of the Frenchman and sadly told to us the story of the search. By the aid of a field glass, early that morning they had discovered the Frenchman nearing the top of a lofty peak. Perry, being an expert climber, volunteered to follow him. He reached the top of the peak and just as the men were ready to throw ropes to them, the Frenchman uttered a piercing cry. The two exchanged greetings it seemed, but. strange to tell, they began fighting. In the struggle both men fell from I'cujc Twenty-seven