Juliet signal. [volume] (Juliet [i.e. Joliet], Ill.) 1844-1???, 1861-04-16
From Chambers Journal.
LOVE AMONG THE LILIES.

LOVE AMONG THE LILIES.
Like a prisoned poet inscribing eloquent
odes to Liberty, Maria van OOsterwyck,
pent in the centre of grim old frowning
Delft, strove passionately to fix upon can
vass the glorious flowers and fruits of far
country, from which the towns every ca
nal, lock. street, wa / and rampant combined
to sunder her. BY aid of memory, scrap
sketches made on hurried visits beyond the
gates, and cut flowers sickening and dying
rs she drew them, the pale, earnest looking
lady worked on.
With lily's whitencss in her face, and
fair waving hair, that seemed sprinkled
with the gold dust from the lily's cup,
pushed back carelessly, so as not to hinder
her, and in suber, dark wooden dress, only
relieved by the large plated muslin ruff
collar, Maria bent her 1.-THE, fragile figure
before her easel; porting over one of those
small cabinet paintings, whose transparent
color, refined taste, and de icate mechanism,
shall make them, years after thou art dust,
Maria van OOsterwyck, cherished posses
sions even in the choicest collections. She
loved her flowers; she loved her art; for
these she was content to spend her life; it
was no toll, at least it was toll free from
irksomness, and full Of JOY, to be true to
such love as this.
Through the mist, through the smoke and
the shadow, and over the trees, there were
eyes searching out the light form Of Maria
van Q sserwyck III her studio; ard these
gay, bright, pleasant looking eyes enough
-wero fixed in the head of Wilhelm van
Allst. painter also, and denizen Of Delft,
whose studio is exactly opposite to Maria's
on the other side Of the street. He has set
up his easel, and has work before him-a
clev r enough artist, painting still life sub
jects Gextercusly, and iE good repute for
his dead game, scraps of armor, and gold
and silver cups, hut not a very sedulOus
worker; unable TO fOrget-as the genuine
student ever does-that there is a world
going on outside his studio walls. Half a
dozen touches, and he looked out the win
dow, down the street toward the market
place, or over the way at Maria; then
another few touches, and look al the glass
at his own handsome face, and q twirling
of his mouStache, pulling at his beard, or
tossing about Of long, thick chestnut
locks. lie makes up his mind at last aud
perhaps he hasn't much to operate upon,
for that matter. lie filings away his pallet
ard brushes, arrays himself in handsome
velvet doublet, blue with narrow silver
! edging, dons a hat and feather, buckles on
! his rapier, and struts from his studio. No
more work for to day. lie will pay visits ;
it is really quite long time since he has
| seen his fIiends-tweive hours or so-he
| will call on Maria van Orsterwyck, and see
how her lilies are getting on, and then lie
/ will diue-well, perhaps at the Golden Cali
round the corner, and finish the evening
| there.
! Absorbed in her lilies, her thin white
hand supported by her mahl stick, with the
smallest. finest brush ever seen, defining
hair-lines of light upon the outer rims o
the flowers, Maria heard not the knock a
her door-heard not the step upon the foo
knew not that any one had entered thu
J room, was lost to all but her art, until ,
hand was laid gently on her arm, and
voice mrrmured, accenting teDderly:
Incompatible Mariap'
She started up with quite little scream
paler than ever, and her soft blue eyes oper
wide with alarm, like flowers beaten will
n storm. She was a lovely specimen of
thorough blonde, fiaxen even to eyebrow
and eyelashes-a very human lily herself
so pure, and delicate, and loveable looking
you frightened me, Wilhelm" shr
said, her first surprise little wore off ant
) with just the slightest tone of reprova
traceable in her voice. She was about L
give her hand with the brush il it, but
glance at Wilhelm's gay doublet, and tn
thought Of however so little a streak O
cream-white would soil it, stopped her.
Enthusiast !" Wilhelm went on" de-
yoteei you have no thought but for this ?
and he pointed to the panel on the easel
Is it a fault ?" she asked.
No; but 1t is reproach to the less de
/, vout"
5 To yourself, then2 Wilhelm, whei
will you work? When will you cleave t
your easel, and be lOath and sick at hear
to leave it? DO you have quilted work fo
to day, and there remain five more goo
hours of daylightr'
Wilhelm blushed. He was quite cres
fallen at his reception. Had the blue vel
vet and silver edging so much effect a
this?
al have nearly finished the picture of tn
dead falcon and the jewelled goblet"
Maria shook her head sorrowingly.
You have not finished it as you shnul
finish it, Wilhelm. You may leave d
work-you may let it 60 from your easel
you may barter it for a good price-but yol
will yet know in your heart that it is not
work such as should bear the name of Val
Allst. Why will you paint for to day, 70
the present hour, to supply your mer
needs, and heed for nothing else2 Yo'
must wish to live, Wilhelm, to be some.
thing in the future, to have your nam
honored, and your works cherished. You
owe this to yourself. Paint fewer picture
and work more"
have not your talent, gentle Maria.
You have more than my. poor talent
Wilhelm, thousand times. With all my
labor, pouring out my life at the foot of mn