Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1863-01-15

long ago exhausted. On the other hand,
habit had completely mastered all the irk-
someness of the business. The lady SEEM
ed hardly less tired of sitting than Peter of
painting. She knew to nicely when she
was correctly posed; detected, to half an
inch, when her fingers strayed from their
position in the picture; perceived directly
when any of the amber tendriI ringlets be-
came strsgglers from tie main body; and
then the large blue eyes, how we'll aware
they were OF the exact knot in the oak
wainscoat, upon which two years ago, they
had been directed to fix themselves!
True, they wandered now and then
took circling flights like birds, alighted at
one time upon the blonde head OF Peter
now upon the mirror with twenty-f
satellite mirrors-now upon Peters pipe
now upon the leather-covered knob of
Peters mahl stick-now upon the tiny
little sable pencils with which Peter
seemed to be working on the panel as
though with needles upon copper-and
now with rwinkling smile dancing about
the corners of the rosy lips, upon Peters
empty brown jug in the corner; but they
| always turned back again, and settled f
nally on the knob in the waistcot, as
| though that were their proper nest and
home, and all other alighrng places mere
| temporary caravanseras, useful enough,
| but not to be mistaken for a moment for
| permanent residences.
At last the lady had refreshed her eyes
| by two Or three of these visual voyages,
and found that there was nothing more to
be done-no more entertainments to be de-
rived in that way-and ever so little sigh
started up and escaped from her heart,
through the half open easement of her
! lips. Peter was not slow to hear it; be
blushed-his hand trembed little, be
was nearly making mistake, going Just
| the thousandth part of an inch or so cut
of his course.
!" tire you, madame"
No." said the lady. and her ewes set.
tied on his moustache. She had sweet,
low, languid sort of voice. "But will
it soon be done p
1t seemed as though some words were
about to issue from under the moustache,
but Peter checked himself, bowed bis
head, and gave touch or two to the del.
icate gray hslf tints on the lady's fore.
head. Then came another little sigh
Peter stopped as though he had been
wounded; quite a change came over him
All, he loved the fair widow In his mi
croscopic, Datch way, he had gone loving
her for two years; it had been in a min.
iature sort Of fashion, had gone niggling
| on, but it was now complete and fin
| ished business. You might look at it in
all lights, examine it Low you would, pore
into it with msgnifying glass, you could
lind no flaw In it; it was very whole, web
and woot, ighly.wrought, exquisite, del
icate, perfect piece of passion. Peter was
wounded by the signs. He rose up.
Z" tire you, madam" he said again, so
boldly that the widow seemed alarmed
She deprecated his anger; would have
given the world to have had the signs
back again safe and sound, tight prisoners
In he- bosom.
| will paint no more then. Let US say
that the portrait is finished. 1t has been
two years about, and it would take two
years more; aye and more than that"
The lady shrunk back at this. Peter went
on in low voice, glancing alternately at
the lady and the picture:
"No; it would take life, and then it
would not be completedp
The lady quite clasped her hands in her
distress at this. A whole life sitting for
ones portrait! Was Peter mad? He
understood her astonishment, and gave
his explanation slowly and rather confus-
eddy, and with his cheeks decidedly red.
There are some graces that cannot be
portrayed, some traits that cannot be imi
tated, some charms which it is wholly
impossible to render. [ might try all my
lite; might spend all my days before that
panel, and still the portrait might never
be completed to my thinking. Madam, it
could never be you; it could never be
more than the feeblest shadow of you.
The lady was decidedly pleased, yet
amazed, perhaps frightened. You see the
late burgomaster had not made love thus.
Then may send for the picture ?"
she said, at last, softly.
Poor Peter bowed his head, sadly af-
firmative.
widow, but she did it simply, without
malice-at least, think so-or it might
be Intentionally, to be firm, and end the
thing, as people strike hard blows to get
the sooner at the termination Of a fight.
There were quiet tears in Peters eyes.
No money can repay nae, madam
But the poor fellow stopped short; there
was something 10 his throat that would
not let the words pass out,
For your labor know it has been
great, incessant, butt
B" Not that" and Peters pride conquer
ed his sobs. Nothing can compensate me
tor the less of the picture it has been
my whole sole thought and occupation for
two years; it has been the ceaseless iov
and light OF my studio. That gone, and
this room is dark dungeon; my life as a
blind mans, who can never hope to see
the sun again. | love it, | love it! PRAY
don't take 1t from me; it is priceless,
priceless ]" and he sank on his knees be.
fore the panel. 1t was delicate way of
making love to the widow; a little CON-
Picated, perhaps, but still very effective.
She could not possibly be offended bv it,
and 1t might touch her very nearly, and it
did. 1t was really very artful plan of
the simple Peters.
The widow came quite close to him,
and she was trembling and fattering
good deal, and quite tempest of emotion
was surging in Der white neck. She bent
over Peter hiding his face LOW in his
hands, till her golden ringlets mingled
with Peters blond locks
" Will nothing repay you?" and her
soft, warm breath stirred the dry blonde
looks as breeze cornfed.
Nothing, nothing, nothing!" moaned
Peter pltiously.
"Not even this"
And her little plump hand (white satin
lined with pink, as Peter had described it
to MAXI stole down and crept into his
To give money? A ring, perhaps9 No;
it was empty Dull Peter! he was an