Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1871-11-15
BARTON MARIE.

81 will stake my professionalreputa-
tion on the result! J" cried the doctor
warmly. Why do you doubt my
Judgment after all the years you have
known me, and the high opinion YOU
have frequently been SO good as to say
you hold regarding my skill in these
matters?
FEI doubt neither your knowledge nor
your Judgment, Gray, returned Marie,
sharply; E'but I do fear the re-
suit; and [ shrink from 1T with a ter
ror which [ cannot find words to ex-
press"
Why, Barton?" said the doctor.
"What can you fear after you tell me
you believe IN my assurance of your
wife's safety under the operation?"
Barton Marie returned no answer for
some minutes, but sat with his face be-
tween his hands, his eyes staring at
the carpet, brooding deeply. Then,
at last looking up and holding out his
hand to the doctor, he said, |'g give me
till tomorrow, Gray, before I say yes
or no. It is not long to wait. God
knows how much hangs upon the an
swer, both for Alice and myself.
Doctor Gray frowned slightly, shrug-
ged his shoulders with the gesture of a
man who gives up a difficult problem,
and rose from his chair.
F'Till tomorrow, then," he said, {" if
you wish to defer it, [ feel sure as to
what your decision will be. Good
day."
So Barton Marie was left alone. He
never moved when the doctor went
| from the room, but still sat with his ell
bows resting on the arms of the chair,
his head still buried between his white,
b in hands. The last red rays of the
| wintry sun stole in upon him, and
wrought the pattern of the old-fash-
Ioned windows upon the wall. When
they had faded quite away, and the
stars cleaned frostily through the leaf
less branches of trees that fronted the
house, he rose from his chair, and
commenced to pace up and down the
| room. The servant, bringing in
| Lighted lamp, was dismissed roughly.
Marie wanted no light TO read the Sc
crets of his own sad heart by.
The morning light, breaking coidIy
over the river, found the tenant of that
quaint red brick house at Chelsea still
pacing slowly to and fro; but his medi-
| tfUlOlIo Hd0i COult W jill e1lCl-hdTlS nall
formed his resolution at last.
X x K X
To the world-or at least to that
section of it which bestows any thought
upon matters relating te Art-Barton
was known as painter of rare excel
lence, who, eschewing the portrayal of
The ugly and dark side of nature, in
which SO many seem to revel, loved
only to paint the things that appealed
| to his sense of the beautiful. His can
vas, when hung for exhibition in the
room of the Royal Academy, presented
nothing to awaken astonishment in the
breasts of the crowd that painters
should seek out models so gaunt and
| h1deous, or scenes SO barren and unin-
| terestlng. Only harmonious tones and
graceful forms cleaned on them from
the pictures to which Marie's name was
affixed in the catalogue.
| No doubt many of the fair women
who gathered, like radient parterre
OF flowers, round his works, guilelessly
associated in some way the man with
his work, and thought of him as being
| who could never grow old, but remain
forever q youthful, splendid creature.
with dark, flowing locks, brilliant eyes,
and pale, intellectual face. Alas,
Barton Marie is on the dark side Of
| forty; what little hair he ever possessed
is fast turning gray; his brow is fur
rowed with many lines of thought; his
| eyes are dull and sunken, and his face
is marked mercilessly with the traces
of smallpox. Worse than all, he is
| deformedl
There you have the whole story of
Marle's life, briefly told That deform-
| lty, magnitied threefold by his morbid
ly sensitive imagination, has embitter-
ed his whole existance; has made him
| shrink from all contact with his fellow
man that could by any means be avoid
ed, has made him doubt, as you will
presently see, even his own wife.
! Through all the long hours of the
night which we have seen he passed
after DIR. Gray's visit, the burning sense
OF being different from other men has
6tung and racked him with q thousand
tortures, and caused him to debate so
| long in his own mind before coming to
| q determination.
| OF the ordinary pleasures of life Bar
ton Marie had scarcely any knowledge.
Long ago, in that brief period which he
called his boyhood, and before the
| knowledge came of his being so differ
| ent from those about him, he had in
deed cherished vague dreams of love
of some impossibly beautiful woman
who should one day beam upon him,
and to whom he might confde all the
| sweet thoughts that thrilled like music
through his soul, and which he never
dared to tell to any one on earth But
tue happy vision was soon dispelled.
Contact with the world the world that