Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1872-12-05

in the extensive and prosperous estab
lishment of Messrs. Abednego and Mel
chisedek; but this miserably- paid
drudgery did not long suit Miss Polly
She was unhappy, and grew desperate
or rather determined. Sanguine in her
youthful hopefulness, che suddenly
discharged herself, and trusted to the
chapter of accidents. One day, when
very poor, Polly strolled into the park.
Sitting down upon bench, still and
quiet as an Arctic winter night, she
do, what she should do, to earn her liv-
ing. 1t was early spring; the painters
were hard at work for the Academy,
and good models were scarce. Frank
Ormond happened to be passing by.
He wanted girl-model, and his paint
er's eye was struck by little Polly's face
and figure. He spoke to her, and pro-
posed that she should come and sit for
him. Polly consented, and went the
next morning to his studio. She had
found a new trade, which she rather
liked, and which, as she gradually ac-
quired a connection among painters,
paid her moderately well. She grew
attached to the free and easy Bohemian
ways of the studio. and was soon
launched as a well known and popular
ting for Joan of Arc, first made her
acquaintance. Polly, by the way, al
ways had a superstition about the park,
and believed that it was place which
drought her good luck" 81 first met
you, Mr.. Ormond, in the park, she used
at times to say, "and ! am sure that
some day some great good fortune will
happen to me in that dear old park.
I often sit upon that bench where you
first saw me. All, 1 vas badly off
then"
The life of model is not without
perils and temptations to young girl;
but Polly trod safely her rather danger
GUS path with a firm, light step. Her
innocence was not ignorance; for she
saw and heard a great deal, and under
stood all that she saw or heard. With
out protectors or advisers, lonely but
selfreliant, the girl walked along the
edge of unfenced precipices circum-
specify and shrewdly. She was ardent,
and perhaps ambitious, but had a GER
tain integrity of will and quiet force of
character which held her upright. Very
unconsciously. the little lowly thing was
a sort of worldly heroine.
Natural character, and the influences
of the circumstances which surrounded
and nodded it, produced some rather
complex contradictions and problems in
our model. Seen in some aspects you
would yepronounced her to be a little
good-for.nothing; merry and pleasant,
indeed, but worthless. Yet you would
have judged her wrongly had you based
an opinion upon the superficial trivial
ties which she turned outside. She
never made any pretense of goodness;
she rather took pains to show her worst
side, to appear worse than she really
was. She had naturally light side to
her character, and she emphasized her
levity in all that she showed of her
self to others. Nor was she, at times,
wholly free from passing thrills of temp
tation; but, like the needle of the COM
pass, which, though it vibrates tremu-
lously, yet ultimately points always
rightly, she gravitated back infallibly to
good. A creature by no means too
bright or good for human natures daily
food, there was in her that "mystic
sense of right" which so stirred the en-
thusiasm of the German philosopher.
Exposed to so much danger, sustained
by SO little help against evil, some un-
seen power kept this girl always really
pure and good. She had, no doubt,
tendresse for Frank Ormond, but then
that there was, as she termed it, "no
use" in indulging such a feeling; and,
taught by her the hard lessons of her
life, she had learned to repress, to re-
strain and to forego.
One morning, when Frank was Just
finishing his we'll known picture of the
execution of Lady Jane Gray, in which
Polly, of course, "sat" for the victim
Queen, the young lady, at the conclu-
SION of the sitting, said very quietly:
"You won't want me any more, Mr..
Ormond. You've finished that picture,
head and all, now. Pm glad of it, be-
cause I shouldn't be able to come to
you again."
"Now come again, Polly, why not2
suppose you are very. full of engage
ments just now; but you mustn't throw
me over. shall want you next for my
Dorothea."
"I'm very sorry, Mr.. Ormond, but 1
shan't ever be able to come again."
"Not be able to come again-what the
deuce do you mean, Polly?" asked
Frank, rather pettishly, as he relieved"
the headsman with a deft touch. "I
suppose you're getting too rich?-no, it
can't be that. You must come. There's
no model at all like you for some of my
WOTk. An, L SS6I i We D00n SpOOn-
ing with some fellow, or in trouble, eh,
Miss Poll?'
NO." replied the young lady, with
demure dignity, "no trouble, thank you,
Mr.. Frank. The fact isl can't come,
because-because Pm going to get mar
ried."
"Married-whewl' cried the painter,
facing around from the easel and taking
his pipe out of his mouth. married,
Pollyl l never heard about that-who
is it? What sort of a fellow? A good
one, hope, for your sake"
"Never mind, Mr.. Frank" responded
Miss Polly, composedly. "Perhaps you'll
know some day, but not now. Thank
you for all your kindness, Mr.. Ormond.
You've always been very kind to me,
and IL like you very much. Yes; I'm
doing very well, thank you. He is q
good fellow-I like him, and l mean
that we shall be very happy. But when
am married L can't ever sit any more
if you please"
Frank Ormond growled discontented
ly. He did not like losing his mod, l.
and he felt a vague jealousy of the un
known. There was a sneer in his tone
as he said:
81 suppose, Polly, you have caught
some old fool, who is taken with a pret
ty face, and your union will be about al
xuoodhinn =