The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1873-09-11
THE ARTISTS HOPE; OR THE in
M SEPARATION OF A ROSE. 49,
(cHAPTER M coNTINUED.)

every ole VINO behcld 1t, Ior-"What q
perfect rose!' "How lovely!" One could
almost iphale fragr ncs from it, so pure
aud fresh it looks!' and similar wordspi
praise were daily bestowed upon it while
1t remained before the public gaze.
A purchaser soon appeared, hewever,
ana Rays heart Was gIaddened by his
first wellearned remuneration. He fell
that he had gained foothold, from whence
be could work and win his way upward,
and, in time, make fer himself name
onnong men. That simple painting of a
rose IVES indeed the sreppins-stene TO fu-
ture wealth and fame. The brush and
Uencii were no longer allowed to. remain
lille, and Ray soon found his vocation
prrfitoble enough to admit of his entire
His mothers anxiety was dispelled,and
her heart rejoiced by his frequent cheer
ing letters, and his fathers prejudice
against his chosen vocotion was percepta
bly lesseulng. He was, indeed, rather
proud Of one picture which adorned their
old fashioned psrlor--an oil painting in
IA elel ant frame, which Ray had sent
home from Boston. 7a9s stsgi.
Il was not long before Ray Harlands
name was mentioned in circles of art and
literature as the handsome and rising
young artist. But, strangely enough, with
his struggles and ,discoursgements all iu
the past, with brilliant future opening
before him, Ray grew restless and unhap.
py.
The days g lded by, until they were
numbered by mouths, and even years
marked his stay in our busy city-and
Boston seemed Rays home. a.-.
[ He had formed many acquaintance
had found some valued friends-who all
agreed that he was too much devoted to
his art.
They affirmed that he was too studious,
too averse to gay rociety. They declared
it strange, too, that he did not fall in love
with some of the fascinating fair ones
who so much admired him. They never
guessed how constantly his thoughts
were wandering in the ps st to that bright
vision which had once crossed his path
way, inspired him with hope and courage.
reused al his latent genius, and-alasl
had vanished so suddenly and left no
trace! They never dreamed that, in his
Utmost soul. he did love, even to idolatry-
worship, what was little better than an
idol. The one hope of his life. was that,
somehow, somewhere, their dlTerging
paths might blend again!
He had, indeed, sought her
child though she was-who had so in :
| f1Genced his life. Often he had walked
slowly, watchfully through that street;
but she came no more. He ha followed
i: far out into the country, where it be
came quiet, shaded road, with neat cot
tage houses and handsome mansions, be-
tokening every comfort and convenience
until that became his habitual walk when
in thoughtful mood
He knew the young girl must have
been in humble circnm stances, for her
dress was very plain; while her anxiety
in regard to the flowers showed her de
pendence upon them for support-to some
extent at least.
Once it happened in one of his solitary
walks that be paused beside large gar
den, filed with many-hued flowers, in
their richest bloom. He had many times
admired this place, and now seeing q
pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman
busily engaged there, he ventured an ap.
proYeing remark, to which the lady kind.
ly responded, evidently accustomed to
seeing strangers admire the we'll arranged
ample beds:
"But I do not attempt to keep them in
such regular order as'they formerly were
nor to care for SO many" she added; "the
lady who lived here before me gave most
of her time to their cultivation"
Rays heart gave sudden bound. Per.
haps be was now to learn something OF
the fairy Sybilette, for he we'll remember
ed her singular name, as we'll as that OF