The Red Cloud chief., 1877-12-06

another misfortune fell heavily upon
! him; his father failed and died a bank
rupt and he was a beggar.
When the worst was known, he c
| ded to turn his artistic abilities into q
remunerative channel, and with that
intention he painted a tiny picture-~A
mountain scene" they called it. 1t was
the picture of a silvery lake. a towering
mountain, a man and a girl-that was
| all. And when Valena CharlewOOd saw
it she wept, and the world wondered
why.
Then she said to herself she would
like to paint like that-tO draw upon a
piece of canvas the living beauties OF
the earth, and of the sky, and OF the sea.
And that was why Vivian s.. Roy had
seen her so often during the last year,
and why he saw her to-day. She was
his pupil.
You look tired" she said, softly. "You
are OverwOrking yourself, l fear"
The voice was as sweet as a linnets
song, and it thrilled Vivian st. Roy
through and through.
1.-THE poor must work, Miss Charlie
wood" he answered, land l am misera.
bly, poor, ever to beggary. All, If l were
but RICH"
She watched him narrowly. If he were
rich-what then? Would it matter
aught to her?
"You do not crave riches" she said.
"But for one thing"
"And that?"
Could she not see he was suffering
suffering the intensest agony a man can
suffer-the agony of a bleeding heart
and secret love.
"And that p she repeated once more.
"Would make me your equal. Valena."
She laughed scornfully.
my equal! Vivian st. Roy, you are
that now-ay, wen more, for l am far
beneath you'll have been in the DUST"
She closed her g~littering eyes in an
odd, graceful way that made him start
that brought back to him the faded,
broken memory of a day long, long
years ago, aglorious September day, glo-
rious with its opal sunshine and crimson
trees. and of a tiny, dark faced girl who
lay half dead at his feet; it reminded
him of the pictures he had panied in
the darkest hours of his life, over which
beautiful Valena ChariewOOd had wept;
it reminded him of Nisma Balfour.
you are lost in thought" she said,
unwilling her lustrous eyes. "Of what
and whom are you hinkingr"
"Of Nisma BalfOur."
She had risen to her feet, and was
standing, white and mOtionless, before
HIM
Go on" was all she said, and he
Obeyed.
Il rescued her, years ago, from death
and sent her to my sister. But she new
er went to Elise. Perhaps after l left her
she again flung herself into the lake. 1t
was over her picture you wept.
"And that Is why 1 wept, Vivian St.
Roy"
"Whyp"
Because 1 was Nisma Balfour!"
She was kneeling at his feet.
"YOu-nO-nO! Not you" he gasped.
Eyes. it was 1. Twas Nisma Balfour,
and the reason l lever went to your
sister is this: an old, white haired wo-
man met me on the train, and she
thought l Iesembled her child; perhaps
l did; be that as it may, she adopted me.
and gave me that dead child's name,
and when SIZE died made me her heir
ess!"
He was dazzled almost beyond com.
~prehensiOn, and she went on.
"Yes, l am lowly Nisma Balfour.
Years ago you tore me me from deaths
embrace, and 1 have come to save you
from a life Of weary toil-from a life of
death. Vivian, 1 love you-love you in
your misfortune and your weakness
love you for yourself alone"
He caught her in his arms, with a glad, |
glad cry.
"Mine-mine-mineT'
Eyes. yours, she whispered, yours
forever"
And so Valena Charlewood blessed
Vivian st. Roy with her love. The
world called him a cripple: she called
him her king; and the bread he cast
upon the water has returned unto him
a thousand fold acerly Magazine.
MIR. Dana Mt Ninety. |