Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1878-11-29
that he hated my father-''

"WhO was it, Edith ~ asked Mrs. Girl
erson, coming back to her easy chair.
; "Some one from the society, mamma -
said Edith, choking her rage.
.sDoes any one want to buy your pic
| ture ?''
.ssNo, no, mamma; am only advised to
| put it in SHELLS widow, shall do it, and
Well, we shall see.''
All the rest of the morning Edith sat
nursing her anger as she piled brush and
pencil. Her modification was gone. and
in it's stead burned fierce hatred toward
Stretton. She would never forgive him,
she vowed holly; would never, never for
give him. And she would be famous yet,
and powerful, too. Perhaps the day
might cone when the tables would be
turLed. "Abominably bad - The pic
ture should go to SHELLS that very after
noon, and the public should Judge, as Mr..
Boggs suggested.
And to SHELLS it went, but not to re-
main long. The next morning, when
Edith passed the shop, no blue and brick
color Macbeth graced the window. With
quite sensation" she entere d, and lear
ned that it had been sold an hour before
| to gentleman who would like two more
Shakesperian subjects if she would paint
J them.
What an impetus that gave her! The
path to glory seemed to be opening before
her. She walked home as if crowned
with laurel. and entered the little semi
detached house as she would the temple of
fame. The two Shakespearean subjects
met with success, and put few pounds
in Edith's slender purse. Mrs. Grierson
began to complain that Edith never left
her easel now except to go to SHELLS; then
Edith would comfort her by promising her
all sorts of Injuries when she would be
royal academician, or something equiv
alent to it.
Edith had the languid Italian tempera-
ment, inherited frame from her mother,
but she also had the Italian vengefulnes,
and the insult she had received was a spur
to her ambition. She worked and studied
early and late. and if ever her energy flag
ged, one thought of the words that had
been spoken, and the reason for which they
were said, would sting her to the quick,
and nerve her to even greater energy than
before.
The path was much less thorny than she
had expected; she found herself she scarce
ly knew how, put in the way of good mod
els and words of instruction. The one or
two celebrated artists began to notice the
pictures with "E. Co. tucked away in one
corner, and the quiet little studio often
held many an 'R. A." Edith had long
since removed to "real studio" as Mrs.
Grierson called it, and revelled in the
good light and abundance of room, her
pictures gaining color and strength like
plants. None of them aspired to be ''scenes
from Macbeth now, ssE. G." had gained
modesty with knowledge, and knew what
was beyond her depth.
The years passed quickly by sometimes.
and yet worked wondrous changes, and
when five had been counted from that
May day when Macbeth was turned out of
the exhibition, &c. CO. found herself real
ly famous and nearly rich. Her mother
could no longer lament by-gone days on
the score of lodgings, for pretty villa at
Bayswater was their home, and the semi
detached house was nightmare CT the
past.
Time cannot accomplish all things, how
ever, and he had failed to quench Edith's
bitter hatred toward Stretton, that burned
as fiercely as when, a lustrum ago, she had
at first heard that he had reviled her pic
ture out of spite. The tables were turned;
she rich and he was poor; she was famous
and his name was scarcely known; yet it
seemed as if her triumph lacked the climax
of revenge. But the time was not far dis
tant when the finishing touch could be ad-
ded if she chose.
One evening at little dinner party given
in her houor, Edith heard that Stretton
was very ill, and in really destitute cir
cumstance. She sat perfectly silent, while
small fire of calculations ran round the
table, Nearly every one knew and liked
Strelton, and were awfully sorrow, or very
much distressed, as their inclinations were
toward slang or pure English. Some won-
dered that with his rare talent, he had not
been more successful pecuniarily; but he
was rather dilettaaate in art: it was such
a pity; something must be done, etc..
etc., etc.
The fact was that Stretton was too true
an artist to- become tradesman in his
profession. He studied nature, and scorn-
ed all tricks, those tricks that make mo-
ney in this world. Alas he was before
his age. Yet he was by no means fail
ure, and people were just beginning dimly
TO appreciate his wonderful ability, when
this illness game and s'kpopked his labors
all endways," as little Roggs would phrase
it. But that same illness brought out the
kind stauneh English hearts, and his
heart. and his friends became admirers,
and his admirers friends, as the subject |
was discussed over fish and game. Edith |
looked grim, and asked for his address,
which she took down carefully in her note
book
The following day she thought the whole
thing out in her mind, she would go and
visit him in all he glory of her prosperity;
abe would let him see that the artist whose
picture he had treated with such open
scorn had found success: but. She
checked herself; it was not right to give
way to such feelings. The poor fellow was
sick and helpless she could not go to see
him just from revenge. She began to think
that cherished hatred had warped one side
of her nature: 0Aca che would have
shrunk with horror from trampling on
a fallen foe" hitting fellow when he's
down." He certainly had behaved con-
but. Well she would forgive
him, and go to him in Christian charity;
and at the same time she would not object