The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1879-11-13
yielded for a time to the constant.
dumb anguish of patience.

| yielded for time to the constant.
dumb anguish of patience.
/ Then came other DAYS. Youth and
/ hope are strong, and the forces of her
character asserted themselves. It was
then that that rare courage and sweet
ness that characterized her rose to de-
termine and shape her life. It was this
subtle ineness and strength of her
! nature that Ray Converse had felt in
her, and which had always so appealed
to him. In many ways he knew her
better than she knew herself. In his
heart he always carried her sacredly,
and he consecrated to her the deepest
j rev erence of his nature. Half uncon-
sciously he sometimes felt that the
time would come in her life when she
would have need of him, and he held
himself pure and strong above his pain
for this time.
SO absorbed was he In all the scenes
/ which memory had arried him back
ward that he reached the studio of
which he was in search with feeling
of surprise. i
The crimson curtains were closely
drawn, and the sculptor sat alone among
his marbles. These men touched COM
mon ground at once. st. John had all
the keen instincts that are the birth
| right of every artist, and he understood
the silent intensity of Mr.. Converse's
feelings when he asked who was the
subject of the artists sketch.
cit was modelled from the face of a
young lady friend of mine-Miss Kel-
sey," politely replied St. John, and the
face of MIR. Converse grew luminous.
| "Will you permit me to ask her ad-
dress, sir? She is an old friend of
mine" he said, and, penciling the num-
Der and street st. John gave him, with
hearty clasp of the sculptor's hand he
babe him good-evening.
| "Genevieve has never married Eve
leth,' was his one thought; "please
God, she may be my Genevieve yet"
| Miss Kelsey sat alone that Thanks
giving eve. The east wind had kept it's
promise, and cold rain had set in-one
of those dreary, dripping, despairing
rains, that have no beginning and no
ending-so Genevieve he'd said to her.
self,as her thoughts kept rhythmic time
to the measured beat of that despairing
storm. A vague restlessness had taken
possession of her that evening. It was
a new thing for her to yield to it. Eight
years of life, crowded with work, had
somewhat modified the old girlish en-
thusiasm of her nature. For it was
eight years since Ralph Eveleth had
drifted out of her life. She had grown
to look calmly at the old sorrow and
comprehend that it were best; to feel
that she had grown stronger and purer,
and that it is but moral degradation
for woman to love what is unworthy
Of her love. She thought of the words {:
She cannot look down to her lover; her love- like
her soul, aspires.
He must stand by her side, or above her, who
would kindle it's hottest fires. o.
For two years she had trusted Ralph
Eveleth; she had hoped against hope ;
she had believed in him and suffered by
him as only a loving woman can suffer.
Unasked, her heart made all the ex-
cuses for him. She placed him always
in the mental perspective of a good
light. She was patient and tender, and
at last when the bitter hpowleAw was
forced upon her that it was all iii vain,
that the man she loved had no existence
save in her own idealization of him, she
had felt that life, in it's best sense, was
over for her; she was not much given to
the consolation of poetry or philosophy,
but in all those dark, despairing days a
line OF Mrs. Browning's haunted her:
And having missed some personal hope,
Beware that thus miss no reasonable duty.
In work and in living in other lives
Miss Kelsey strove to forget the past
no, not to forget-but to overlap it with
earnest, genuine living. She would not
be warped Or narrowed by suffering
God had made her too noble for that.
OF the silent intensity of the love
Ray Converse had for her she had
never fully realized. Absorbed in her
thoughts of another she failed to COM
prehend all he had endured, when he
felt that for her happiness he must leave
her. Afterward she had cause to know
how tender and steadfast was his love.
and sometimes it rested her to remem-
Der it. She thought how happy must
the woman be whom his love embodied,
for that he had married she never dues-
toned. au.
| Now she knew that the highest love
of her life had never been given to
Ralph; that he had not the power to
call it from her.
These eight years of her life in ST..
Estavenne had been years of earnest
work in her art. Two days in each
week she received her pupils in paint
ing; others she worked in her studio.
This last year the silent intensity of
her nature had found expression in a
book which had met success that sur
passed her highest expectations. This
book was the inevitable outgrowth of
all she had lived through, for to the ar
tistic nature expression is a necessity.
Nothing could have more conclusively
proved how she had outgrown her love
for MIR. Eveleth than her power to
write this book, with it's rare analytical
Characterization. All that had died in
| her heart lived IN her brain with oddod