The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1879-12-17


the fair-haired child. lie had seen
her oftsnI and had always looked u,
her with bpt. the eyes of an artist.
Now it seemtd to him that he look.
ed ut her with the eyes Of a jealous
lover That night and the next day
seened interminable to him; and
long before the appointed hour he
was in the glade, 49,,
He worked alone, and when The
young girl arrived a little late al.
ready playing the coquette- she was
quite surprised
It.isreally mel said she. alYill
yon give tito me2s ~
NO, / will make you one for your
SELF
=. 4 Ind 9s,,y shas, one, what viii You d
III VIII go to Parls, lt7wIH be put
in a large frame, it will be hung in q
beautiful gallery, and every one will
come, and look at it." 81.
"Ahl yes, ] know, in the Exhibi.
tion."
aHaye YOU heard of the Exh;bi.
tion2a
"There are gentlemen painters here
who work for the Exhibition, us
they say, but they never took my
portrait"
Daylight was fading gently; Maur.
ice found, as on the preceding even
ing, the exquisite soft tints which
had so charmed him, and his work
advanced u hundred cubits toward
posterity.
He saw her again several times be.
meath the checkered daylight of his
impoverished studio, and he took
pleasure in making this work his
best one. Already celebrated be had
mouse TO make himself a name, and
yet he was sure that this picture
would put the seal to his renown.
BY the time he was quite satisfied
with it winter had come, and Maur.
ice loved his little model. He loved
her too much to tell her SO, too much
to sully the feld-hower of whom he
could not make his wife, but enough
to suffer at the thought of leaving
her. She had none of those qualities
which secure the happiness of a life
neither depth of feeling nor the de
votion which causes us to forge,
everything, nor the passion which is
an. an excuse for. everything; she was !,
pretty ficld-fower, a little vain, q
little coquettish, with no great faults
nor yet great virtues. Maurice knew
that she was not for him, and yet he
loved the graceful lines of her figure
as yet scarcely developed, and which
her home-spun gown chastity enfold
ed without Disgusting. He loved The
deep eyes, the laughing mouth, the
fair hair that was always in disor
der, the little handkerchief tied
across her breast-he loved itall, and
it was with reluctance that he went
away. We always go away with re.
luctance when we have nothing tc
hope for on our return 1t Is so hard
to leave behind a bit Of ones life o.
which nothing is to remain.
He carried away his picture, how.
ever, and it was before it that he
passed his happiest hours that win
ter, always perfecting work which
was always perfect. The picture
was admired; the critics, who were
unanimous in their enthusiasm, de
clared that such faces could not exis,
excepting in the brain of poet OF
in the Imagination of a painter
Maurice listened, smiling, and kept
for himself the secret of the sweet
face that had inspired him. He re-
ceived brilliant offers for his picture
never had so high price been offer
ed for any of his works; but he refus
ed, and he refused also to allow it tc
be copied. Since he was never tc
possess anything of his model but
her likeness, he intended that that
should be his alone.
Autumn was drawing near when
he returned to the village; twice had
the fires of st. John seen the whirls
of the merry dance since he had
painted the portrait, and when he
thought of the young girl it was
with a smile that was somewhat sac