Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-12-28
RAYS ONLY LOVE ;
BY Lillian IRVING.

BY Lillian IRVING.
The opening exhibition of the Art
Society was crowded that day. The
long room, with it's wealth of painting
Ind statuary, seemed a temple fit for the
gods, and the public, in all their various
ways, were enjoying it. For the public
II orr period are much concerned with
ninGs artistic, and take art exhibitions
t. /. natural part of their daily bread,
Il, inaienable right of their inherit
.snCe.
Ray Converse was saunterjng dream
lily about the room, passing u few idle
hours, more for the sake Of passing
them than for any very absorbing ap-
probation he felt just then for the
treasures OF art surrounding him. Once
he had cared for these things so much.
He thought of it now half-sadly, half
amused, as we sometimes turn back to
look at our past selves as at another in
dividual. That was in the days he had
known Genevieve Kelsey. He had
cared for her, too, with that silent, alb
Sorbing, passionate devotion of his
which was part Of his mature. She
did not herself realize the depth of his
love, though she was more near to re-
spending to it than she knew, till Ralph
Eveleth came in her way and had
seemed to strangely fascinate her. He
was handsome mana man of socie
ty, who seemed blase with the world,
who was accustomed to have his cwn
way, and who had run the whole scale
of enjoyment of dissipation.
Yet he was refined and gentlemenly,
and-only the Au-seeing eye could tell
how-he and Genevieve Kelsey seemed
strangely attached from the first.
When Ray Converse first found that
he could not win this fair woman he let
go all the strands that had made life
beautiful to him and went out to the
far West. He had been roughing it
there for ten years. During that time
life had been one stern reality to him.
Yet, with it's CLEANS of finer things, he
learned to love the symphony of color
when the sunset fires burned low in the
west with such tints as never an artist
brush had caught; the purple hue that
stole softly over mountains and plains
embodied him in it's hush Of peace. The
stars that shone above him were not
purer than his life, nor colder; for no
woman's touch could set his pulses
thrilling. How could it, after he had
known Geneyieve Kelsey?
1t had been a fancy Of his t. pass the
New Years Eve Of this year at home
among the quiet Kentucky hills, and
now, within a few hours journey, he
detained in ST, Estavenne by miss
ing a train. All! he little dreamed
what destiny meant when she sent that
train without him.
The city life surged about him with
it's bltter-sweet memories and associa-
tions. His thoughts strayed unaccount-
ably backward. Some spring of memory
was touched, and long-silent melodies
flowed forth.
His half-dreaming thoughts were sud-
denly arrested by face, before which
he paused in sudden eagerness. It was
q medallion, woman's face wrought in
marble. There was no mistaking that
face-the sight of which thrilled and
touched him with all the old nameless
magn etism. He turned to the catalogue,
but the number was only entered as "a
Sketch" but he knew it was the face of
Geneyieve Kelsey. In almost less time
than it could be told he was on his way
to the studio of the sculptor who had
modelled the sketch. Some sudden
prophetic instinct stirred within him
and impelled him with wild eagerness
of hope. In all these years he had not
heard of Miss Kelsey. He did not
know, he did not want to know, any
thing OF the old life, since she would
now make life bright for him. He had
taken it for granted, indeed he had
vaguely heard, that she had married
Eveleth, and further he never inquired.
But some intuitional hope, for whose
existence he could not account, hurried
him out into the chill gray of that No.
vember afternoon. The brief glow had
already faded into the dull twilight, and
the gas was lighted here and there as
he hurried through the crowded streets.
A chill wind sprung up from the east.
4 city, like an individual, has her
own moods and lenses, and if one lin
gers long within her gates one comes
to individualize her. st. Estavenne
had changed to Mr.. Converse since he
entered it that morning, and he jour-
neyed on with but one thought in his
mind. Was he near Genevieve Kelsey?
He felt that consciousness of presence
which is to us oil an ever-old, ever-new
miracle.
The picture of that night when he
had seen her last came wildly before
him. By the right Of his own love he
had entreated her to tell him if there
was no hope, if she were irrevocably
pledged to Ralph Eveleth, and she had
given him all her confidence.
II know all his faults" she had said,
@but I love him."
"But, my darling, he is so utterly I'M
worthy of you" he replied, thinking of
her happiness before he thought of his
own: ooh! my love, you will have a
hard life if it is once linked with his.
If he were worthier you than I, I could