The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1879-12-03
RAYS ONLY LOVE.
Or, What Thanksgiving Brought.
BY LILLIAN IRVING.

bI Lillian Inv icN-
The opening exhibition of the Art society
was crowded that day. The long room, with
its wealth of painting and statuary, seemed
temple fit for the gods, and the public, in all
their various ways, were enjoying it. Forthe
public of our period are much concerned with
things artistic, and take art exhibitions as >.
natural part of their daily bread, an inalien-
able right of their inheritance
Ray Converse was sauntering dreamngly
about the room, passing a few idle hours,
more for the sake of passing them than for
any very absorbing appreciation he felt just
then for the treasures of art surrounding him.
Once he had cared for these things so much
He thought of 1t now half-sadly, half-amused
as we sometimes turn back to look at our
past selves as at another individual That
was in the days he had known Genevieve
Kelsey. He had cared for her, too, with that
silent, abrorbing, passionate devotion of his
which was a part of his nature. She did
not herself realize the depth of his love
though she was more near to respond
ing 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 society, who
seemed blase with the world, who was accus-
toned to have his own way, and who had run
the whole scale of enjoyment-perhaps of
dissipation, Yet he was refined and gentle
manly, and-only the all-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 10 years. During
that time life had been one stern reality to
him. Yet, with its CLEANS of finer things,
he learned to love the symphony of color
when the sunset fires burned low in the west
with such tlnts as never an artists brush
had caught, the purple hue that
stole softly over montains and plains en- :
folded him in its hush of peace. The stars
that shone above him were not purer than
his life, nor colder; for no woman's touch
could send his pulses thrilling How could
it, after he had known Genevieve Kelsey?
1t had been fancy of his to pass the
Thanksgiving of this year at home among
the quiet Kentucky hills, and now, within a
few hours journey, he was detained in st.
Estavenne by missing a train. All! he little
dreamed what destiny meant when she sent
that train without him.
The city life surged about him with its
bitter-sweet memories and associations. His
thoughts strayed unaccountably backward
Some spring of memory was touched, and
long-silent melodies flowed forth.
His half-dreaming thoughts were suddenly
arrested by face, before which he paused in
sudden eagerness. 1t was a medallion, a
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 magnetism. He turned to the
catalogue, but the number was only entered
as "a Sketch" but he knew it was the face of
Genevieve 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 a
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, anything
of the old life, since she would now make
life bright for him. He had taken
if for granted, indeed he had vaguely
heard, that she had married Eveleth,
and further he never inquired. But
some intuitional hope, for whose exist
ence he could not account, hurried him out
into the chill gray of that November after
noon. The brief glow had already faded
into the dull twilight, and the gas was light
ed here and there as he hurried through the
crowded streets. A chill wind sprung up
from the east A city, like an individual
has her own MOODS ana lenses, ana IL one
fingers long within her gates one GENES to
individualize her. st. Estavenne had changed
to Mr.. Converse since he entered it that
morning and he journeyed on with but one
thought in his mind. Was he near Gene
We've Kelsey7 He felt that consciousness OF
presence which is to US all 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. "bui
love him."
..But, my darling, he is SO utterly unworthy
of you," he replied, thinking of her happines:
before he thought of his own. "OhI my
love- you will have hard life if it is once
linked with his. If he we're worthier of you
than /, I could give you up. If could
bear it all for you-your pain without mine
God knows 1 would. But it will come t.
you alone, love, when you are his wife, and
I can have no right to comfort you. Per
haps there will come time when you would
even rather have my tenderness than none
Genevieve looked at him almost uncom
prehendingly.
"Why, l sove him." was ali she said, ant
he saw her again as she sat there in the dee]
embrssure of the window seat-a petite
dainty woman, "made of spirit; and fire, ant
dew" with some subtle charm of her owl
that no words could catch. Her beauty de
pended much upon expressions glaring, fad
ing. luminous, evanescent-as cloud pictures
vet marvelously lovely with vivid light
cleaning in the the Thoughtful eyes and lip