Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1879-11-29

She suggested that the defect would be unno-
tceable to ordinary perceptions.
IF You pain down TO ordinary perceptions, you
must always be detective
land the coloring?" said Miss yane, with a
Respondent sigh.
you painted these lights In cloudy morning,
and these with clear sky
Not that am conscious of-and 1 tried to
make the colOrs match"
But they would not be matched. You are not
making bonnetS when you sit down in the sacred
name of Art to depict Nature"
Miss Vane WINGED. She could not defend her
self. She saw her weakness. Yet she was con-
sciOus of having done good work. aud she felt
that the critic had njuStly passed all that over
In his eagerness to find fault. He might be the
and uncharitable and she would ask his opinion
never again. These were the thoughts of the
moment. that made her silent and detected. The
mason continued
..These errors arise from your want of educa-
ton from your YOUTH" (she remembered his
speaking of her as of child,) perhaps from
your happiness"
..My happiness! What has that to do with
it?"
"Much. Sorrow makes poets, and only poets
can paint pictures, except for ordinary percep-
TONS All these defects OF color and drawing
arise from your starting without an idea You
walk into this aisle, and you say: oh, how
pretty! This will make nice picture And,
after long time you produce thing that has
not the claim to respect that pilot ograph has
that, at least, tells the truth. Now, I'll tell you
how a poet WDnd paint NTH TINS ae would
his tempered mind would steal the memory of a
cathedal aisle, gray and cold, and sad in tone;
door tells OF dying day, and helghtens the
pathos of the place. Here he conceiveS grand
picture, and he makes this cathedral the model
by which to work out his conception; but he
fixes the point of view whence his idea may be
realized, and he is careful that the light shall be
in harmony with his subject. A column will
not get In the way Of this man, and he viii be
Miss Vane was silent for a time, feeling her
self lower than the dflettanti dabbler She had
sometimes feared herself to be-and without
that hopeful CLEAN which generally accOmpa-
pan1eS self-depreciatfon.
sThen what had better do with the plcture?"
she asked.
'Cut it up"
AZ might as well give 1t to Mrs. Champ"
Much as | respect and like the estimable
Martha, l could not counsel you to be so gener-
dozen pieces OF excellent work here-most ex-
cellent. Keep them as studies. Only give Mar
tina the colored portion that you tried to match
Here Is piece OF mastery execution, and this
is good, indeed!"
lie looked intently upon the work as he spoke.
Miss Vane could not speak, being quite over
come with the delight the criticism afforded
her. Noticing her silence the mason said, his
eyes still upon the painting
81 have discouraged YOU"
No, no; oh dear no! am very grateful for
your discriminating remarks; they are all true,
quite true"
Especially the favorable ones. hey?" he asked,
VIII Il ulleU laugh.
Miss Vane thought she had never heard such
gentle and kind voice as this mans, and his
smile was as tender as Woman's
mo, | think | like your censure as well as
your praise. 1t Is that which makes the praise
valuable 1t will please me to cut this picture
up as you suggest"
"And so your work here ends"
There was the slightest tone of regret in his
voice, she thought.
'fYou think am too happy to feel the poetry
of sadness-you think am child"
Nn11a chill md harr iIyyr Of
cious one Your field of poetry lies outside
these walls. The bright phases of nature you
could depict and impress them with all the joy
so, looking at your face. Your eyes say that 1
am not old to have much experience Of sadness.
am OLD enough-my life has been one OF dis
"And must one experience diSappointments
to know what sadness is?" she asked, looking
at him with swimming eyes OF sympathiAing
sorrow.
He penetrated her soul with his deep-seeing
eyes, searching there for the motive of her
present grief, Just as he had looked into her
work for the feeling of the artist.
'sAll beautiful and good natures are capable
OF true sympathy with the sorrowful; but the
sentiment Is transient Only our own sadness
been sufficfent to see the grave and gay ex.
preSsiOns following each other in your face like
the lights and shades upon an April hill. Deeper
feelings will come soon enough. And now to
my work.
He left her standing still and silent by her
easel, and began to chip the stones again.
He does not know me. he does not know how
deeply feel" she thought, as she slowly re-
packed the colorS she was to use there no more;
and she believed it was sympathy with his mis-
fortunes that alone made her wretched, but one
half of her detection arose from regret upon her
own account
There was nothing now for her to do but to
pack up and go, and slowly and reluctantly she
finished her arrangements. When all was done,
even to the buttoning OF her gloves, she stepped
up to the mason, intending to say something
about her gratitude for his valuable criticism.
and add something more about the possibility
OF meeting him on some future occasion; but
these society phrases went right out OF her mind,
and the society tone right out of her voice, as
felt that she might never see him again, and so
she said only:
Goodbye"
She held out her hand, and he took it without
hesitation in his dirty palm, and met her sad
eyes with his, so earnestly and grave.
~, goodbye, you beautiful child" he said.
would not have felt outraged, so high above her,
so grand and pure, did he look as he spoke.
She walked away without another word. But
his tools were silent; she felt he was following
turn round and see him once more.
"What, going already, Miss Vane?' asked Mrs.
Champ, who was seated outside the cathedral
door in the agreeable shade, knitting.
yes shall walk home, and will send for
my things"
81 am afeared that young fellows been annoy
lAS you, uloS, SOu lOOh Qulle uOWll-uedfGcu
ike
'No, he has not annoyed me in the least, and
my picture is finished. Good morning."
On her way home the reflection that She
should see this strange man no more was upper
most In her thought, and all time looked blank
and miserable before her. What should she do
tomorrow. and the next day, and the next?
How destitute OF hope was her life. oh, now
indeed she could paint her picture, and put into
1t all that pathOS he spoke Of, and prove to him
how deep her feelings were. Poor little goose,
she had imagined all that feeling due to her
sympathy with the mason's unknown disap-
poiItments
Nevertheless his influence upon her was last
ing and it seemed as though he had created in
her that deeper sentiment which he prognosti-
Gated. She began to think, and perceDtibly al
tered She did not grow particularly wise In
a fortnight; but the desire to be true in every
thing that she did was constantly hers. With
this idea OF truth she associated him, the mason,
the man whose name even was unknown to her.
And so he dwelt continually in her mind. She
localized him, making him her standard Of eX-
celence, and controlling her actiOnSin the direc-
ton She thought he would counsel. She did not
get through much work, but what She effected
was consc1ent1ously done. She wished to be a
child no more, and behave ch1ldishly no longer.
A fayorite brush was missing from her box, and
probably 1t had been left in the cathedral but she
would not go there to find It, lest he should sus-
pect the dearer object OF her search, and laugh
at her weakness Still, she hoped he would find
1t, and bring If to her. He did find it, but Mrs.