Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1880-01-07

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81 viii come. Good evening SIR
She raised her bundle Of wood, and went
away into the deepening shadows, beneath
the archway of the dark chestnut trees
Maurice went home dreaming of the fair
haired child. He had seen her often, and
had always looked at her, but with the eyes
Of an artist Now it seemed to Inn that
he looked at her with the eyes of jealous
lover That night and the next day
seemed Interminsble to him; and long be-
fore the appointed hour he was in the
glade.
lie worked alone, and when the girl ar
rived, little late-already playing the CO.
quette-shs was quite surprised.
at is really myself" said she. ''Will
you give it to me?'
''No. Twill make you little one fOryour-
self:r
'tAnd that one, what will You do with
it?
'.It will go 10 Paris, it will be put in
large frame, it will be hung in beautiful
gallery, and every one will come and look
at it."
..Ah! yes, know, in the exhibition
Have you heard OF the exhibition
There are gentlemen painters here who
work for the exhibition, as they say, but
they never took my portrait"
Daylight was fading gently; Maurice
found as on the preceding evening, the ex-
quisite soft tints which had so charmed him
and his work advanced a hundred cubits
toward posterity.
He saw her again several times beneath
the cbeckerdaylight of his improvised stu
die, and he took pleasure in making this
work his best one. Already celebrated, he
/ had no need to make himself name, and
yet he was sure that this picture would
put the seal to his renoun.
| BY the time he was quite satisfied with
/ it, winter had come, and Maurice loved his
little model lie loved her too much TO
/ tell her SO, too much to sully this field
! flower of whom he could not make his wife,
but enough to suffer at the thought Of leav-
/ ing her. She had noEe OF those qualities
which secure the happiness OF life;
neither depth of feeling nor the devotion
which causes US to forget everything, nor
the passion which is an excuse for every
thing she was pretty field flower, 4 little
/ vain, little coquettish, with no great
faults, nor vet great virtues. Maurice
/ knew that size was not for him. and vet lie
loved the graceful lines Of her figure, as
yet scarcely developed, and with her home
spun gown chaslely EMBODIED without dis
guising. He loved the deep eyes, the
laughing mouth, the fair hair that was al
ways in disorder, the little handkerchief
tied across her breast-he loved il ali, snd
/ it was with reluctance tha; he went away
We always go away with reluctance when
we have nothing TO hope for on our return.
Il is 50 hard to leave behind bit Of ones
life, Of which nothing is to remaiz.
lie carried away his picture, however,
and II was before it that lie passed his hap
piest hours that winter, always perfecting
work which was already perfect. The
picture was admired; the critics who were
unanimous in their enthusiasm, declared
that such faces could rot exist, except in
the brain of poet, or in the Imagination
OF a painter Maurice listened smiling,
and kept to himself the secret of that sweet
face that had inspired him. He received
brilliant offers for his picture; never had so
high price been offered for any of his
works; but he refused, and he refused also
to allow ii to be copied. Since he was
never to possess anything of his model but
Der likeness, he intended that that should
he his alone.
Autumn was drawing near when he re-
turned TO the village; twice had the fires Of
St. John seen the whirls Of the merry
ance since be hapainted the portrai,
and when he thought Of the young girl, It
was with smile that was somewhat sad,
as he acked himself on which OF the village
rustics she he'd fixed her choice.
His first pilgrimage on arriving was to
the forest Of chestnut trees; at the fall Of
day-night comes quickly at the beginning
of October-he wandered down the long
path; but it was no longer dark; it was
lraversed by an ambor sunbeam, which
seemed to haye fastened itself on every one
of the leaves which quivered on the
branches or cracked beneath his feet.
The odor of the dead leaves brought to
hin whole world of regrets, of Temen-
branccs OF bitterness, stirring up within him
an unspeakable sadness, and mere COM
ple;e DISCUS; with everything that he had
sought up to that time. When be reached
the glade nc sal down on the spot where
eighteen months before he had made the
sketch which had since crowned his renown.
! The cold stone seemed 10 laugh at him
ironically for all that he had suffered
4 peasant girl-a coquettc matter Of
great Consequence surely. She would have
loved me if / had chosen. Many others
have loved painters, and have followed
them TO Paris, and then have disappeared
in the scum of the great city without
loading with chains the one who had ini-
tiated them into the mysteries of art and
intellectual life. He is a fool who sacri-
fees to chimeras the real goods of this
world: the love Of beautiful girl, the
glory which talent gives, the fortune which
success brings.
While he was thus denying the goods OF
his youth, he saw coming toward him, IN
the well-known path, the young girl OF
other days, who had grown up, who had
become a woman, in one word. She was
not alone; rustic was walking beside her
holding her by thelitte finger; fine fellow,
for that matter, strong and well made and
richly dressed for peasant. lie bent to-
- 4,s,7e ,v-frl