Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-03-14

vulsive and nervous movement as he ciutched
| his brushes and mixed his eolors upon the
palette.
He seemed like man possessed with o
| demon.
A young girl, seated at window at the OPP
posite end of the studio, looked up every
| now and then from her work, and fixed her
| dark, watchful eyes upon the artist.
Each time she did so, her gaze fingered
longer upon his countenance, till at last she
dropped her hands-her work lay neglected
in her lap, and her eyes remained fixed upon
| the toiler
This girl was not beautiful. yet there was
something in her face which, when once
seen, remains forever craven upon the men,
ory of the beholder.
She was very pale-so pale that. in the
| dim light Of the October afternoon, her face
seemed colorless as that of q marble statue.
Her eyes were black-of that profound
I black which has light in its depths-eyes
which had something strange in their as
pect, and which reminded those who looked
into them of an open grave-a tathomless
| abyss.
| These darl; eyes, looking out of colorless
| face, had something mysterious IN their
gaze, and in the days of witchcraft would
have struck terror to the hearts of the igno-
rant.
| The artist did not see the earnest gaze
| fixed upon him. He never raised his eyes
from the miniature. Now and then he
sighed heavily as he paused for momeni
from his labor. He seemed wrapt in some
mournful dream, and utterly unconscious of
all that was passing around him.
At last the young girl addressed him.
| ~ -, su-l ID
so hard?'
| He laughed bitterly, but did not raise his
head
Because love my art" he answered,
''and love little else
SIS that so, Clarence" said the girl with
an earnestness which was not unmixed with
scorn. SIS that so?" she repeated, pointing
to q pile of unfinished paintings leaning
against the wall of the studio. eff it is your
art which you love, why are your great pic
lures all cast aside, neglected, forgotten, for
the portrait of u woman Of fashion-for it Is
o portrait which you have there, is it not?'
| A dark and angry expression obscured the
| face of the artist as he answered this cues
| ton.
at is" he said, still bending over the
easel, and never once looking at his gues-
toner
s'The portrait of Miss Ovington?"
| ''The portrait of Miss Maud Ovington, y
answered the artist. in a tone Of defiance
| The girl laughed-a harsh and hooking
laugh, which had nothing womanly in its
| tone.
| at will be charming ornament for the
hdys boudoir," she said; ''and she will,
doubtless, value it as much as"
She paused, looking with a malicious, an
almost demonac smile at the artist, who had
now raised his head from the easel.
| The eyes OF the two met.
"As much as what?" he asked.
Gas much as she values the heart Of the
artist when it is cast beneath her feet Nay
more, for when she is tired of the picture
she will only throw it ABIDE, or give it to hel
waiting maid. She will not trample upon
it; she has trampled upon the artists heart.
| The young man rose from his seat with an
exclamation of rage, then, restraining him.
self by powerful effort, he sank again into
his chair, and, clasping his hands before his
face, wept aloud.
ssClaricel cousin Clarice!'' he exclaimed
when the storm of grief had passed, 'you
are my fathers brothers only daughter-you
are my sole surviving female relative, and
have loved you as q sister. Why-why
then, do you torture me thus? You have
discovered my secret; you know that I have
loved that 1 do love Maud Ovington-deep
ly, devotedly-wildly foolishly, if You will
You know also that am loved in return"
81 do not know that" interposed the girl
coldly
"You do not know? Merciful Heaven! Il
there is truth in woman, l nm loved, and
loved rs truly as my devotion deserves
Why, then, do you torture me, Carice?'
because 1 despise you, cousin
s.Despise mel exclaimed the young man
"Yes, Clarence Suydam, l despise you
I have something of my mothers blood IL
my veins 1 came of a. prouder family thar
yours, as you we'll know, and despise the
man who loves as weakly as you do, this
blue-eyed coquette!'
"Coquette, Clarice?'
''Aye! and so finished a coquette that she
has power to blind and delude you, as SHE
would child, with the promise of play
thing. Love, cousin! Bah! Maud Owing
Power. pomp, wealth, admiration-these are
the things that she loves, but not you, Clar
ence Suydam!'
sit is false Claricew exclaimed the artist
severe YOU man, would wiring the lie from
your throat!
"You think that she will marry your
said Clarice, with mocking smile-'-tha
she will descend from her throne-that sht
will abandon her place as the lovely queer
of fashion, TO become the wife of struggling
artist"
Il do!'' cried Clarence Suydam. True.
am poor, unknown, unnoticed; but what O.
that? Blest by her love. l shall have power
to fight lites mighty battle. For her sake
how gladly will labor. Trust me, cousin
the world shall hear of the husband of MauG
Ovington, and art and beauty shall so hanG
in hand. All, Clarice, it is you who know
not how to love-
The girl recoiled with brief shudder a!
| her cousin uttered these words.
You are doubtless right, she said, slovl,
and with strange emphasis. 1T is 1 whit
know not how to love.
"Ciarice," exclaimed the young man, aftel
n pause, give NE some proof of what vol
say-give me proof of the talsehood of her
love-"
The girl rose from her chair and walked :;
few PAGES toward n table on the other side O.
the room-;l table covered with books anG
papers.
'.Shall r. she said, pausing midway be
tween her chair and this table, and looking
earnestly at her cousin.
"Yes-yes!'
''Bat You will hate me ever afterward-a:
we hate those who destroy our brightest an(