Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1881-04-23
CHATTER v.-rHE END OF THE HONEYMOON.

| rived alone nj Romayne's house. Hay-
ing been included, as matter Of course.
in the invitation to see the pictures
Father Benwell had made an excuse, and
had asked leave to defer the proposed
visit. From his point of view he had
nothing further to gain by being present
at second meeting between the two
men in the absence of Stella He had
it, on Romayne's own authority, that she
was in constant attendance on her
mother, and that her husband was alone.
Either Mrs. Eyrecourt will get better
or she, will die" Father Benwell rea-
soned. "I shall make constant in
quiries after her health, and in either
case shall know when Mrs. Romayne
returns to Ten Acres Lodge. After that
domestic event the next time Mr.. Win
terheld visits Mr.. Romayne I shall go
and see the pictures"
It is one of the defects of super.
subtle intellect to trust too implicitly
to calculation, and to leave nothing to
chance. Once or twice already Father
Benwell had been lin the popular
phrlse) n littlo too clever--and chance
had thrown him out. AS events hap
pened chance was destined to throw him
out once more.
OF the most modest pretensions in ro.
gard to numbers and size the pictures
collected by the late Lady Derrick werc
mastery works of modern art With
few exceptions they had been produced
by the matchless English landscape
painters of half century since. There
was no formal gallery here The pic,
lures were 80 few that they could he
hung in excellent lights in the different
hving-rooms Of the villa. Turner, Con
stable, Collins, Dandy, Calicott, Linnell
the master of Beaupark house passed
from ono to the other with the enjoy
ment of a man who thoroughly appre.
|
that the world has yet seen.
"You had better not have asked me
here" he said to Romsyne, in his quaint.
ly good-humored way. ~ can't part
with those pictures when say goodbye
to-day. You will find me calling hero
again AMI again, till you are perfectly
sick of me. Look at this sea piece
Who thinks Of the brushes and palette
of that painter? There, truth to nature
and poetical feeling go hand in hand
together. 1t is absolutely lovely
could kiss that picture"
They were in Romayne's study when
this odd outburst of enthusiasm escaped
Winterfeld. He happened to look
toward the writing table next. Some
pages of manuscript, blotted and inter.
lined with corrections, at once attracted
his attention.
"Is that the forthcoming history
he asked. "You are not one of the
authors who perform the process Of
correction mentally-you revise and i'm
prove with the pen in your hand"
Romayne looked at him in surprise.
"I suspect, Mr.. Winterfeld, you have
used your pen for other purposes than
writing letters"
"No, indeed; you pay me an un'
deserved compliment. When you come
to see me in Devonshire I can show
you some manuscripts and corrected
proofs, left by our great writers, col.
lected by my father. My knowledge Of
the secrets Of the craft has been gained
by examining these literary treasures.
If the public only knew that every
writer worthy of the name is the severest
critic of his own book before it even
| gets into the hands OF the reviewers,
how surprised they would bel The
man who has worked in the full fervor
of composition yesterday, is the SAINT
man who sits in severe and merciless
judgment to-day on what he has himself
produced. What fascination there
must be in the art which exacts and
receives such double labor as this |"
Romayne thought-not unkindly-oi
his wife. Stella had once asked him
how long time he was usually occupied
in writing one page. The reply had
filed her with pity and wonder.
"Why do you take all that trouble"
she had gently demonstrated "I,
would be just the same to the people,
darling, if you did it in half the time"
By way of changing the topic Romayne
led his visitor into another room.
"I have a picture here" he said.
(Which belongs to new school oi
painting. You have been talking OF
hard work in one art; there it is in an
other"
eyes" said Winterfeld; "there it is
the misdirected hard work which has
been guided by no critical faculty, and
which doesn't know where to stop. I try
to admire it; and end in pitying the
poor artist. Look ut that leafess felled
tree, in the middle distance. Every
| little tWip. on the smallest branch, is |