Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1882-11-23

could not do thenp 1t would be such
a help to me. My little income would
do, with care. | think"
"And you would go?" As Edwin
Bennett asked this question IL look of
pain crossed his face.
"Why not?" came the reply, rs Helen
raised her eyes questionmgly to her
companion.
"You say you love me; ana yet you
would put the sea between us. Helen,
wait; / will work hard and earn money
enough to take us both abroad. Do
you think could deny you anything.
You should paint to your hearts con-
tent, from the old masters, or anything
else you pleased. So long rs you were
happy, | should be. Perhaps l might
turn painter, too, some day, with you
10 inspire me-" he added, smiling
slightly.
81 do not doubt your love for me,
Edwin; but l shall never marry. l
intend to devote my life to my art, AS
wife it would be impossible for me to
do so. / should be hindered and tram
meled in thousand ways. Believe me,
1 have thought very earnestly of ali
this, and L"
Helen, when came to spend my
vacation here at Little Rock. so as. to be
near you, 1 said to myself, Now you
ask the woman you love to be your
wife, and know that you have home to
offer her. For your sake / wish were
rich; but am still young; and with the
good prospects I have. do not see why
shall not be able before many ears
to give my wife all she can wish"
''It is not that, Edwin. / should not
love you one bit the more if you were a
millionaire, " interrupted Helen, glanc-
ing reproachfully at him.
''Helen, my holiday is over to morrow.
L must have my answer tonight. !"
The words came somewhat slowly from
between Edwin Benefits teeth,
Mechanically, with the end of her
parasol, Helen Armstrong traced on the
glittering yellow sands, "Fame versus
love-" Then, as she became aware of
what she had done, she sought to efface
them. Too late, Edwin Benefits hand
stayed hers, as pointing TO the letters,
he said hoarsely;
"ChooseI
For a second she hesitated, then
slowly came the answer:
81 accepted Mr.. Hovey's offer this
morning. l am to sail in week"
Spurning her hand from him, Edwin
Bennett, cried out passionately:
"God forgive you'll l cannot!' Then
without another word, he turned and
left her.
A faint cry of edwin" escaped her
lips, as her arms were held out Implor-
ingIy toward him. They then fell to
her side, and she, too, turned and went
slowly across the sands In the opposite
direction. If he had looked back and
seen those outstretched arms, how diff
ferent their lives would have been; but
no, he plodded angrily along the shore,
gIancing neither to the right nor the
left. Little by little the waves crept
up and Love was drowned, while Fame
stood out bold and clear upon the yellow
sand.
Ten years have come and gone since
Helen Armstrong and Edwin Bennett
parted on the shore, and during that
time they had never met. Helen had
won that which she had striven for.
She had become an artist of renown.
Even royalty had been pleased to COM
pliment her upon her art.
For the last month one of Helen
Armstrong; paintings had been on
exhibition at the Academy of Design,
and crowds had been drawn thither to
see this last work of the celebrated art
ist. The subject was simple, nothing
new, yet visitors returned again and
again to gaze at it.
1t was the last day of the exhibition,
when a lady and gentleman, the gentle
man leading a little girl of perhaps
three years by the hand, passed into
the room where the painting hung.
"Onl isn't it too bad there is such a
crowd; I wanted to see itP' exclaimed
the lady, to which the gentleman re-
piled:
''We will look at the other pictures
first and come back again; perhaps there
will not be such crowd then"
An hour or so later the gentleman and
lady returned; then the room was almost
deserted, except for a few stragglers
here and there. 1t was just about time
to close the gallery.
For few moments they stood in si-
lence, before the painting; then little
voice said:
''Baby wants to see, too, papa"
STOPPING down the gentleman raised
the pretty, daintily-dressed child in his
arms. After gravely regarding the
picture for a second; the little one asked.
''Is they mad, papa?
"I am afraid one was. pet" came the