Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1882-10-03

Helen, when came to spend my va
cation here at Little Rock, SO as to be
near you, said to myself, Now you can
ask the woman you love to be your wife,
and know that you have home to offer
her. For yOursake wish were rich,
but am still young, and with the good
prospects have, do not see why shall
not be able before many years to give
my wife all she can wish"
ut is not that, Edwin, 1 should not
love you one bit more ii you were a mil
lionaire," interrupted Helen, glancing
reproachfully at him.
"Helen, my holiday is over to mor-
row and must have my answer to-
night" The words came somewhat
sternly from between Edwin Benefits
lips. 7..
Mechanically with the end of her par
asol Helen Armstrong traced on the
glittering sand, Fame versus Love-
Then as she became aware of what she
had done, she sought to efface them.
Too late Edwin Bennett's hand had
stayed hers, as pointing to the letters,
he said, hoarsely:
For second che hesitated, then slowly
came the answer:
II accepted Mr.. Hovey's offer this
morning. am to sail in a week"
| Spurning her hand from him, Edwin
Bennett cried out passionately:
"God forgive you! I cannot!" Then
without another word he turned and left
her.
| A faint cry of Edwin" I" escaped her
lips. as her arms were held out implOr-
ingly toward him. Then they fell to her
side, and she too turned and went slow
ly across the sands in the opposite direc.
ton. If he had only looked back and
seen those outstretched arms, how diff.
ferent their life might have been; but
no, he plodded angrily along the shore,
glancing neither to the right nor the
left. Little by little the waves crept up
and Love was drowned, while Fame
sands.
Ten years have come and gone since
Helen Armstrong aud Edwin Bennett
parted on the shore, and during that
time they have never met. Helen had
won that which she had striven for
| She had hecome an artist of remown.
Even royalty had been pleased to com.
pliment her.
For the last month one of Helen Arm
strong's paintings had been on exhibi-
ton at the Academy of Design, and
crowds had been drawn thither to see the
great work of the celebrated artist. The
subject was simple, nothing new, and
yet visitors returned again and again to
gaze at it.
1t was the last day of its exhibition,
when lady and gentleman, the gentle
man leading little girl of perhaps three
years by the hand, passed into the room
where the painting hung.
"Oh, isn't it too bad there is such
crowd? I want to see itu' exclaimed
the lady, to which the gentleman re-
piled:
1--WE will look at the other pictures
first and then come back again perhaps
there will not be such a crowd then"
An hour or so later the gentleman and
lady returned then the room was al
most deserted, except few stragglers
here and there. It was just about time
to close the gallery.
For few moments they stood in sill
ence before the painting; then q 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 pic
ture for few moments, the little one
asked:
"Is zay mad. papa?"
II am afraid one was, pet" came the
low answer, as Edwin Bennett kissed
the fair cheek of his little girl. Then his
gaze returned to the painting.
A stretch of yellow sands, dotted here
and there by huge boulders and piles of
snowy pebbles, against which the over
hanging cliffs look almost bleak. Gen
tie little baby waves ripping in toward
the shore, while majestic, purple-hued,
silver edged clouds seemed floating en-
masse toward the golden crimson barred
| sun that flooded the sky and water with
its warm light.
In the centre of the picture, where the
beach formed curve resembling horse
shoe, was an old boat turned bottom up
ward some few feet off the figure of
young man apparently walking hurried.
ly away 4; although the face was not visi-
BILE, the gazer felt that the man suffer.
ed; that the glorious sunset was this
day as naught to him. Perhaps it was
in the tightly clasped hand, the veins of
| which stood out like great cords; or,
| maybe the mans total disregard of his
surroundings.
To the right of the picture the figure
| of q young girl trailing parasol ia the
61Au1 d6 oAO 0PRC0AOu W WOVC61OWAy Al
the opposite direction from her compan-
ion. Only little bit of delicately
shaped ear and mass of glossy braids
| showed from beneath the shade hat, but
one could readily believe that the pretty
girlish figure belonged to an equally at
| tractive face.
About half way between them, traced
upon the sand, were the words, Fame
| versus Love-"
IT'S it not lovely, Edwin ?" and Mrs.
Bennett laid her hand upon her hus-
bands arm as she added:
"Yet how sad it somehow seems. I
can't help feeling sorry for them. 1
wish could see their faces. I feel as
If I wanted to turn them around"
| Clasping the little hand that rested so
confidingly upon his arm, Edwin Ben
nett inwardly thanked God for the gift
of his fair young wife, as he said:
"Come, dear, they are commencing to
close up Bahy's tired, too"
"Ess, mas tired. Baby wants to tiss
mama," lisped the child, holding out
her tiny arms.
Husband and wife failed to notice q
lady who stood near by, gazing at an
mother stopped down to receive her ba-
by's kisses, which the little one lavished
on her cheeks, lips and brow, deep,
yearning look gathered in the strange
lady's eyes and she turned hastily
away.
| "Oh, Edwin !" exclaimed the wife. as
they passed the silent figure in black,
wouldn't it be nice if baby should grow
up to be a great artist like Miss Arm.
strong?"
| "God forbid, Annie," came the ear
nest reply, followed by, "let her grow
up to be true, loving woman, that is
all I ask" The lady's hand tightened
its hold upon the back Of the settee as
the words reached her ears, but she did
not move until they were out of sight:
Then lifting her veil she went and stood
hAforo the nainfinn that had rr0n auch