Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-11-25

Z.
but painstaking artist" the review went on
to say, lit is somewhat surprising that the
only work he has left of any strength should
now be hung at the black and white exhibit
ton This sketch was made after his mad
ness was fairly upon him. This picture is in
grays oddly colored but in composition and
drawing quite full of certain weird power.
Not to be too funny at n dead mans expense.
this gives the poor fellow good send off at
any rate, as a friend of his remarked the
other day The picture. taken in connection
with the tragic death of the artist, has Gre
ated some little stir, more particularly as the
face in the sketch is strikingly like tAat of
young Boston beauty who is making her
debut in New York"
So poor Eaton was dead, and his picture
my picture-was a success, and-Anlta had
lived in Boston when she was ~
I hurried to the black and white that very
afternoon, and found quite a group collected
about my picture-Eaton's picture laughed
somewhat nervously as I stood before it.
Some one behind me spoke. 1t was Gleason.
"You needn't laugh, man. am glad to see
you back, by the way. There is some force
in that, and am glad for poor Toms sake
that he has left this sketch behind him. /
give you my word l had no idea he could do
as we'll He couldn't have while he was sane.
Every one is surprised. How are youa You
look pale. Have you come back to stay?'
ETC., etc. l fingered around for while and
found myself back again and again before
my picture (Eaton's picture), the picture
never to be claimed as mine now. 1t CHANGED
had told the story to no one There had
been no opportunity. Now, of course,
never must. As I stood looking at it, and
somewhat moved, perhaps, more by the re-
membrance of that night than by anything
actually before my eyes, two girls and an
elderly woman approached and stopped.
'It certainly is like her. mamma; wonder
if she will see it herself2 1t is quite time she
were here, bye-the-bye. She promised to meet
us at 3, you know"
Il don't think it does her justice" replied
che elder lady, looking through her glasses
critically. "She is a very beautiful creature,
and this face is less So" she added rather in
definitely, and with some hesitation in her
voice, so that fancied the picture grew on her
as she looked, and that she might yet reverse
her decision.
The other girl spoke now. She had dis
corning face, as I could see, and that long
upper lip that goes with speech faculty. cit
is like" she said, more like her soul than her
body. 1t is like the way she will look to her
guardian angel-or her lover" She turned
abruptly to greet some people who were
walking toward us.
was singularly excited. The maniac in
the boat had no such paralyzing power over
me as this potentiality in a soft gray gown,
with long gray glove outstretched. My
heart beat and the picture swan before my
eyes, for this might be, might it not, Anita
herself? heard voice exclaim, 'This is
the picturep A lady in black with the gray
girl began an apology: 1--WE are late. As
usual, Signor Boldini and some new music
All" interrupting herself, sit is ike-why,
yes, very. Don't you think so yourselfr'-
the name at last, surely-but no-'don't you
think so yourself, dearF'
eyes, do tell us what you think. Isn't she
weird? and can you look like that?' cried the
girls.
"Ah, the other me!n said a new voice
softly, voice with low thrill in it cit is
like what might have been. I'm sure. Some
one told me once when was child, l re-
member, that was like the moon, but hay
ing lived eight years since then in food of
sunshine"-and the gray hand touched the
black glove near hers, a graceful touch, I felt
Sure-"why, l am not so much like it now as
was"
in spite of the smile that you always will
and always won't smile outright. That is in
the face in the moon, too, you see. Did you
ever meet Mr.. Eaton!'
And do you think the girl very beauH-
full, and very like maniac's dream!" broke
In the shorter girl. ''Do tell us, Anita
So then it was Anita. turned, and as
walked away faced the blue-gray eyes, like
violets. and the hair like shaded moonbeams.
and the smile. Not the little 12-year-old
Anita this, but beautiful, sunny creature,
with the other Anita somewhat suggested.
and yet not there This one more of the
world, with savoir taire lying over the
moonshine l had meant. if it were she. to
speak to her at once and boldly As it was.
l simply gazed, and when her eyes met mine
fear it was l, not she, who blushed. But
she recognized me- My identity was all in
my face, l am sure. l saw puzzled look in
her eyes, and l seized my chance l bowed:
spoke:
Years ago you knew me, Miss Grayson,
when was boy in Boston, and when you
were like the MOON
l was introduced to the aunt in black Nv
father had been one of the old family friends
So in a few moments l was talking like an
old friend myself Mrs. Grayson touched OF
my recent loss, and then, as turned to leave
Said
81 would be glad to know your fathers
son. Can you dine with Us on Sunday next5
So the golden gates were opened for ne
and Sundays came and Sundays went and
was fathoms deep in love. I could not
paint, could not talk. l heard a good deal
oflnusic, and l suppose-alack and aIas-read
poetry. Fatal habit of lovers. And so at
last it came to the point when | must tell her.
Armed with a shield of violets met her in
her aunt's drawing-room one Sunday again
toward twilight. A day in April it was, and
spring was in the air.
The aunt was out on an errand of charity:
would soon be at home, Anita hoped. l said
nothing Talk tagged in consequence.
If those violets are for this house, why dc
you hold themFn asked Anita; why do Won
not give them to me.'
81 hold them because you will soon touch
them yourself" which was an asinine speech.
wasn't it,
THAT is stupid" she laughed frankly, "and
like other men, and not like you"
"But am like other men, answered. alb
ruptly, for L" Then paused, gave her
the violets, and conversation tagged. again.
"a iaJ