The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1883-07-21
CATsItADINE'S Love.


CARKADINEs LOVE.
Carfaulne sat alone at hlS easel paint
ing; and as he painted he tho,Ight
right years before, when lie was q Door
struggling boy, just entering on thai
race which must be run by every aspir
ant to art and its honors, thore happened
TO him something which neither time
nor toll had ever been able to effact
from his memory. As he was passing
along the streets a wreath OF fragrant
roses suddenly fell OH his head, and look.
ing up III wonder he beheld, reaching
out from the embroidered diaperieS OF
an overhanging window, child, with
talry-lke proportions, with great dark
eyes and long, curling black locks. who
stood smiling and throwing him kisses
from her curved lips, colored like 81
pomegranate. When she still pazed q
nurse had come forward and drawn the
enid away; the curtains were closed and
he saw the little creature no more.
such was the vision that the artist had
carried SO long in his memory: in his
memory only, for he had no second
glimpse of the child. That very day an
accident occurred which kept him q
prisoner in his room for several weeks
and when next he went out the house
was empty. and placard with greatflar-
ing letters announcing it for sale stared
MN III the face, from the same window
III which the little, white-robed elf had
stood waving her hand and smiling to
nm. In course of time other faces an
peared there, but they we're strange
races, and among them was never tHe
one for which he looked.
NOW, as Carradne sat painting alone
he thought of all this: of the strupolp
tnat had ended at length in success of
ts 's nSEa bStEaatfaaf fafrianidf" tnid With thSG' Ger fragrant
rose crown, which had seemed almost
like prophecy. That rose wreath, dry
and wlthered now, was all that was left
to him of the fair vision: but when that
morning in turning over an old port
folio, he had come upon it by chance it
spoke to him of that by-gone day just as
eloquently as when its blossoms were
fresh and full.
Eight years ago." he said, thought
fully, letting the shriveled circles slip
through his fingers slowly. "She must
be IL now-if she lives. If2 No, 1
do not doubt her living presence some
what she is like at 1872"
With that lie placed the wreath beside
his easel and began to paint. The face,
as 1t grew on his canvas, presented Il
young girl in the dewy morning blush
oi iirst youth, with shadows III the great
dark eyes and Il half-Smile about the
bright curled lips, like an embodied
summer sun-ShOWer. 1t was thus that
the artist pictured his idea of the child
woman, whose infantie look and smile
for eight long years had been his own
dream Of love.
Carradine hat not had an easy life.
An orphan from his earliest years, poor
and unfriended, he had studied hard for
the means to crafty that inherent idola-
try for art which was always clamoring
to find expression in form and coloring.
lie had fought and he had won; but
now, at 26, lie stood in the place which
he had gained for himself almost as
much alone at the very heart as he had
been eight years before, when the child s
gift came to him as a prophecy.
1t was not that he was friendless
There were men who liked and sought
him, women who would gladly have
taught him to forget his loneliness in
their affection. But though his nature
responded rapidly to any kindness, there
was one chord, deeper than all, that re-
manned untouched, and from the sweet
est glances his thoughts went back tc
the unknown child that had smiled
down to him so long ago.
The ideal head became his great source
OF enjoyment, and dreamy softness
shaded his dark-grey eyes, as line by
line and tint by tint took him back into
the past, which all lifeless as it was
seemed to him, in those moments, more
real than the busy present. Yet now, il
reviewing that one bright vision of his
memory, it was not so much the lovely
child that he saw in fancy as the beau
tiful girl whose face, with fuller deptl
and sweetness, looked out at him from
his own canvas.
Instinctively, he hardly knew why
he disliked to work on this picture il
any other presence, and he devoted t,
it only his hours of solitude. So i
happened that it was nearly finished
when by some chance a friend dis
covered him bending over it, too alb
sorbed to hear any approach. AS TIL
door opened Carradine rose hastily
turning his easel to the wall, so as t.
conceal the face upon it. This littl
stratagem, however, was destined to b
Of no avail. Having been marked b.
the intruder, one of those cordial, well
meaning people, good-natured to de
gree, but with little delicacy of precer
tion-the action at once aroused hi
curiosity.
-" Aha, master painter" he said, wit
a laugh, "let us sec what 1T is that yo
work at by yourself till it steals ava
your eyes and ears. Only one peepl"
With that, he laid his hand on th
frame, and receiving no forbidding wor
from Carradine, turned it round. Th
next moment he was loud in praise.
I" But who Is 1t, Carradinep If it
q portrait, tell me whore to find til