San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1883-10-04

the time, but I shall not see anything
half 80 dear as you. When come
back shall ask you something; you
won give the answer l want to any
else will you, Rose?"
Again he caught the shy glance
rom the blue eyes, and heard the
miscellaneous IL shall not answer any
question till it is asked, Lion"
Then the vineyard melted away,
and in it's place, appeared a room in
a picturesque Swiss Village. On the
floor lay letter in a black-edged en-
velope, telling of the death of Roses
grandfather, her only relative; around
the room were the signs of hasty
packing, and by the window, impa-
tiently waiting for the carriage which
was to convey him the first step to-
ward home and Rose, stood himself.
Again the scene changed, and the
same self, weary and travel-soiled,
opened the gate and buried up the
grassy path to his fathers house. AT
ter the greeting with father and
mother, he asked, "Where is Rose,
since her grandfather's death?" and
heard with shock that "she had
gone to the CITY," Then In answer
to his looks of dismay came questions
and expressions of surprise, and re-
marks that they "thought it was only
q childish fondness he had felt for
Rose, and that, doubtless, they can
find her, though indeed they do not
know where she is staying nor how
she is supporting herself"
But d year has passed, and every
way which love could devise and
wealth execute, has been tried in
vain. But no; he had just thought
of one more chance. Selling palette
and brush he began to paint; hope
rekindled in his eyes as the canvas
blossomed under his skillful fingers.
All day he worked, and the first light
found him at his easel in the morn
ing. At last the picture was done.
In the center of the canvas was
large, half-opened white rose, and,
just emerging from the flower, was
fair, girlish figure, robed in white as
spotless as the petals, with blue eyes
glancing coyly through veil of gold
en- curls. Up one side clambered
grapevine, with which was mingled
a elm bling rose, on one blossom of
which stood the same girl reaching
for cluster of grapes that hung just
above her head; up the other side a
sweet briar struggled through thistles
and brambles, and out of each bios
som looked the same sweet face, but
wan, and pinched, and frightened by
it's rude and ugly neighbors, until, as
it neared the top, thorns and thistles
were broken, and broad sunbeam
slanted on ahappy, serene face in the
highest flower, while just above it,
partly hidden in spray Of forget-me-
nots, was the figure of lion; the
vires on each side were connected at !
top and bottom by graceful branches
of roses, from each blossom of which
peered the same face with it's blue
eyes and golden curls.
"There," said the artist, as he sur
veyed the finished picture, "she will
understand that if she sees it. l have
told her too many stories in this way
to have any fear for that. God grant
that may find my pure sweet briar
before the thorns and thistles of pow
erty end loneliness have quite choked
her,"
81 declare, Lionel, you are the
drollest fellow! The idea of spelling
such an exquisite picture as that, by
such an incongruity as lion crouch
ing on aerial nothingness."
The speaker had come quietly in
and stood looking over the artists
shoulder. Evidently his presence
was nothing unusual, for Lionel
showed neither surprise nor annoy
ance at his unceremonious entrance
and frank criticism.
"But 1 say, my boy" he went on,
'what a rare, sweet face you have
given your roSe-sprite. Paint out
that ugly beast and put a butterfly or
another rose in its place, and it will
be the finest work you have ever
done. What are you going to do with
it, anyhow"
"Take it to Jacks photograph gal
Il ry, and have dozen or so copies
made, put one in a show window on
each of the principal streets of this
city, hire boy for each one to watch |
all passers-by for the original of that !
face, commission you to help in the |