Little Falls transcript. [volume] (Little Falls, Morrison County, Minn.) 1876-1894, 1884-02-29

II
lying on the white pillows, Old, wrinkled,
pallid but still gentle and still fair,
crowned with now-wllite hair. Her
eyes were half closed, her thin hand,
half olding 1nagno lila blossom, lay on
the coyerlid. BY the bed sat the daugh-
ter, with dry, despairing eyes fixed, not
on the mother, but on a square Of paint
er's canvas on which was touchingly
feeble attempt at q portrait Of the dying
lady. '5. u,
John Bent did not stop to decide de-
cision took hold Of the man and The
artist. He stepped quickly and softly
INTO the room; took with one hand the
brush falling from the relaxed hand OF
the discouraged girl, made 8 gesture OF
entreaty with the other, silently took
the place she left, and began to paint.
He worked till the patient walked from
the browse and must be tended; then,
without a glance, even at the girl he
left the room. ..s'.a
When he returned from long walk,
the thanks he dreaded waited him in a
little white note that lay on his door-sil1.
| He opened the little folded paper very
reluctantly, and read g e Y, ssS@@.
"For such deed cannot thank you. NV
thanks would constrain you to do more for me,
or to do less.
r. S%'.Most wonderingly and humbly,
| = - s'@ s-~' ~'' ADA STIILWEIL."
Now I do not know whether this note
pleases the reader; I happen to know
that did not satisfy the writer, but did
please John Bent, and he knocked soft
" at the closed door next day and held
a very business like conference with
the sad girl about the best hours for fl-
tr1re work on the picture
The picture was painted. Day after
day, i'll the Sitting and fetid air, sat the
| artist doing the best work he ever did,
and the girl, sometimes weeping silent
~, watched her mother die. The last
day came, and there was only the pic
ture, and the mother was no more.
| The friends came from the North, as
friends always do when all is over, and
the coffin was carried out Of the house.
Then had to come the last words, which
John Bent dreaded. But she, know
ing it was for her to do it, came to him
| and tried to speak, to say, doubtless,
the words she had thought over and
chosen az the best. But she could not
| speak, and only wept, as people do who
cannot help it.
You should have seen the effort he
made to get through the scene quickly
and quietly.
'*Miss Stillwell, T know that you with
to thank me; know what you would
say. DO not try to speak"
Was not that all? No. She still
tried to say something that began with
How can L.,
''Pay me-? he said with frown.
Yes" and trembling pressure of
the hand, replied:
Here is my address and a-a-state-
| ment," he stammers.
ooh, thank you"
*sBut, he adds, "promise me not to
look at it for six months. Ican't bear to
have you think of such things now"
bering the words, and thinking them
She said yes, distractedly, half remem-
meant for delicacy.
Weeks after, when she framed the be-
loved likeness and realized it's power,
she wondered at the strange request.
and did not like to keep her promise,
but satisfied herself by laying by an ex-
travagant sum to pay the 'good, kind,
wonderful stranger, who had taken pity
on her.
When she came to open the sealed
letter, the stranger had asked more than
she had made ready to give, and offered
her all he had and was, to make the
balance true. Before she could decide
what to do, he came and taught her to
love the man as she already did the al
tist.-Woman's Journal.