Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1884-09-18
LOVE OR ART.

not deem it q sacrifice"
There YOU are mistaken. L might
yield TO your wish because loved you.
but il would always be with Il sense of
injustice. Music has always been the
passion of my lie. | have loved it,
and worked for il Nil the while, and
now that there has come 10 me the
thing have dreamed of ever since my
chlldhood-now that | have chance
10 60 10 the Leipsic Conservatory-you
want me to give it up. No, Harry. if
YOU will not take me with all my aims
and ambitions, we had better part"
IL hate woman with purpose"
he said, sharply.
'.And l haze man without one.
Harry Dcrwcnt WINGED, and turned
away.
Then there is nothing for us but to
say goodbye! Evelyn, l wish you well,
but some day You will be sorry"
mo; | shall never regret what l am
doing now. Goodbye Harry! l am
going away, but do love YOU. / wish
You would never forget that
For u moment her two slender, sup
pie white hands rested on his, her soft,
grey eyes, yelled with gathering tears,
looked up into his, and her sweet,
tremulous lips were near his own.
"Darling!' he cried, appealingly.
But she had fluttcred away from him
like 4 bird OH the wing, and he saw her
no more.
"A man without purpose" he re-
pcated, as he sat that night over the
dying embers of his fire. ''She told
the truth. But if she had promised TO
Dc my wife l could havo worked for
her. Well, she has chosen her way,
and must 60 mine. | will not drift
along as l have been doing. If she
has career. it shall not surpass mine.
1 will make her regret some day that
she did not marry metz
Three years passed, and Harry Der
went had won for himself such recogni-
lion rs is seldom accorded young
lawyer.
Success, moreover. had inspired him
with the ambition which had once
seemed lacking in his nature.
Il WONDER" he unused one night,
as he sat in large concert-room, wait
ing for the appointed hour of commend
ing-"I wonder if l wasn't little
hard upon Evelyn? / used to DO an
idle sort of n fellow, and perhaps n
woman with her talents and ambition
might have found it hard 10 be happy
with me.
His thoughts ran on in this channel,
but were interrupted by n burst of
music from the orchestra.
The brilliant overture was followed
by some vocal music-a simple, we'll
worn song, that filled Mr.. Derwent's
heart with sad and tender longing.
As the last notes of the song died
away, Harry sat wrapt in dream. in
which he seemed TO hear Evelyn's
gentle voice, whispering to him those
self-same words.
81 was wrong" he said TO himself.
II see it now. 1t was selfish of me to
ask so much of her"
A soft, liquid run over the keys of
the piano made him look up.
He had dropped into the concert by
chance, and he had paid no attention
10 the programme.
Now, as he raised his eyes, he saw
the graceful figure. the pure, delicate
profile. of Evelyn Blount.
She was seated ut the piano, playing
Will tuC VI uliOH
one of Chopin's exquisite compositions.
Her execution was marvellous; her
touch the soul of poetry.
The hall resounded again and again
with applause rs she played, in re-
Spouse TO an enthusiastic encore.
''My darling!-my darlingr' Harry
murmurcd with swelling heart. IF
l could have buried you genius, what
q wretch / should have been to do itl'
at is her first public appearance"
someone whispered near him. Every
one is wild about her. They are going
to give her q public reception, after the
concert, at her hotel.
..How she must despise mel" Der
went cried, rs he turned his steps to-
wards the Imperial, hoping, yet fear
ing, to meet the woman whose staunch
fidelity to her genius filled him now
with the most reverent love and adj
miration. 'She is lost to me for everw
The reception was perfect crush.
Eyelyn's rooms ut the Imperial Hotel
were beautiful, filed with rare bric-a-
brac and lovely flowers, all tributes TO
the brilliant pupil of the great master
of music.
Derwent could not get near her, but
standing afar of, he watched her with
longing eyes.
She was talking to n distinguished
looking German, when suddenly she
uttered sharp cry.
.'Take care!" she exclaimed.
The warning came too late.
Some one had pushed against slight
pedestal and thrown over q beautiful
bust of Italian marble.
"Oh, my Beethoven" she cried, in
dismay, springing forward to catch 1t.
In that she failed, for the weighty
marble was too heavy for her 1t only
struck her with stunning force, and
then crashed 10 the floor In thousand
fragments,
With low moan, she sank down
insensible, and in the dense throug that
crowded her apartments. Derwent
could neither get 10 her nor could he
learn how badly she was hurt
Afterward, when he heard that she
had only sprained her wrist, he could
not still his Joy, but presented himself
Mt the hotel and begged for admittanoo.
Not for three weeks would she con-
cent to see him, and when he came at
last into her presence, he found her so
white and altered that he felt some