The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-11-28
A WEDDING GIFT.

x he said, in half-awed tone.
 Fleetwood nodded.
 "Yes, boy"
 T mus, at least try" said Walloston.
 1 know, said Fleetwood, gently.
 You see, it would just make me if Dr Arm and took my picture. It would g,ve me position. fortune, and Cornelie , added the young artist, his blonde cheek growing pale with emotion.
 It would, Ernest" responded the elder man.
 His loose, ebon hair shaded his olive cheek. Hehad sensitive mouth pltient eyes, He might have been fve.and- thirty.
 The fresh-cheeked boy was dear to him They had travelled to. ether abroad he had saved Ernest's life upon the Medi- terranean. Now that they had returned he came out to Daisypa:hs often to see his young friend. He was interested in the boys success, who had talent-he could paint; but he h Id never yet done anything excellently we'll.
 A fortnight before, Dr. Gustave Armand the virtu1 u1so and connoisseur of the city |, owner of magnificent mansion building at Eightelms, as the place was called, had called together company of fyoung Amer ican artists, and announced his want ot a landscape panel for niche of his superb drawing-room
 Fleetwood had not thought he should try. But when, in the silence of his studio, he reflected, he changed his mind To succeed in painting the panel for Doctor Armand would give the artist a quick popularity, wealth, and the position to aspire to Cornel,e Armand's hand. Cor nelie-no hothouse rose was ever tenderer or sweeter. The artists said among themselves that her sylph-ike figure would make her husbands fortune, were he painter. But Fleetwood loved the girl. He had met her thrice she hardly knew his name, perhaps, but he felt that he could win her had he place in the world He had superior talent, his powers were ratured also; but he had wasted much time, lacking purpose, perhaps He looked back respectfully now. That day, when he returned from DAisyp lths, he repaired with slow step to his studio His feet went unconsciously over the star of the high building. With cold hand he unlocked the door. The full-lighted room was in blaze ot summer sunshine Upon the easel was half finished pic ture.
 It was view of the scenery below Eight. elms, and also before Daisypaths, for the cottage stood below the hill on which arose the walls and pillars of the rich man nsn new mansion. Alovsly haven scene, with the furnished tide ,ippling in between the low, dark reefs-velvet- clothed knolls and blue hill heath sunset skies.
 Fleetwood had considered it happy thought to duplicate this view without the windows of Eightelms drawing room And heaven had seemed to lend him aid as he painted it. The ripples of water had caught the pure gold of the sky. Nettie knoll, where he had first seen Cornelie Armand at archery, rounded with lush green, and the line oflow blue hills rested beneath lowering clouds, roseate and shining. In the offing was single white sail, melting into lilac mist. In the fore ground, daisied fields.
 Fleetwood looked long at the picture recognizing his own success. Then he turned away with troubled brow.
 Ten days later he was again at Daisy paths. Ernest was in excellent spirits.
 am doing my best, Fleetwood l , he cried. And know have m ade some good points. Come and look at my pie ture. Do you know" he added, |" have had most fortunate thought have painted the offing 1"
 He uncovered the canvas. Fleetwood started.
 By strange coincidence, the view was the same as his own, and it was well done. Ernest was su,passing himself
 Is it promising-is it good9" asked the young man, eagerly.
 It is very good, Ernest"
 The tears started into Ernest's eyes.
 "Thank you, old fellowl I'd give more tor a word of praise from you than any other artist in the world. owe so much instruction to you, you know, Fleetwood
 By the bye, Ernest, do you see Cor nellie ?"
 "Yes; met her walking this morning with her great dog, Marquis. l-l don't think she is averse to me, Fleetwood.
 "Ahl"
 "She is so lovely, so sweet, SO modest ! Oh, but should think the heavens had fallen upon my head, angels and all, if l could become her husband |"
 Fleetwood surveyed his face ofrapture.
 You think she loves you, Ernest2"
 "A little," with an ingenious blush. But-but, Fleetwood, she is a good daughter she would never marry az ain st her fathers wishes. The old man dotes on her, you know; she is his ouly child. If earn her, she is, perhaps, mine. Not otherwise.
 Fleetwood turned silently away.
 For week more he worked assidu. ously at his picture. He seemed to find relief from his minds conflict in enrich. ing and elaboratipg 1t. Finally it was perfect. Another touch would mar.
 He seated himself at distan e, and surveyed it Yes, he had surpassed him. self, and well he knew the secret of his vuccess.
 It was his love for Cornelie.
 He turnad thA canvas vv;fh lie faee sn