Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1886-11-11
N, NOVEMBER


him more, she could not fattsr herself that
he showed any enthusiasm concerning the
matter.
at will be different when / am famous"
she thought. "They will come running
to me eagerly then. And then, too, per-
haps@"
Her thoughts reverted regretfully to
Paul. Would he love her still, when she
had gained wealth and fame, and could
find leisure 10 think of lover The poor
child was beginning to long for loves hap
piness. Ambition and fame, even when
they aw attainable, are but dry, barren
husks at best, to feed a woman's loving
heart upon.
"Pll take pictures to other Shops she
thought as she painted industriously.
She did so. Poor child, she could find
no one to receive them-no one who wanted
them at all. "That is not art" said one
gruff old dealer, "thats child's play-fancy
work-women's rubbish. You have found
one shop where it sells, you say? Take it
there, then. You'll not easily find another!"
She went cut like one in a dream, or,
rather, like one who Is daZed by sudden
waking. She went straight to the dealer
who had taken her pictures first, and i'm
iion iiia @Raaf rns1IAi are my S4r dfSSinss i really
worth?"
She saw his embarrassment at once. No
need for further answer.
81 understand" she said, quietly-she
was very pale. But why did you ever re-
ceive them?"
The dealer explained. The gentleman
mad requested it so earnestly-the gentle
man who brought the drawings first, and
who had bought all that had been sold.
Her startled exclamation stopped him.
"He? he? Oh, Paul! my benefactor!
Always my benefactor. How have 1 been
so blind? What shall do? How shall l
atone? How can ever repay your"
She hastened home, and told her mother
all.
"Come with me to him." she implored
her. II cannot rest until l have confessed
my error, and thank him for his goodness.
To think the love of such heart was mine,
and that lost it,"
She had not lost it, however. Love such
as this man had given her is not taken back
so easily. Many an hour of sorrow and re-
gret had she caused Paul, but still he loved
| her.
Together. Evelyn and her mother sought
him.
He was at home, the servant told them,
and alone.
"Let us go to him unannounced," Evelyn
whispered.
They did so. He was sitting with his
back to the half-open door, his face buried
in his hands, resting on the desk before him.
He lifted it as Mrs. Gray pronounced his
name, and Evelyn saw in his hands, where
his face had lain, her first picture of the
roses.
She ran to him with little thrilling cry,
and fell upon her knees beside him.
| "Forgivel For4ive!" she sobbed.
| Next minute he had clasped her to his
breast
If Evelyn ever paints pictures now, it is
for amusement. or to adorn the pretty mod
est home her husbands love has given
her. am told that she has presented him
with lovely little miniature of himself,
however; and that they are both agreed
that the most marvellous productions OF the
most eminent artists are not even worthy
! of naAniiai, as aanaparad with "I4ittle Paul.
| Evelyns dream of ambition Is over; she
has awakened to the reality of happiness IL
its stead. If Paul asks her, laughlngly, as
he does sometimes, "has she no yearninl
after fame2"-"Ah, mol" she will reply
with q tender smile, Il have what's better
dearest love, and love is far sweeter thar
fame"