, 1888-11-11

mATHER.
Roy had crushed this letter in his hand,
and walked on with the feeling that he
had nothing more to hope or expect in
this world. He had, in fact, been work,
ing against hope for the last month, with
a cold, despairing feeling settling down
about his heart. He was one of the COM
p~etitors for a prize, but each day he
passed his brush over the days work
with an angry vehemence, obliterating
+ his failures. -
II am a gigantic mistake, " he said to
himself gloomily. There's nothing left
for me but to go back to the button fac.
tory. There's nothing in me. l cant
get up the ghost of a conception for a
picture. My figures look as if cut out of
~pasteboard, my skies are like Aunt Rox-
Annals bluing, my rocks are pasty.
Heighol l could almost wish I'd lived
in those wonderful days of magic and
wizards. If any obliging gentleman in
black should appear now and. say, Roy
Mather, you shall nave your hearts de-
sire for the paltry consideration Of
Halloo! who are you tumbling over?"
A fierce ''sacre' came from the adj
v~ancing foe, but the next moment it was
changed to a greeting. A sallow faced,
dark eyed gentleman in black stopped
suddenly, and then said:
at is Monsieur Mather, ell? All! you
come, l suppose, from your friend-ahl
the poor young man-cut down like a
fiower"-
What do you meant cried Roy, rec
nizing a fellow student.
lis it that you ask meY Why, l
thought it was with you, Damon, and
what you call the other?''
Never mindl What is the matter
with Lang?"
''Ohl he is dying, that is all!'
Roy turned away and walked rapidly.
He had been SO occupied with his work,
having a studio of his own now, that he
had hardly thought, of Lang for three
weeks, and his conscience smote him.
But certainly Mather could not be so
desperate, or his friend would have let
him know.
He made his way up the dim stairway,
meeting no one. When he pushed open
the door Of Lang's room there was no
light or any sound save a half smothered
moan from the bed.
He found a match after awhile and lit
n candle. Then he called his friend by
name, but there was no answer.
He took the light in his hand. A hor-
rible fear was clutching at his heart as
he walked toward the bed, for the moan
ing had ceased. And at the first glance
it looked as if the shadow that lies in
wait for all of us had indeed crossed that
threshold, and laid a dim hand upon one
aching brow.
"He is gone, poor fellowl" thought
Roy, land no one beside him to hear his
last words or to hold his hand in the su-
preme moment. Perhaps, though, there
may be some faint pulse of life. If | had
some stimulants"-
He bathed the cold face with water
first, and then looked about for some
thing stronger.
In doing this he saw an easel, and
upon it stretched a finished picture, that
even in that faint and dim light glowed
with life and power. There was a tall
headland, pine crowned, draped with
dainty ferns. Above it the misty air
seems like amber, the sky is of melting
gold. Below, the sea, with its emerald
light and foam crested waves and flame
opals of light. And where the reeds
seem to thrill with the wind stands n
hk n lily queen,
A miracle of snow and gold.
1t is Miranda on her island. She looks
at Roy with fearless, innocent but tender
eyes.
She lives! 1t would hardly seem a
miracle if she stepped forth and touched
his hand. All! this is genius! He recog-
nizes it with a groan.
And the man whose cunning hand has
done the work is lying there deadl 1t is
nothing to him now, that he would have
won the prize. What are earthly laurels
to him, who sees the amaranth's death
less bloom2 What are all the triumphs
or the toll to one on whom a new day
dawns in the land where there shall be
no night2
81 must take care of this picture"
said Roy. HE would have given it To
me, and it will not do to let it fall into
the hands off,
lie had rolled it up with this thought,
and hearing the door open turned to face
a virago.
so, some one at last. And how is it
that you make your way into my house,
and ask nc leave2 The doctor it is who
has forbidden"
THE poor fellow is a friend of mine,
and if you will get a little wine, l think
he is in n faint"
'Wine2 All! but heart Does he not
owe me fifty francs? And he was to pay
with his grand prize, and here he has
escaped-died out of pure malice-to
cheat me. But l will have all-all he
has had the grace to leave. Typhus, too;
that frightens my dodgers. All, 1 am a
lone woman, and nave no one to take my
part!'
''Typhus!'' cried Roy, looking at the
bed with n fear for himself selfshly
springing up in his heart. Here. take
this, and l will send some wine for him. "
He offered the woman money, and
then stopped ono more over his friend.
There was no pulse.
Thanks; monsieur is n gentleman"
exclaimed the woman. 81 will do all
for this friend; but he will not drink the
wine! Oh, mol the poor youth has
entered the habitations of the blest, and