Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1888-01-08

lessness had driven her TO this extremity
The womans pride said no, but ths
mothers love cried yes!
In quick resolution Madeline rose up
nos moment was TO be lost (; abe would
return TO her husbands home before til,
child died.
Her sudden movement awakened the
baby, and he opened his eyes anC
stretched out his hand TO his mother
seizing one OF her fingers with little
cry; the poor woman burst into tears
and would have drawn her fingers from
the clinging baby-clnsp, for it was the
third finger OF the left hand, and tho
ring was no longer there. II she re
turned to her husband it would be with
out the sign which marked the difference
between her and the nominal mistress Of
the house.
She sat down again and rocked her
self to and fro in her misery; she could
not return like that; the one door Of
escape was closed to her; she must 70,
main and die with her child.
Like o creature at bay she looked
wildly around her again; she might
have missed something; surely some one
thing remained which might buy food
for the child.
There was nothing to be seen but the
old tubes and the dirty canvas there
was nothing to be heard but the steady
drip, drip, drip, of rain on the tiles out
side. All at once the sound became as,
ISOLATED with the words she had heard
during a shower some weeks before
" True art has to do with decay and
death I" Madeline smiled with wo.
mans bitterness as she said the words
aloud. She had lost her girlisbness, de-
spite her nineteen years, as aged and
careworn as woman Of forty; all the
gracious roundness OF face and figure
had disappeared; she was gaunt and
thin and her face wore the haunted ex-
preston Of one who is dying Of hunger.
"True art Surely 1 know it now,
she said harshly, glancing from her bony
fingers to the quiet little form on her
knee. AS she gazed her breath came
thick and fast, and a red flush rose to
her forehead as she glanced at the win
dow for moment she hesitated, then
"Oh, my baby Oh, my darling, for
give me l must do it to save you, " she
cried, but she shuddered as she laid the
child down and stepped to the window,
from which she took the old canvas.
The air, getting cool now, for it was
nearly October, seemed to chill her to
the bone, but she closed her lips firmly
and examined the tubes on the plate
without faltering.
1t was not yet o'clock, and she set to
work busily; in little while the walls of
the attic began to appear upon the can
vas; they were roughly sketched in, and
spoke eloquently of the poverty of the
place. The freless CRATE, the bare floor,
the rough table, were putin one by one,
and then with n strange sorrow IN her
eyes Madeline turned to the baby. He
was lying upon an old shawl fast asleep,
the bIue-veined lids fallen over the eyes,
the white sunken cheek, the colorless
lips, seeming to belong TO the dead
rather than to the living. One thin
baby arm was visible; it lay upon
the boards, the forefnger of the
hand pointing stifily toward the door.
Madelines eyes grew dark with tears,
and she bent over the child and kissed
him softly before she resumed work !;
then, the same determined resolution
upon her face, she began to model the
little limbs. Once she paused and
covered her face with her hands, deter
mined not to continue, but the weakness
was only momentary. "True art has to
do with decay and death, she repeated,
adding bitterly, land if this be so life
itself is truest art.
Once again she took up her brush and
proceeded with her work. She painted
rapidly and well, without knowing the
beauty of line and composition growing
under her hand, attaining without con-
scious effort a truth of effect as admira-
BILE as it was difficult Of achievement
The morning went on and she was still
at her task. She stopped and looked at
the baby anxiously; would he stir before
she had completed it? No, he was
sleeping quietly still, not even a curl Of
hair moved by the wind, which, coming
through the broken pane, was making her
fingers stiff and cold. 1t was all the
better that he still slept; she could not
bear to hear his feeble wall when lie was
awake and cried for the food she could
not give him.
And more and more smiled Isabel
To see the baby sleep SO well.
The lines required to her with q kind OF
shock, and fearing she knew not what,
she went and looked down at the baby
then she smiled at her own foOlishness
as she heard the low breathing of the
little one, and returned to her work with
new courage to complete it. She painted
in feverish excitement, lines from other
poems repeating themselves under every
train of thought.
Alas for the rarity
OF Christian charity
Under the sun
Oh, II was pitful!
Near n whole city full,
Homo she had none.
"Yet who would believe" she said
fiercely, "that in this great city, among
ell its riches, women and children are
daily dying for lack of food ?"
"'Alas that bread should be so dear,
and flesh and blood so cheap Who
cares? Who among all these millions
gives thought to the starving thousands
that perish ?"
Even Gods providence
Seeming estranged.
Her thoughts answered her. "What
have l done that l should suffer so ?
she moaned. "How could l remain to
see another taking my place in my hus-
bands house ? Surely it was no crime
to save my child. Could l bear to see
him growing like his father? It's hard,
o God it is hard but the sin--if it was
sin-is mine punish me if Thou wilt,
save my baby !"
Little light came into the attic at the
best of times, but the daylight was fading
already Madeline had no time to spare
for her thoughts, she must hasten on.
She closed her lips determinedly and
worked on, the picture growing beneath
her touch with inconceivable rapidity.
1t was only a sketch, but she grew dimly
that every stroke of the brush
was telling; if she could get the whole
effect in that one sitting there would be
no need to alter the picture by the small
est detail. 81 will not even gaze at it,
she resolved.
BY this time the artists enthusiasm
had begun TO render the feelings of the
mother less wildly sensitive. and Made