The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1889-07-24


on the following day.
The strong light in the studio. where
the curtains were purposely drawn
back, revealed to the artist that he
had not been deceived with regard to
her appearance. The face was deli
cate, refined and indescribably sad.
She had evidently put on her best
clothes-a dress Of some soft black
stuff, and shawl of the same sable
hue wrapped round her head and
shoulders.
'You have posed as a model be-
fore?" asked Godfrey, noting the ar
tistic effect of this simple costume.
"No," said the girl, "never before. "
"What is your name9" asked the ar
tist
"Consuelo.'
"Consuelo," repeated the artist, "and
you look inconsolable.
The girl did not understand his re-
mark, but her large, dark eyes were
turned upon him wonderingly.
"Well, Consuelo we must make the
best of our time" said the artist.
Come, ! will arrange you as wish you
to sit," and he placed chair for her,
arranging with some care her attitude
and drapery.
"You do not feel tlmid, do you?"
asked Godfrey, kindly,
ooh, no." answered the girl, look
ing at him with wonder again. 1T was
incOnceivablc to her that she should
feel timid in his presence.
The grave, gentle face of the artist
had won her confidence completely.
Accustomed to rough looks, sometimes
blows, the child seemed in the atmos-
phere of this elegant studio to breathe
the air of paradise.
But the look of sorrow did not leave
her face; it was too deeply imprinted
there.
Godfrey was soon busy with his pen
Gil An artist, his soul was full of art.
10 him the animate beauty was only "a
stepping stone to the inanimate, every
thing lovely created that it might be
copied on the canvas and immortal
lied.
Consuelo's sitting was not long
one.
He thought it best not to tire her too
much the first day. and at the end of
the third hour rose from his easel and,
her, dismissed her till the
You will come again, won't you?"
said Godfrey.
The girls look answered him.
For the first time that she could re-
Consuelo went to her miser-
tble home happy. A new vista had
oeen opened to her. She had caught
l glimpse of another world with which
she seemed to feel some strange kim
ship.
How gladly those days glided by
while the angel of sorrow, half real
md half the creation of the artists
superb fancy, grew upon the canvas.
The last sitting came. Artist and
model were to part.
Godfrey, who had grown familiar
With the child, took her hand in his
'wn when he babe her adieu Sud-
lenly Consuelo burst into tears.
The artist himself felt unexpectedly
ind strangely moved. Even to him
he parting seemed painful. Why?
Blind egotism! unknown to himself he
lad learned to love. Only at this
risis did the truth dimly dawn upon
lin. But why those tears of hers?
strange infatuation! Then the child
must love him also.
She then turned away to weep.
"Consuelo," he said, gravely, "come
lere."
Consuelo came at his bidding.
Look at me straight in the face"
II can not" she sobbed.
"Consuelo, why do you weepp"
The face could be doubted no longer
kept by the blind.
Godfrey folded her tenderly in his
rms. unresisted. The lovely head
ested upon his bosom. His lips were
ressed to the blushing cheek.
''Cousuelo, would you like to stay
ere always-to be my wife?" he said,
ather nervously, half frightened him
elf.
The girl looked at him and seemed
0 make some sudden resolve.
Withdrawing herself from his en-
race, she wiped her eyes, aud then
Without another word or look fed from
he studio.
she is frightened, but l must fol-
DIV her." said the artist. How soon
he had become infinitely precious to
i'm! He fastened to the door, but no
race of Consuelo could be seen. He
aused to reflect. He did not know
ven her address. The Italian had
lready called for his money. How
hould he find her? What strange i'm
ulse had caused her to turn and fly so
udden? 1t was inexplicable, but he
lust find key to the mystery. How?
Would she not return to her old avoca-
ion, accompanying the organ? If he
earched the streets for few days he |
would soon find her again.
but days, Weeks and months rolled |
y; ana no trace of Consuelo or the |
Italian rewarded his anxious search.
SO his passion died away into a |
ague and hopeless regret. Nnthinn