St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1889-08-18
THE MODELS STORY
Thrilling Tale Told by London Writer.

times become part and parcel of his free
Bohemian life. And ELY Mallon, in
her strange, wild way. loved Winthrop
with all her misguided heart and
stormy, turbulent soul. She-it is gen.
!, orally figure of speech--she would
have died for him if he had needed is!
But from the day when she took her
place at his left hand, misfortune took
! her stand at his right. Harvey Win
thr0p no longer proSpered.
His pictures no longer sold. She
that great lady, who had once been a
| great actress and drawn all men to her
by her evil beauty and the spell of her
i deep sweet voice-She found newer
| favOrite, and Harvey Winthrop was
cast aside. He treated the matter care
lessly at first, but when money was no
longer at command, when his love of
dress and luxury could no longer be
gratified, he grew moroSe and fretful.
| She-the woman who had been his pa
tronesS-had taken set of sketches
| Cornish landscape and sea studies
/ from him some time previously. and
| when he grew impatient at delay, and
wrote, asking her for the heavy price
that had been set upon the weak, poor,
pretty things, they were contemptuously
returned. Mrs. Caroline longer cared
to have them, ran the message; they
were Ineffective against the background
of the room for which she had intended
| them. 1t was on the evening of the
| day on which the sketches were sent
I, back to Mr.. Winthrop that he struck
the W oman who loved him for the first
mot the las time.
ut pierced me like sword blade
| when l heard the sound of that blow,
and the low cry of agony that broke
from her. 1t wrung my heart to see
her tears-such tears! The might have
been drops of molten lead for all the
womanly relief they gave her. But the
red mist cleared away that time, and
left no deeper stain behind. The hand
that had clenched with desire of VEN
geance, fell loosely at my side. For.
after all, he was my master, and had
been kindly in his way. And she loved
him-The good Lord help her! So the
days went on.
''Poorer and poorer we grew. 1 lived
on little-it was nothing to me; but she
[-she must have suffered. For priva-
ton was new to her. and what money
there was he spent. Friends he had in
plenty, ready to give him wine and
meat aud cigars, even to lend him
Sovereigns Oh occasion, and many were
/ these occasions with Harvey Winthrop.
I But she was proud, and when he did
not think of her she had no thought for
| herself. / did what | could-it was not
much-it would have been less if she
| had known it.
/ "She was proud, say, and her pride
| helped her. She was brave, and her
bravery gave her strength. She was
more beautiful than ever in these days.
| A renewed. a purified ELY MallOn looked
out of the dusk, delicate caves beneath
| those sweet. straight browS of hers.
with eyes like those of some tender,
| tortured wOman-saint of old dying ia
| the wilderness. L am only superanu-
ated model, rough and half Gypsy, but
my secret worship for her made me
quick to see things where she was con-
cerned. Her love was her publication,
her suffering part of her atonement for
| the past. That blush of hers had been
| like a baptism of fret had left her
changed creature.
my master worked but little, and
| was seldom kind or tender to her now.
Still, stray word OF kiss less careless
than usual was enough to rouse her
into merry spirits and bring the color
| to those pale cheeks again. Perhaps he
would have cast her off if it had not
been that she saved him money, and
that other men envled him the model
patient, intelligent, untiring-whO was
ever at his beck and call. One man
did, even more than others-a keen,
: clever American. Chauncey Lindom, by
name. He had made OvertureS to her.
as others had, only to be refused. Poor
Ely! as if she had been the most mod
est woman in the world. Her savage
faithfulnesS was part of her nature.
She would sit to WInthrop-and to no
other man.
"And he came to her one day and
spoke tenderly to her, kissed her on the
ewes and mouth in the old half-careleSS
way, and then-broke the news he had
been boarding. He was poor, very poor
just now, and Chauncey LindOm, who
was rich, she knew. had offered him
hundred pounds-a hundred golden
soyereigns-and Oh what condition.?
Merely that ELY Mallon should sit to
him some half-doZen times-that was
all. His great picture, 1.-The Death of
Hypatia'-its success depended upon
her consent. For nowhere could a
model be found beautiful enough to pose
as Hypatia. Would she not consent?
Sand she refused.
"With tears, with prayers, with burn
ing bushes mantling over cheeks, brow.
throat. With caresseS, only to be re-
jected and lastly with sharp words of
reproach, to be turned aside Oh the
shield of his cool contempt. A common
model, grown too nice for her trade Be-
cause she loved thanklesS, selfish dog
like that! Poor ELY Mallon.
There is not much more to tell, and
they are waiting for mel
HE forced her to CONSENT don't
know how. With threats of abandon
ment. Or-he was always a theatrical
creature-of his own ruin. But he gained
his point Chauncey Lindom paid the
9l00-in advance-that was the stlpllla-
tion-and the date of the first sitting
was agreed upon.
THAT night the old wolfhound that
had lain upon the studio hearth, and
followed me to and fro upon my er rands
for the past half-doZen years, was
stricken by the sickness of old age, and
seemed, as we thought, about to die.
And master, who was always merclful
to brutes, gave me money and paper
with the name of poison written upon
it-some powerful acid that Stays like
lightning stroke and leaves Scant trace
behind. 1t smelt like bitter almonds.
l remember, when the chemist poured
it out. [ brought it home; but the dog
was dead, and themoney wasted. The
pHlal STOOD upon the SnelI an nOur, ana
Their saw it no more.
''Elly Mallon went to Lindom's studio
OH the day appointed. She was paler
than l had yet seen her, and taller, and
her eyes were wilder and more melan-
eholy than those of the painted Gree.
But she was very calm and quiet-too
quiet. now that come to think Of it;
for had heard her weeping all the
night before, and imploring my master
not to send her-not to let her go; to
have pity On her and understand
understand why it was that the old life
had become horror to her! But he
had no pity, and he did not understand.
Il went with her to the studio, did
say? She shook hands with me as l
left her, almost as if she were saying
Goodbye, old Georgn- L did not go
home; something would not let me. l
hung about, and waited in the shrub
berry near the great window. Unseen
myself. could see all that went on in
the studio. saw her come out by and
by from the inner room, and drop the
coverings from her tall white lowell
l. J,pi r +I,n