The Arizona sentinel., 1889-07-27


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 name?" asked the ar
tist
"Consuelo.'
'Consuelo," repeated the artist, land
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, Twill arrange you as wish you
to sit," and he placed a chair for her,
arranging with some care her attitude
and drapery.
''You do not feel Gimid, do you?"
asked Geoffrey, kindly.
''Oh, no." answered the girl, look
ing at him with wonder again. II was
inconceivable to her tnat 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.
To him the animate beauty was only
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,
thanking her, dismissed her till the
morrow.
You will come again, won't you?"
said Godfrey.
The girls look answered him.
For the first time that she could re-
member Consuelo went to her miser-
able home happy. A new vista had
been opened to her. She had caught
a 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
and 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
own when he bade her adieu. Sud-
denly Consuelo burst into tears.
The artist himself felt unexpectedly
and strangely moved. Even to him
the parting seemed painful. Why?
Blind egotism! unknown to himself he
had learned to love. Only at this
crisis did the truth dimly dawn upon
him. 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
here"
Consuelo came at his bidding.
Look at me straight in the face"
Il can not" she sObbed.
"ConsuelO, why do you weep?"
The face could be doubted no longer |
except by the blind.
Geoffrey folded her tenderly in his |
arms. unresisted. The lovely head |
rested upon his bosom. His lips were
pressed to the blushing check.
''Consuelo, would you like to stay
here always-to be my wife?" he said,
rather nervously, half frightened him
self.
The girl looked at him and seemed
to make some sudden resolve.
Withdrawing herself from his en-
brace, she wiped her eyes. and then
without another word or look fed from
the studio.
''She is frightened, but must fol-
-ow her." said the artist. How soon
she had become infinitely precious to
him! He hastened to the door, but no
trace of Consuelo could be seen. He
paused to reflect. He did not know
even her address. The Italian had
already called for his money. How
should he find her? What strange i'm
pulse had caused her to turn and fly so
sudden? 1t was inexplicable, but he
must find key to the mystery. How?
Would she not return to her old avoca-
ion, accompanying the organ? If he
the streets for few days he
would soon find her again.
But days, weeks and months rolled
1y; and no trace of COnsuelo or the
italian rewarded his anxious search.
So his passion died away into a
vague and hopeless regret. Nothing
of Consuelo but the blending
IF her beauty with his own dreams in
he picture. So he devoted himself
Nth n,rod n,.dn,, tn hic 70 |