The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1890-02-06

days, as she calls them; one of those
days which came upon her quite frequent
ly, when an inward restlessness would
suddenly break through, and even her
beloved brushes can not soothe her. On
such days her thoughts would travel
back over the long vista of years, and
she would unconsciously ask herself If
she would not have been happier had she
listened to Tom Landsies pleadings, for
she found, when too late that she did love
him. 1t was long time before she
would admit it to herself; besides, the
first two years abroad were such busy,
exciting years that she hardly had time
for thought outside of her work. Then
she always expected Ton to write or come
to her sometime, but as the years went
by and no word came she began to realiza
feeling of disappointment.
Her talent has fulfilled all that it
promised to in the old W days, and
her pictures are in the Salon. She has
developed into beautiful woman; her
name is well known, and she has many
admirers who endeavor to win the hand
and heart of the young American artist.
But to all she turns a deaf ear, always
hoping in her heart of hearts that some
happy chance would bring her and Tom
together
Her aunt having died the second year
they were in Paris, Rene is alone and
feels her loss keenly, for she has no other
relations and therefore has no occasion to
return TO her own country,
On this particular afternoon she is in
her studio, when, after several vain at
tempts to continue her work, she impa-
| tientlv throws down her brushes and, ris-
ing, pulls the bell.
"Order the carriage" she impatiently
says to the maid who answers it.
'SDoes mademoiselle know the state of
the Weather. asks the maid.
ayes, tut no matter; the closed car
riage," she replies.
Soon she is wrapped in her furs and
driving through the gloomy streets of
Paris. "To the Salon." she absently
tells the coachman. Arriving there she
slowly wanders through the long CALLER
les, stopping now and then to examine
some picture, until she nears the place
where her best picture is hung.
The subject of her picture is simple
''The Parting" 1t is night scene, and
shows the UNCOVERED porch of an old
fashioned cottage, the moon shining
through the vines and shedding its soft
radiancy over young girl, who is lean
ing against one of the pillars. Sheis tall
and slender, is dressed in white, and has
sweet, almost beautiful face; her arms
hang by her side, and she gazes with a
sad, yearning expression after young
man who is going from her with dark
look upon his countenance.
Though the subject is so simple, there
is certain charm about the two figures
that ones gaze is riveted for the time
being. 1t is so life like that ole can al
most feel the stiffness of the moonlight
and hear the young mans angry steps
upon the gravel walk.
To-day there are but few people in this
part of the gallery. A few ladies and a
gentleman at one end, tourists with their
guide books in hand, and at the other
end, and almost opposite her picture, a
man is comfortably seated on a leather
divan. He has the appearance of having
prepared himself for a long study of the
pictures opposite.
Rene careIessly notes him, and is about
to pass him when she hears sudden
| Nd Sc
Excuse me, but surely this is Miss Nee
ly, the artist.
Her heart stands still, for even after
so long time she knows it is Tom Land
sic who is standing before her with out
stretched hand. Her hand trembles in
his clasp, as she exclaims: "Mr. Land
sic! What are you doing here2"
Looking at your pictures" he smil-
ingly replies. cat friends house last
evening heard you and your pictures
discussed and came here to-day to see
them. 1t is not too late for an old friend
to offer his congratulations on your sue
cess, is it?" Aud he goes on talking in
his bright, entertaining manner, Rene
trying to be herself the while, but half
the time only answering in monosylla-
bles
He notices how pale she has become
and inquiries if she is unwell
81 have not been well all day." she re-
plies, putting her hand to her forehead,
"and as it is growing late l had better
go home"
He goes down to her carriage with
her, and putting her in, is about to close
the door when he suddenly reaches in
and takes her hand
MADAM De Vile said you would be
at her reception this evening. l will
hope to see you there. Until then, good
by" and slightly pressing her hand he
closes the door and she is driven back to
the elegant hotel she calls home.
Once there, she gropes her way up
stairs. Inside of her room she stands a
moment, then. as the tears begin to run
| down her cheeks, she throws herself on
a lounge and brokenly murmurs to her
self: "His love for me is dead, and I
alone am to blame" Then she remem-
| DOTS HOW lTlcuuly llc WIS anu HOW SOTTy
he seemed to learn of her aunt's death.
How sympathetic his few words seemed.
They seemed to fill some void in her
poor lonely heart which all the homage
due to her gratiied ambition had failed
to fill.
That evening at Madam De Ville's re-
ceptlon she is as usual surrounded by her
own little court of admirers; but several
of them notice how absent minded she
is. 1t is late in the evening when Mr..
Landsie approaches her. She feels tired
and is looking pale. He notices it, and
before she can speak he has drawn her
arm through his, and she finds herself
mechanically walking into the adjoining
apartment. 1t is sort of sanctum, a
sofa is in small alcove, and to this he
masterfully leads her. Throwing aside
his conventional attitude and taking her
hands he looks searchingly into her
white face
Irene, haven't you word to say!
Are you not little bit glad to see me3
| thought yesterday, when ! SO unex-
| nocfadIv mot won in tho Salon that