The record-union., 1892-08-06

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Paris, study and devote my life to art"
why should l laugh?" asked her
cousin. ut is excellent advice. Why
should you not follow it?''
why should / follow it?" reioined
Miss Methuen. "Why should 1 go to
Paris when l can get all I require in
! Brussels? l shall come back here next
WINTER
And waste your time with Fusain,
when you might be working under a
greater master?''
Il do not consider NJ. Fusain has been
my real master" she replied. 81 am not
! coming back for the sake of what he will
/ teach me-" Then she broke off suddenly.
| Gilbert" she cried, why do you advise
Inc to go to Paris?"
I'm your own interests, my cousin -
b. replied. you have talent; there you
will develop it,"
But you should help me to all | want
to do. You are not tired of the trouble l
| have given your
on honor me with too high an opin-
ion," he said; "but even were L a compe-
/ tent guide for you, ! should not be at your
disposal next winter. | shall not be in
| Brussels
Not in Brussels? Where. then, shall
! you be?''
81 shall be in the Congo State" he an
swered quietly. Il have heard great
/ deal about it lately. The King has offered
me post. | have accepted it,"
! Miss Methuen's face was very pale
Gilbert" she exclaimed, "are you
really going to exile yourself, to bury
yourself in that
! De Lastrin looked up in surprise
1t viii be no banishment," he inter-
rupted; lit will be shaking oil Of the
! Wearisome old life; the beginning of a
newer, brighter one, l hope; the solution
OF many of the difficulties which have
! harassed me so long,
! Miss Methuen's dry tongue Glove to the
roof OF her mouth; the words she sought
| would not form themselves. She stretched
| her hand out and laid it over his; he let it
! lie there unheeded. Then she spoke in a
! hoarse voice, which she hardly recog-
nized herself.
Ind when shall I see you again?"
POSSIBLY never,'' he replied
1t is not possible" she cried passion
ately; lit is impossible! Gilbert, how
dare you come and deal me such cruel
| blow! Don't you understand"
Il do not understand. beg Of you not
to explain yourself in way which you
might atterWard regret"
''Ah, Gilbert" she cried, piteously, ST
must say it all now. 1t doesn't matter
what you think. Why do you want to go
TO the Congo TO begin new life? Can't
you begin new life here? Haven't you
begun one already? Oh, 1 have been so
happy all these weeks and months, and |
thought you were happy, too!"
Her face was lifted TO his, pale and tear
stained, her large eyes full of passionate
pleading, her beautiful lips trembling
For moment he hesitated, then drawing
his hand from hers, he said:
Dora, you are child beginning life:
there IS gull between you and me which
you cannot measure. Some time you will
remember this and understand what [
mean narbanS tbOuUb on tho wv 1uo
had far better forget it all. l shall prob
ably not see you again. Shall we say
goOd-by now?"
NO." she cried, 81 shall never forget,
nor Will you, however hard you try. AS
to saying good-by cannot say it."
She turned and laid her head against
the wall behind her. When she looked up
again she was alone, and was it her inn
agInation, or was some one really sing
ing with all its hooking beauty, fully
emphasized, Isl tn ne m'aimes pas, ie
t'aime?"
''It is all over" said Miss Methuen. half
aloud, there is nothing left of it but a
hateful ghost" and the weird music fol-
lowed her down the stairs, a little re-
QUEEN for the burial of her shattered
dream.
1t was the month of May, the merry
month of May in Paris. The CAV world
tai, and the Salon-an unusually good
Salon, too, every one said-was crowded
with visitors every afternoon.
My dear Dora, you don't know how
proud am of myself and of you. 1t is the
next most important thing to being an
exhibitor oneself to be ciceroned through
the galleries by one of the most success
full artists of the year."
1t was Nine. Van der Heyden who said
this, as she and Miss Methuen made their
way slowly through the throng in the
Palais de L Industrie.
Pm glad you, appreciate the honor"
replied Miss Methuen. 'To think l have
studied here for two years now, and how
absurd the idea sounded to me when
Wauters first suggested it at the Fusains'
soiree."
81 remember that soiree," said Mme
Van der Heyden, with sharp glance at
her companion. II was extremely dis
appointed because de Lastrin never APP
peared at it. By the way, dear, you
might tell me how it was your tame bear
turned wild again and rushed off to the
jungles. Did you really refuse him?r
Il have told you BEFORE" replied Miss
Methuen. shat I did not refuse him."
And you have heard nothing of him
since he went?"
Nothing"
"He didn't stay in his senses long,
dear.n
Her companion made no reply.
And your picture,' began Nine. Van
der Heyden again; f'your Jason Yoking
the Fiery Oxen,' where does that come?''
I'VE are just reaching it. There it is"
Dear me, and what crowd round it,
1t will take US half an hour to work our
way through. | wonder" she added,
slyly, what de Lastrin will say of your
successor
He will not hear of it."
But, dear. it is in all the art Jour
nails"
art Journals do not get so far as the
Congo" said Miss Methuen.
M OF often, perhaps" replied Simonne
but chance one might; in fact, l may as
Well make clean breast OF il. You know
that paragraph which appeared in the
BeGur-ArtS few weeks before the Salon
opened, speaking of your picture and Du-
rams appreciation of it. Well, took the
liberty of marking the paragraph and
sending the paper to your cousin.''
My dear Slmonne, you didn't"
ly dear Dora, L did. l thought it
wonld cheer his heart to see that his
lucid interval had borne such excellent
fruit"
By this time the two friends had so far
penetrated the throng in front of the pict-
ure as to be able TO see it. Lifting her
glasses to her eyes Mime. Van der Heyden
looked long and earnestly at what, by
universal consent, was pronounced one
Of the pictures of the year.
Dora" she said at length, ''of course
you know Pm no judge of how it's done.
If your master Is charmed, what is left for
me to say? But one remark must make
and that is: Where did you find that face
for your Jason?'
From my imagination" was Miss
Methuen's somewhat curt reply.
From your imagination repeated her
friend. my dear, L should rather cali il
from your memory"
Miss Methuen's color rose slightly.