The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1892-02-17
CHAPTER XVIII.


some face and figure were seen often in
fashionable parlors during the pastspring,
will regret to hear that he has completely
broken down under the strain of the
severe labor he imposed upon himself dur
ing the recent heated term, and that he
now lies suffering from an attack OF
nervous prostration, in his rooms, Studio
building, N Washington square
"Mr. Mackaye's genius is equaled only
by his ambition. He has for several years
been industriously at work upon a statue
from which he deservedly hoped to reap
fame and fortune. It was his fatal resolve
TO complete this statue In time for the
next academy opening which led to his
overworking himself.
"His masterpiece now stands finished in
his studio, but if his own vigorous young
life lie to be sacrificed to it, one can hardly
give 1t the full need of praise its trans
cendent merit claims"
Perhaps of the thousands of eyes which
were arrested by those three paragraphs
in the City SezUer for November of certain
date, in an uncertain year, three pair
only read them a second time, and read
ing them, pOndered them anxiously.
Jeanne Lenox always read the City Seuer
It was "spicy." 1t carved people up
with such a nice sharp knife" Even
Miss Hildah was not above suspicion of
having occasionally surreptitiously perused
and enjoyed its highly-spiced malice.
Jeanne read that statement about Ran
dali Mackaye, and bending her pretty
head low over the paper, cried tempestu-
ously for little while in a really heart
broken fashion
That accounted for everything !-ac-
counted for RsmdalPs not having been
near her since they parted at Mrs. Chit
ern's; accounted for his queer, short re-
plies to the notes she had sent him, con-
Veying gentle little reproaches for his ne
glect of "his best friends" Poor dear"
he had been killing himself trying to get
that statue done, so that he could take
his place before all men-his proud, right
full place as a genius. AS if she cared for
anything but him-just him-iust as he
wasl And now-perhaps-he was going
to die, and her father in Europe, and she
nothing but poor helpless girl, and no.
body to help hinl
Florence should find out for her lust
how i'll he was. If very i'll, she would 90
world. He was hers-and she loved him
No wonder Jeanne's taars flowed hot and
fast.
Dolly Chiltern read it. Dolly always
read the City Selger when he was in town.
Il was $50 deucedly personal that one
knew Just exactly what everybody was up
TO without the trouble of personal in
quiry. He would 90 straight to Mackaye
The fellow must be lonely, and it wasn't
his fault that Jeanne LenOx had chosen to
give her affections to a penniless Be-
hemian rather than to him, Dolly Chit
ern, worth half million in his own right
He would "stand by Mackaye."
Mrs. Roper read them and turned anx-
iously TO look at the date. The Citg SelCer
was not in her line. This copy had been
left IN her reception-room by fashionable
customer. 1t was week Old. He might
be dead and buried by that time! And,
whatever he might be, however he may
have treated her. all was forgotten now,
and she only remembered the child she
had promised to care for all her life.
In tremulous haste she got into her very
best dress and bonnet. Some of his fash
ionable friends might happen in while
there, and she shouldn't like Ran to be
ashamed of her.
It was with feeling akin to awe that
she stepped into the studio. The ianitor
had pointed it out to her. It was entirely
unlike anything she had ever seen before,
with its litter of white plaster casts and
ghostly busts and pictures, dthere, mys-
teriously draped, that tall thing" which
must be the statue he had almost killed
himself working at.
On a sofa-bed, so placed that his sad
eyes, when open, must rest on it, lay Ran
dali, his black hair matted over his broad,
white forehead, and one long. thin hand
lying upon the back of the sofa. His eyes
were closed when Mrs. Roper tiptoed
cautiously toward him. She stood over
him, with her best black kid gloves crossed
meekly in front of her there were tears in
her gentle eyes.
''Ran," she said softly bending over him
with hushed breath.
He opened his eyes, but evinced no sur
prise or emotion at her presence. He
simply gazed at her.
ats me, Ran; your sister, Rebecca."
"Iknow you, Becky, and-I am glad to
see you. Find a chair for yousef, won't
your"
The tears sprsng afresh into good Mrs.
Ropers eyes, tears of sorrow, perhaps at
seeing Rainier Ran, who had looked so
gay and handsome and strong that night.
sitting there in the square, lying here so
white, wan and heipless-tears of graft
tude, perhaps, for the tardy words, 81 am
glad to see you"
Il thought, perhaps, If there was no.
body you'd rather have, Ran, you'd let me
stay and nurse you. 1 read about you in
the papers"
There's nobody I'd rather have, Becky
lit is good of you TO come, and am glad
TO see YOU You won't mind if 1 90 to
sleep. lam very tired. Kiss me. Becky.
Kiss me good night as you used to a long
time ago-a pardoning kiss, sister,
She stopped down and kissed him,
That kiss bridged over all these long
years of neglect. 1t was the Ran of long
ago come back to her. She laid her bon
net and gloves aside, and stole about
noiselessly setting things straight while he
closed his eyes. She heard him sigh once
"a tired sigh; then he lay quite still.
There was no end Of medicine bottles
standing all about; and there were bou-
quets in various stages of decay. These
Mrs. Roper bundled unceremoniously into
a basket and, carrying them to the ele
vatOr, asked the elevator boy if he would
kindly dump them in the street: "Tht
smell of 'em is enough to kill a vel
man"
'Them's the young lady's flowers. DID
he say dump 'em out? She fetches EN-