Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1892-09-23

E$sRHA -IAGfN!IIH the woman. In this
V[ig3FT .EihiH.I'l instance the result
IHF'F''F was merely on ap-
pointment-which both Of them kept.
Hector McLane cane to Paris with
noble resolutions, theory of color and a
small allowance. Paris played havoc
with all of these. He was engaged to a
nice girl at home, who believed him des-
tined to become a great painter; delu
sion which McLane shared.
He entered with great zest into the life
of Partisan art student, but somehow
the experience did not equal his antici-
pations. What he had read in books
poetry and prose-had thrown halo
around the Latin quarter and be was
therefore disappointed in finding the
halo missing. The romance was sordid
and merccnary, and after few months
of it he yearned for something better.
In Paris you may have nearly every
thing-except the something better. It
exists, of course, but it rarely falls in the
way Of the usually impccunious art stu
dents. SO it happened, that as luck was
not against the young man, he found it
when he abandoned the search for it.
McLane's theory was that art had be-
come too somber. The world was running
overmuch after the subdued in color.
He wanted to be able to paint things as
they were, and was not to be deferred if
his pictures were called gaudy. He OBJ
tanned permission to set up his easel in
the Church of Notre Dame, and in the
dim light there he endeavored to place
Oh canvas some semblance of the splen-
dor of color that came through the huge
rose window high above him. He was
discouraged to see how opaque the colors
in the canvas were as compared with the
translucent hues Of the great window.
AS he leaned back with sigh of defeat
his wandering eyes met, for one brief
instant, something more beautiful than
the stained glass, as the handiwork OF
God must always be more beautiful than
the haEdiWCrk of man. The feeting
glimpse was OF melting pair of dark
limpid eyes, which, meeting his, were
instantly yelled, and then he had longer
view of the sweet face they belonged to.
Il was evident that the young girl had
been admiring his work, which was
more than he could hope to have the
professor at Julien's do. Lack of assur-
ance was never considered, even by his
dearest friend, to be among McLane's
feelings. He rose from his painting
stool, bowed, and asked her if she would
not sit down for a moment; she could
see the-the-painting so much bet
ter. The girl did not answer, but turned
frightened look upon him, and fed
under the wing of her kneeling duenna,
who had not yet finished her devotions.
1t was evident that the prayers of the
girl had been briefer than those of the old
women in whose charge she was. Where
the need is greatest the prayer is often
the shortest. McLane had one more
transitory glimpse Of those dark eyes as
he held open the swinging door. The
unconscious woman and the conscious
girl passed out of the church.
This was how it began.
The painting of the colored window of
Notre Dame now occupied almost all the
time at the disposal of Hector McLane.
No great work is ever accomplished with
out unwearied perseverance. 1t was re-
markable that the realization of this
truth came upon him just after he had
definitely made up his mind to abandon
the task. Before he allowed the swing
ing door to close he had resolved to pur-
sue his study in color. 1t thus happened,
incidentally, that he saw the young girl
again and again, always at the same hour
and always with the same companion.
Once he succeeded, uunoticed by the
elder, in slipping note into her hand,
which he was pleased and 1ettered to
see she retained and concealed. Another
day he had the JOY Of having a few
whispered words with her in the dim
shadow of one of the gigantic pillars.
After that, progress was comparatively
easy.
Her name was Yevette, he learned,
and lie was amused to ind with what
expert dexterity perfectly guiIeless and
innocent little creature such as she was
managed to Glade the vigilance of the
aged and experienced woman who had
her in charge. The stolen interviews
usually took place in the little park be-
hind Notre Dame. There they sat on a
bench facing the fountain, or walked up
and down on the crunebing gravel under
the trees. In the afternoons they walked
u the secluded part of tae park, in the