The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1893-11-02


s5till she never offered 20 show IL
20 me, aud would not presume to ask
kept away for several days, thinking
she was best undisturbed. All artists
have gone through that phsse OF ex-
perience which she was undergoing.
Il is scarcely possible to avoid ii, II.
indeed. one has any appreciation Tor
or love OF art in ones nature.
AT last ono day ] walked down TO
the studio. / knocked at the door.
| There was no answer. | turned the
handle and entered. In The full light OF
the sunset as it streamed through the
window. stood the easel, covered no
longer. and. facing me, as paused on
the threshold, was the picture. stood
there too amazed 10 speak or move.
II was magnificent. II had not known
that only womsn's hand had con-
verted that canvas into a living,
breathing history | could not have be-
lieyed it. There was nothing crude,
or weak or feminine about it, The
power and force OF genius spoke on.
! like living voice, and seemed TO de-
mand the homage it so grandly chal-
lenged Suddenly I became aware of
a sound in the stillness--th low, sti-
| He'd sobbing of woman. / saw her
then. thrown face downward ON the
couch at the furthest end of the room,
| her face buried in the cushions, her
whole frame trembling and convulsed
with passion OF grief. 'Oh, Maui
rice = she sobbed, and then again only
that name Maurice Maurice Mau-
rice 1
IL closed the door softly and went
away. There seemed 20 be something
sacred in this grief. II could not
intrude on it, She was 80 near TO
Fame She held so great n gift, and
| yet she lay weeping her heart out yon-
der, like the weakest and most foolish
Of her sex, for well. what could |
think, but that it was for some mana
AXE.
He paused. his voice seemed little
less steady, little less cold
"On the morrow" he said abruptly,
"she WAS gone, leaving a note of fare
we'll. and-and thanks for me. | felt
momentsry disappointment / should
like to have said farewell to her, and
it was strange, too, how much missed
her and Denis. The loneliness and
quiet of my life grew more than lonely
rs the days went on, and ! at last
made mp my mind TO go to London.
Whether 10y chance or purpose found
myself there on the day the Academy
opened. All who are artists know
what that day means for them. !
we'll. | was artist enough to feel the
interest of art triumphs, and the sor-
row of its failures. | went where half
London was ihronging. aud mingled
with the crowd, artistic, critical and
curious, who were gathered i'll the
Academy galleries. Ipsssed into the
first room. I noticed how the crowds
surged and pushed aud thronged
around one picture there, and l heard
murmurs of praise and wonder from
scores of lips as i, too, tried to get
sight of what seemed to them so
marvellous and attractive. At last a
break in the throng favored me. L
looked over the heads of some dozen
people in front of the picture, and 1
saw-the picture had gazed at in
such wonder and delight in the studio
of Musette Delaporte! Deservedly
honored, it hung there on the line,
and already its praises were sounding,
and the severest critics as well as the
most enger enthusiasts were giving it
fame.
II turned away at last. My steps
L al hA =
skirts of the crowd by sight ola woman
whose figure seemed strangely famil-
lar. Her face was veiled and some
what averted. but knew we'll enough
that pose OF the beautiful head, that
coil of gold brown hair, just lifted
from the white neck. She-she did
not see me as for n moment l fingered
there. Then | noticed she was not
alone. Leaning on her arm was a
mau, his face pale and worn, as il by
long suffering, his frame bent and
crippled. As his eyes caught the pie
ture ! saw the sudden light and won
der that leaped into his face. ] saw,
too, the glory OF love and tenderness,
in hers. drew nearer; the man was
speaking How could you do it?' Ia,
, said how could youy oh, Murice
! forgive me, said that low, remembered
voice, Dearest are We not one in
; heart aud soul aud name? only fin
. ished what you had 81 we'll begun
, You were so i'll and helpless, and whel
you went into the hospital, oh, tn,
: days were so long and 80 empty,
meant to tell you, but when it WAS lin
: ished | had not the courage: so JUS
a sent it, signed, as usual, NJ, Delaporte
! IL never dared to hope it would b.
I accepted. After all, what did l do
=, The plan, the thought, the detail al
Z were yours; only my poor weak han'
1 worked when yours was helpless.
= ''l was so close l heard every word
a so close that saw him bend and kis
4 with reverence the hand that she hs'
called poor and weak, SO close that
heard the low w-breathed murmur iron
y | IL l.,a snnl kla.a anil raUarI unu