The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1893-09-12
CHATTER VIII.

walt.
CHAPTER VIII.
Delatole's apartments were in the Uni
versity building. He loved the weather
stained pile because ii was old-so little
was old in New York. He loved the
gloomy halls and the high, dusty win
dows. His rooms were medley where
discord in the extreme blended into a
startling harmony. Curiosity shops had
been ransaclxed for treasures. and he had
even paid flying visits to ship chambers
shops upon the wharves in the desire to
collect antagonistic bits. Fish nets that
had the salt of the sea woven into their
fbers took the place of more conven-
tional hangings. Mugs Of every size and
the most fanciful shapes, some Of them
very old, hung in line around the man
tel, each mirror for the cracking fire
below. Divans swathed in Turkish stuffs
jutted from. shadowy angles and held
palpitating CLEANS from hanging lamps
in their oriental, bespangled folds. His
bed had curtains of pale tapestry fra
grant as spice and looped up by spears.
It was screened by q leathery Indian mat
resembling the back of a huge turtle and
suspended by hooks from the ceiling.
Delatole had many sides to his charac-
ter. He was rake,'a parasite, but he
was also q genuine artist and loved his
work. He loved the somber dreams
which stole in Upon his solitude in this
old house, in this old street. They tipped
his pen with cabalistic power. When
the wind howled and the snow fell. the
drafty passages seemed trodden by
Rhostly feet, and fancy often crossed his
threshold, garbed in some luttering rag
Of the dead years. Sometimes he had
but to half shut his eyes, and looking
across his untidy desk to the limits Of
the spacious square beyond sec the roof
tops stretch away into q sun kissed des-
ert, and the hanging smoke become the
white tents of waiting army.
Yes, be loved the place, but IL must
70 and his life there be remembered as
. dream. On this November afternoon
while he waited for Tom he held in his
hand, which was trembling with rage, a
notice to leave these self same apart
ments or pay very large sum in very
short time. Curious that man should
prefer as tenant some commonplace
fellow with money instead of a brilliant
critic who made cigarette lighters Of
his dunning letters! A few oaths that
reduced creation to chaos, and few
puffs of acigarette cleared his brain. He
sat back to think.
So much money had gone at the gam
bling table; so much on the races; SO
much in speculation. And the result?
Enormous bills flowing in from every
quarter, chief among them an appalling
array Of figures for more than a years
rent
There's not hole or corner where I
can borrow third of it." he exclaimed
impatiently, and tightening the girdle Of
the eastern robe Unfolding his slight figure
he strolled to the window, and through
the tangle Of bare branches looked across
at the sHewy grass Plets of Washington
square.
BE scarcely moved for many minutes
Was there nothing he could do? Nothing?
One plan after another was dismissed as
impracticable until his eyes fell upon
Tom coming across the park, the orange
light streaming from the west behind
him, making a moving silhouette Of his
vigorous figure.
Delatole's eyes became inscrutable, the
smoke wreaths curled furiously around
his head, and he caressed his lip with the
point of his tongue, as if he had literally
tasted palatable thought.
'You fool! Why didn't you think Of
him beforey' he said aloud and burst out
laughing.
When the sedate English valet, who
had almos. forgotten the look of Ameri-
can money, opened the door for Tom,
his host sirolled from the window with
hands outstretched.
.sOnly hall an hour Iate!" he said air.
lly in his drawing voice. mot bad for
new celebrity. Did you see The Chal-
Ienge this mornings Good-wasn't itP
Here, read this"
He picked mp some loosely scattered
pages covered with his delicate, cramped
writing and pushed them into Toms
bands.
This will be in on Thursday morn
ing. You see. it's minute review OF
fhe play. Ycucertainly can't complain"
Tom carried them TO the window and
turned os1e rrstling page after another.
Glorious words were these--magnetic,
Intense. And how true!--how marvel
ously true! His own intimate struggles
IA writing The play had been OWNED by
IL. I<c~. ,<sff<ol ,,vxsIoxof a !, i,pu 20 fba
writer. The lines flowed delicately. sub
ely, and were sweet as incense. They
ehrobbed In his brain; his eyes lightened.
Il had not hoped for this" he said.
with gketefpl glance as he came back
ssths Z e xb'ls s!0xly drawing Of his