Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1893-08-31

his own artistic soul, the spirit of true
life, unfettered with the contractions
and ceremonies of conventionality,
life high and wide, like the blue Scan
dinavian heaven above he saw all this,
he felt the inspiration of this continual
contact with nature, and yet he did not
tell her that his whole heart was hers,
because of the elder brother across the
sea, who would have deemed it an un-
changeable blot upon many genera
tons of financial prosperity, that the
sole sharer with himself of many Ameri-
can dollars should marry Morse peas
ant girl.
Finally the picture was completed.
There was the wide ford stretching out
to the ocean with silence and solitude
on its waves, which caught the blood
red reflections of an angry sky. There
was not vessel in sight, and SO well
had the artist caught the spirit of the
scene that the slow, majestic sweep of
the heaving rollers seemed to die out
without breaking, and to give place to
others, and against the gathering dark
ness the exquisite slenderness of wo-
mans figure stood clear cut upon the
canvas. She wore white skirt and
white bodice, the dainty sleeves re-
vealing more than half of the round,
dimpled arms, which hung down and
were clasped in front of her; from the
white cap upon her head the great
braids of pale-gold hair extended be-
low the waist line; the eyes, which
were of the purple blueness of water of
great depth, looked outward over the
waves, and the whole face expressed
subdued force and sweet seriousness.
1t was the portrait of woman whose
heart knew not yet the thrill of love,
but had experienced the sadness of
some underlined longing.
1t was matchless picture, master
piece of the artists power and as he
mixed his colors and labored over it,
but one name seemed suitable to the
Anne rican as he thought of Gerda. so
pure, SO fresh, go cold !" he had said
to himself; and when old Liof Thure
first saw the painting and read the
name of "The Frost Lily" he was
quick to grasp its significance and to
realize what had prompted the stranger
in his house to call the gem of his
Morse collection by the name of the
most priced and the most unattaina-
BILE of the Scandinavian fora.
'It dies when they take it from the
bitten waters of its mountain
tarns," thought the old man sadly.
'Does he think to take her away from
me to the country across the waters?
The child would die in those great
cities?"
But he was wise in his way and said
nothing, although he could have
chosen for his Gerda one of the
white skinned, serpent-eyed North
men of her own race. Brown ewes
and hair and beard did not accord
with the Scandinavian ideas of free
dom and manliness.
When every detail of the picture
had been made as perfect as brush and
colors and the critical taste of the
artist could render it, the American
packed up his palettes and canvases,
and bade good-by to the snug farm
house where he had eaten and slept
and worked for so many months
When he said farewell to Gerda, it was
in the presence of her father and
brothers; there was close quick
pressure of the hand, and he had
| jumped into the sledge which was
waiting to speed him over the frozen
snow away from his love to the near
est station of the continental trains.
That was nearly y half a year ago and
through all the long months tidings
had come from him but once, when
he had sent great medal of gold
which the picture had taken in some
famous exhibition, with the words,
"Gerda, in remembrance of Ralph!"
And it was upon all this that Gerda
was thinking, this anniversary of their
meeting, as she strayed aimlessly upon
the mountain side, and listened to the
merry voices singing upon the ford
below, OF the rush of some mountain
stream not far from her feet.
She paused moment, and looking
downward, taking off her cap and
pushing back the rebellious locks of
thick, soft hair with which the breeze
loved to play upon her temples. 1t
was quarter to ten, and only half
darkness; there was sweet, fresh
smell of fir and pine wood, and whifls
from the drying hay in the air, while
the moon had risen, outlining the
mountain shades in deep violet and
black the colored lights, red and
white and green, which the villagers
were burning cleaned in the soft
dusk.
As Gerda turned to descend the
side, a little boat darted out from the
shadows of the ford, and rowed swift
lly through the long path of silver
light v r'ch the moon rays threw upon
the warers. The road down the noun
tain SO wound about it at intervals it
commanded view of the ford, so
Gerda saw the boat near the shore as
she herself approached the valley. To
the rover she paid little heed, simply
noting that he wore the holiday cos
tune of the Morse peasant, in scarlet