The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1894-11-22
DEVOTION"

Among the pictures which commanded
the greatest attention at the Worlds fair
was one which viii be remem bered by its
solitary title, Devotion. - The picture
was that of a young woman lying full
length on the floor of a bare rOom-a
slim, extended figure, lifeless with pallid
face and one barred arm, from which a
small stream OF blood was trickling
Above her head was the angelic face Of q
child, painted on the canvas like an art
lists proof, and the close observer could
not fail to see that the two faces were
those Of mother and child. An old stove,
a bed and a couple of chairs completed the
picture.
.'Estelle, I have called you twice. 7
am dying of thirst
Yes. Harlow, 1 am coming. II was
thinking But, my dear one there is
nothing for you to drink. The lemons are
gone and the vine And the money"
there is none, not a penny left. We have
nothing now that we can sell for food. "
There, that will do. If you have moth
ing better to tell me, do not speak So
very6hing IS gone, and we will come
upon the town at last9'
No Harlow, not that The lady that
is SO i'll, that proposed to give you an or
der for a little picture, may be better and
be able to see me. am going there this
moment and will soon be back. If / get
the money, you viii have everything to
a picture. =
What were you doing to make your
eyes SO red, EstelleS"
She did not answer him. He caught
her roughly and jerked her round. She
looked at him with divine, girlish smile
that held the hint of breaking heart
i was thinking of little Earle -
Always of him. but never Of me
am tired Of being neglected for a baby.
Besides he does not need you"
mo, - she said pitifully, looking at a
face sketched on the rough boards Of the
wall-a child's face, angelic in its express
sion-.'that makes 1t SO much the harder
dear
Crying again, always crying. Why
not go, if you must, and see how much
longer we have to live? Curse this fever,
which chains me to chair like a bedrid-
den woman My mouth is parched with
thirst l am starving for a draft of wine =
Estelle had put on her slender figure a
meager shawl and a cheap hat but these
poveruies of her toilet could not disguise
her beauty. A frown drew her husbands
dark brows together as he looked at her
ungraciously.
''You will not go near a studio?v
''Have ever deceived you, HarlowS'
Il don t know. I would kill you if you
did. You know what I mean-befOre
you should be model for any of those
fellows"
He was an artist and had married his
model His jealousy was as cruel as the
grave, but Estelle lived only to please
him. Yet he tortured himself with specu-
lations if she was out of his sight a mo-
ment and compelled her to give literal
account of everything she did or said
She was gone a long time His thirst
consumed him, and the demon of i'll tenn
per tortured him with jealousy. What
was keeping her? Estelle had never left
him as long as this. Perhaps some dread
full accident had happened to her. AID
since they had no friends there would be
none to run and tell him the unwelcomo
news His heart softened to her, his girl
wife, the mother of his dead child and o
beautiful in her Iaeager, scrimped lifS
that he commanded her to veil her faco
when she went out alone
The evening passed into midnight Tho
fever burned IN the sick man 5 veins, and
the thirst consumed him, but he dragged
himself from the window to the cha r
from the chair TO the window, and when
it was the chill white light of morning
she came, walking in softly like a spin lt.
whittier herself than the petals of a lily.
Something was clinched in her right
hand. She staggered feebIy as she walked
and extended her closed hand to her hus-
band He struck it savagely with impo-
tent force as he saw it held in the tightly
closed fingers a great roll of money Then
she fell at his feet, limp and inert, her
eyes, humid with pain and love, fixed on
bis angry face.
She was a model, y they said when they
found her lying dead a his feet and the
picture painted by the mad artist on the
same wall where he had sketched hat di-
vine head of the child The dullest of the /
gaping crowd saw that it was a great J
work of art and an exact reproduction of !
he scene before them He was mad, and /
before he was taken away he was permit I
ed to copy the picture on canvas.
She was my model, . he said, and with I
he faulty of madness he named the pic {
'ure Devotion. Detroit Free Press