The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-11-22
DEVOTION"

~
t,.e orcatnst attention at the Worlds fair
was one which will be remembered by its
solitary title, Devotion" The picture
was that of young woman lying full
length on the floor Of hare roon--a
slim. extended figure, lifeless, with pnllid
face and one barred arm, from which
smaIl stream OF blood was trickling.
Above her head was the angelic face OF
child. painted on the canvas like an art
fists 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
:sFsteile, I have called you twice. i
am dying OF thirst
"Yes, Harlow, am coming. II was
thinking. But, my dear one, there Is
nothing for you TO drink. The lemons are
gone and the wine And the money
there is none, not penny left We have
nothing now that we can soil for food.
"There. that will do II you have moth
ing better TO tell me, do not speak. so
everything is gone, and we Will come
upon the town at lzstf"
.sNo. Harlow, not that The lady that
Is SO i'll. that proposed TO give you an or
der for little picture, may be better and
be able to see me. am going there this
moment and will soon be back. IL get
the money, you will have everything to
eat and drink and canvas and brushes for
picture"
what were you doing TO make your
eyes so red, Estellei"
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 a breaking heart.
II was thinking of little Earle"
ALWAYS of him, but never of me. i
am tired Of being neglected for baby.
Besides he does not need you"
.No," she said pitifully, looking at a
fnce 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 90. II you must, and see how much
longer we have 60 live? Curse this fever,
which chains me TO n chair like "a bedrid-
den woman. My mouth is parched with
thirst / am starving for draft OF wine. "
Estellc had put on her slender figure
meager shawl and n cheap hat, but these
poverties 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 studiof"
ssHaye ever deceived you, Harlowf"
''I don't know. i would kill you If you
did. You know what / mean-before
you should be a model for any OF those
fellows"
He was an artist and had married bis
model. His jealousy was as cruel as the
IN NIL
him. Yet he tortured himself with specu-
lations IL she was out of his sight mo-
ment and compelled her TO give a literal
account Of everything she id or said
She was gone long time. His thirst
consumed him, and tho demon Of i'll tenn
Der tortured him with jealousy. What
was keeping herr Estelle had never left
him as long as this. Perhaps some dread
ful accident had happened TO her, and
since they had no friends there would be
none to run and tell him the unwelcome
news. His heart softened to her, his girl
wife the mother Of his dead child, and SC
beautiful in her meager, scrimped life
that he commanded her to veil her face
when she went out alone.
The evening passed into midnight The
fever burned in the sick mans veins, and
the thirst consumed him, but he dragged
himself from the window to the chair,
from the chair to the window, and when
1t was the chill white light of morning
shs came, walking in softly like spirit,
whitev herself than the petals Of lily.
Something was clinched in her right
hand. She staggered feebly as she walked
and extended her closed hand TO her hus-
band He struck il sayagely with impo
tent force as he saw 10 held IL the tightly
closed fingers great roll of money. Then
she fell at his feet, limp and inert, her
eyes, humid with pain and love, fixed on
his angry face.
''She was a model" they said when they
found her lying dead at his feet and the
picture painted by the mad artist on the
same wall where he had sketched that di-
vine head Of the child. The dullest of the
gaping crowd saw that IL was a great
work Of art and an exact reproduction of
the scene before them. He was mad and
before he was taken away he was permit
ted to copy the picture on canvas.
"She was my Ilodel, he said, and with
the fstuity of madness he named the pic.
ture Devotion. "--Dotroit Free Press