The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1894-06-20
CHAPTER XIII.
AFFAIRS OF THE HEART.

AS Win pretty Ellen MaXey, so with
the others. The end seemed to have been
reached.
When Mr. Dye stalked out of the art
lists rooms and the shiny surface of his
woebegone coat had vanished from Max
ey's sight, it seemed as if every ray of
light that tended to illuminate the dou-
Bile mystery, to solve which Maxey had
stopped to subterfuge had vanished
too
Here at last the good artist and the
other acute Investigators reached dead
wall. Here every thread was broken.
Here to all appearances the matter came
to a hopeless termination. The several
actors in the drama settled down to the
more ordinary happenings of daily life.
New matters quite as absorbing, how
ever removed from the terrible, claimed
their attention. The more vivid scnsa-
tions of today gradually Obscured the
less vivid sensations of yesterday. They
did not forget but they ceased to talk
about the fateful night on the sea road
and all that grew out Of it.
Lamar was unhappy. He was q fire.
quent visitor at the artists rooms even
now, when there was no longer any need
of his professional services. He seemed
to come there in his leisure moments as
refuge from himself He was the most
cheerful and witty of society, but the
smile died on his lips when he crossed
the threshold on his way out. 1t was as
If shadow fell upon him everywhere
but here, as if the sun shone in only at
the windows above the river, and all the
rest Of tho world were dark.
Did Lamar know why this was? In q
vague way perhaps, but he surely did
not acknowledge it to himself and still
preserve his relations with the Widow
Forsythe and still come here. No; Lamar
was not a man of that stamp. The day
he really found himself out, that day
would his visits cease.
As for the poor girl without name,
she gradually became natural and nee
essary part Of the artists home circle.
The time calne when the face wore ev-
cry day asmile, and somehow that smile
opened q world Of light and beauty in
the place. In her art lessons she was
making wonderful progress. The day
that the knock at the outer door had
startled teacher and pupil into a con-
sciousness Of how very close to each 9TH
er their heads had come was scarcely
the first and it was certainly not the
last on which the phenomenon occurred.
Such q very apt pupil was the girl with
out name, so devoted to art so very
earnest a teacher was Julian Maxey, so
delighted with her achievements, that
these little episodes were scarcely to be
wondered at. But, however much tho
familiarity Of daily association might
bring these two together, there was still
barrier to mutual understanding, for
poor Miss Dye remained at heart the
same shy, timid creature that she had
appeared at first. She became easy and
natural and smiled because her sur
roundings were bright and she was
young, but there were a native delicacy
and sensitiveness that betrayed them
selves through all.
Neither was she wholly happy. When
she thought herself alone, there We're
times when she sat with her head upon
her hand, looking out over the lonesome
river to the hills that made the back
ground, and when she was sitting thus
if she smiled at all it was through her
tears. There was one thing that trou-
bled her much. 1t was the sense of de-
pendence and obligation. She could not
feel satisfied to share in a prosperity to
which she did not materially contribute.
1t was this that held her to an untiring
attention and studiousness in her new
occupation. She hoped to earn liveli-
hood with her pencil, and the enthusi-
stic Maxey, who partly realized what
ner feelings We're, encouraged her in
that hope. 1t is easy to make progress in
work one loves. Before she had been
under his tuition month Maxey told
Dr.. Lamar that her copies in crayon and
charcoal were something marvellous for
one whose instruction had been so limit
ed. Maxey undertook to paint her'face,
and she retaliated by making pencil
sketch Of his features which was won
derfully accurate. And so tho days were
spent.
One morning Maxey awoke to q real
izing sense Of his situation. He loved.
And why not? Was she not beautiful,
intelligent, refined, virtuous2 Was she
not in verify woman of all women,
such as man might be proud to be able
to introduce to his friends as "my wife?"
Was she any the less adorable because
nobody knew the name Of her father?
Was the fact that she was nameless a
barrier Of feathers weight Not to
man like Maxoy.
But yet he hesitated. With all his
impetuosity and impatience he was ac-
customed to count the cost of momen-
tous step before he took it, and the al
ternatives presented to him were pain
ful. He had learned something Of An
nette's character. To place himself in
the position Of suitor from any reason
unacceptable to her was equivalent to
driving friendless girl from the only
home she had ever known. Not to place
himself in the position of o suitor was
never to know his own fate. When a
young man is burning with the intoxi-
cation of first great passion, this last
Is not possible.
So Maxey thought he would wait,
and wait he did until he was brought
to sudden resolution in the matter in
an unlocked for and extraordinary way.
One afternoon when the artist was
alone with his sister Ellen she intro
duced a grave topic. Nevertheless she
tried to make her remark seem casual
one.
Julian, do you know how DR.. La
mar came to be engaged?"
Maxey looked at her with apprehen-
sion. He hesitated a little before he
moda hie renlv