Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1895-07-11

it ! will tell you about it, and-oh,
Horace, hope you will think did
right" There was little catch in her
voice that made him serious at once. y
"Of course you have done right he
said, turning and putting his arm
around her; land if all the critics on
both sides OF the ocean should say:
Mrs. Hubbard, you have made the
mistake of your life in not purchasing
that hay rick in the twilight by CAIN
my opinion only of the critics would be
lowered, my dear"
! You are always such comfort"
she said, gratefully. Wiping off with
the back Of her jeweled little hand
tear that had trickled out of one eye,
she scratched her cheek with the sharp
end OF diamond and turquoise ring,
and stopped their exit to ask her hus-
band IT it had left a mark. Then they
went down to the den in the front
basement, while Hubbard wondered
secretly why the new treasure had
been put in that sequestered spot.
It was very inviting room, made
gay by some gas logs at a moments
notice; with chairs to lounge in, and
two or three divans covered with soft
toned rugs and luxurious with all the
down silk pillows that were not quite
smart enough for the freshly done-over
drawing-room and had taken on
pleasing pliancy from use.
Books of all descriptions crowded
several plain Chippendale cases-es-
says, histories, poems. books on science,
on philosophy and novels; not the rare
editions that were kept in state in the
library proper, but the books they
loaned to intimate friends, and marked
if they liked, and doubled over and read
without covers.
A large round table in the middle of
the room was conferred by generous
lamp, joy to read by, and upon it
still more books-the latest arrival
magazines, and tobacco in every form.
At one side of the room was rack of
pipes with the names of a few choice
spirits written thereon and ready for
them whenever they should come.
On the walls, which were something
between cream and pink in tone,
hung motley array Of pictures,
water-colors, etchings, prints and
photographs; for every one of them, for
one reason or another, they had q
special fondness
In front of the close white sash
curtains at the windows were other
straight heavy curtains of gray satin
with a charming border of pinkish
flowers on gold ground. These
curtains were among Mrs. Hubbard's
earliest collections of her childhood's
home; she had chung to them through
years of plushes, Turkish mixtures
and brocades, while they seemed to
repay her regard by keeping mar
velous silvery sheen to the end of
their usefulness.
Nothing had ever been bought
purposely for this room; like the
curtains, everything seemed to have
drifted there, and whatever was
found to add to its comfort stayed.
like the friends that were once adj
mitted. Upon an easel, Mans own
working one, rested the new Inness,
easily the most striking bit of color in
the room, and carefully placed for
good light.
Here it is: do you like it?"
Mr.. Hubbard was ever slow in ex-
pressing an opinion, but slow too in
changing it, so this had its advan ia
| geous side. Nan waited impatiently for
him to speak.
Don't you like it," she cried, be-
ginning to be hurt.
1t was a picture of about sixteen by
twenty-four, which gave the impress
sion of a perfect June day-the fore
ground of green meadow land, broken
a little to one side by a brook, dark
mass of the artists living trees at the
back, and overhead deep-blue breezy
| sky.
1t was delightful in color, done in
rather low key for an Inness, and to
artist and laymen alike bringing near
the joy of a beautiful stretch of coun-
try one day like those we remember.
Eyes, like it," he said, decidedly.
"And now are you quite ready to tell
Inc why you changed your mind?" But
she was not ready even then, until Ed
ward had placed the coffee on a low
I table between their two casy-chairs,
and Hubbard's cigar was lighted.
II noticed the picture the first day
went to see the collection" she began;
'but was so in love with the Cain
suppose did not say anything about
it. The last morning before the sale
went down once more. I was there so
early there was scarcely anyone in the
rooms, and wandered about as happy
as I could be, with you away, OF
course" Hubbard raised his eyebrows
skeptically, and she went on: Among
the few people there, though, noticed
an old man had seen at so many 9TH
er exhibitions that ! never could tell
whether I had really ever met him or
just thought l knew him from having
seen him so often.
''He was very shabby, but clean; q
big man, with rather heavy features
and perfectly white hair, and he kept
up nervous bobbing of his head all
the time, but seemed to be unconscious
of it, / had often wondered who he
was, and somehow or other always as
ISOLATED him with my father, though l
did not know why. He seemed to know
good deal about pictures, always
picking out two or three of the best to
hover around, and thought that he
might be dealer, except that he
looked too poor. He interested me SO
much that had often been tempted to
speak to him; you see, have not quite
got over the Bohemian tendencies
used to indulge when | painted instead
Of buying pictures"
''When you painted what, Nan"'
'Canvasses, of course; you don't sup
4 pose ever thought painted a picture,
do you? But don't interrupt
''That morning I was watching my
old friend, specializing about him as
usual, when I noticed him suddenly
discover that"-she waved her hand to-
ward the Inness-'' and the poor old fell
low looked as if he had been struck by
some one. He sat down on the bench
nearest it, his white head shaking
more than ever, and rubbed his hands
piteously together. I could not stand