Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1895-06-24

world she says.
Il am sure we have not; I should
have remembered. Mrs. Allyn tells me
you have made some character sketches
from one of my plays"
II made them from your photo
graphs. Would you like TO see them?"
May T."
IF you care 10 come tomorrow af-
ternoon | shall be pleased to show them
to you"
He puts her into the carriage with
her friends. and then stands for a mo-
ment locking after the brougham roll
ing down the white asphalted street.
'Wha, a glorious woman"
Janet Townsend's studio is a simple
place where artists may always be sure
of finding kindred souls on Friday af-
ternoon, where newspaper men and
publishers drop in and get ideas for
this or that. Pictures, draper!es, pot
ted plants, portfolios, and hundreds OF
sketches in black and white are all
about
Janet is talking to q we'll known
publisher about = cover design when
the star enters. She drops the piece OF
card and goes forward to greet him.
81 am SO glad you have come. The
welcome Is simple, but the flush on her
cheeks speaks more than words.
She shows him the sketches, eXqUis-
tie work from photographs in charac-
ter, and one by one as the day is draw
ing TO a close. the visitors drift out and
they are left alone.
A sort of embarrassment creeps over
both.
You have had a successful season."
VERY"
And you will come this way again?"
Il hope So" He looks up quickly.
She raises her eyes. He reaches out
his hands end takes one Of hers. Shall
7 see you when | come again? May |
hope that YOU will look for?'-His
voice has grown very tender and he Is
speaking hastily. Into her dark eyes
steals the old sweet wistfullness they
used TO wear and her lips ere trem-
bling. He notes all this and the tight
clasp on her hand llghtens.
His voice Is changed when he speaks
again.
u am glad ] met you, Miss Town
send. I shall always remember YOU"
He drops her hand "Adieu! She IS
not looking at him now. He raises her
chin with the tips of his fingers. God
bless your bonnie brown eyes-Janet.'
He speaks her name so softly that she
scarcely hears it, the curtains part and
fall between them end she IS standing
alone.
If she sinks into a chair and throws
her arms over the portfolio on the table
containing his pictures, there Is no one
there TO see.
Bohemia. world of heartaches and
partings, Of dead sea fruit, so beautiful,
so bitter, yet so sweet.
AT TWENTY-SEVEN.
There Is g cottage In the heart Of q
New England City, built long ago when
land was plenty and no one has ever
been able 10 encroach upon or narrow
down a single inch the generous
stretch of lawn and garden. 1t is a
long way from the street gate to the
wide yeranda. a grayelled wall leads
up between the wide stretches OF rich,
green grass. The front of the house is
covered with ampleopsis, that rugged
vine which beauties so many Eastern
nomes. At the right Of the house there
are pear trees loaded now with white
blossoms, tossing out on the wind their
rich peculiar perfume.
The moon. so sadly neglected by the
people OF cities. Is sailing overhead and
making the pear trees look like great
icebregs. The perfume OF the blossoms
has been intensified by the dew. From
one window there CLEANS a little light;
inside a sweet, blUe-eyed child is sleep
ing. while through the gate a man and
woman slowly stroll and come up the
gravelled walk together.
That play always impresses me
deeply What infinite understanding
that man puts into his part! The seri-
Gus face of the bread shouldered man
shows that he has indeed been deeply
impressed by the evenings perform
ance.
He has lost none Of his old-time art.
I saw him in the same character ten
years ago and he has not changed one
iota. made some sketches Of him then,
which afterward appeared in Walter
Bridgman's splendid work on Shakes
peare."
They have reached the yeranGa. LET
- sit out here for a while; 1t is so coon
and lovely
The man draws forward two deep
chairs and the woman removes her hat.
Her dress of creamy. white stuff, with
rich lace about her throat, sets of the
brilliant beauty OF face and the perfect
form. The hair is parted and drawn
plainly back in the latest mode, and
this Is Janet at twenty-seven, the wife
of a man who has numberless pictures
In the academy, whose name IS known
IN this and nearly every other country,
but a man as modest and unassuming
as man could be-
They have seen that same old play
tonight: the star who had almost ask
ed Janet to wait for his return, and
who probably had not thought of her
twice in all these years. had played that
same old splendid character and Janet
has sat and listened to him with the
lseenest enjoyment. She is not think
ing Of him now, however.
Il had a letter from home to-day,
she saws. "Dad writes that mother IS
not very well and wants me 10 come
down and bring Rachael. Don't you
want to 90. too. RObert?'
He thinks Of the picture that Is to ba
finished to hang on the line. You
n,usfn't tempt me, Janet, but you 90
snd take little Ray. 1t will do You both
good will take you down and bring
you back.
And YOU don't mind if am not here
IN meet the people from abroad, and
VIII YOU cancel our engagement with
the Murrays at the shore?
Hr-..nt,1,. nnrt we owe eVnrVthing