Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1896-02-12

bue Suu WdS sLp p!huS uS-duu tuo biuy
court, with its patch of dusty grass,
where here and there q persevering
dandelion held aloit its golden POM
pom, was pleasanter to look on than
the dreary alleys into which the other
cellar windows looked.
But when the sun was hi den, and
the rain came down with its monoton-
Gus drip, drip, from the sides of the
high bri1k wall that surrounded the
little court, then the cellar seemed
very DIRK and very far away from
HEAVIER, indeed; and the young painter
was forced to come very near to the
south window, which was his only win
dow- and often, to hold his sketch close
to the rain-swept window panes in or
der to work at all. And on these days
he Ras not hopeful; for his dark eyes
caught shadows of the sky without ;
his soul refused to dream those dreams
OF sunlit Spain for which the canvas
waited, and only his homesick heart
ached with longing for them.
And Parquarette disliked the rainy
days as we'll. For when they came
she could not sit on the rickety old
fight of stairs, which, just outside the
painters door, led up to the garret
where she lived and on whose creak-
ing steps she sat, on sunny days, like
very plump angel on very uncer-
tain Jacobs ladder, to watch, un-
noticed, che painter at his work.
Parquarette was four, and herself q
picture. Her round little face had
not lost. its innocent babyishuess, nor
her blue eyes their touching trustful-
ness; just as her plump hands still
held their baby dimples. A sun5urnt
little face it was, for Parquarette
could never remember to keep the
high-crowned sunbonnet securely tied
under her chin US it was put, and in
an exciting moment it was sure to be
pushed far back, until it hung on her
shoulders, swinging on to the fat neck
by the strings relentlessly knotted in
front, and leaving the pretty head C!
FURNISHED, brownish curls free to the
sun and dir. And many exciting mo-
ments had she and the sunbonnet ex'
perienced since the painter came tc
live in the cellar.
He was not a person to attract 6
child, for his mouth was grave, almost
severe; he rarely spoke or smiled, and
his dark eyes were sad, save when they
flashed ominously at times.
But he was at work on o great pic
ture--a glimpse of Spain-and to the
lonely child, who, when her mother
went out to work in the morning, was
left for long day to herself, who had
few toys and no companions, this pic.
ture, which grew in beauty every day,
was as a priceless treasure--a never
failing Joy. Hour after hour she sat
with hands folded in her lap, not NOV.
ing, scarce daring to breath. lest he,
this magician who held on his thumb
the strange board with its wonderful
dashes of color, should look up, see
her there and send her away.
she had kept her silent watch all
through the making of the long gray
wall that overlooked the deep blue
bay had even watched in silence q
vine climbing slowly up the crumbling
stones and blossom into scarlet flow
er; and when the artist traced lion
in the stone, above the glowing
blooms-painted 1t out-and in again
and out once more with one reckless
sweep, throwing the brush far from
him, with fierce word Kissing be.
tween his teeth, she trembled to the
tips of her small bare toes; flung back
the bonnet from her flushing cheeks,
and leaned forward so far that she
seemed poised upon the very edge of
the 6usty step, like timid bird ready
for fight.
He was striding up and down his
brick-paved kingdom, muttering to
himself:
"RutI I will have himl Yes, I will
have himl The moment is not yet my
own, but it will come. The picture
shall be perfect. 1t shall be to her not
a picture-but realization, living
hour! She shall not forget! She
shall not be another's!"
He stopped and picked up the brush
from the corner where it lay, and,
wiping off the sand it had collected,
came back to his work with quick
impetaosity of resolve.
With steady hand he sketched the
lion in again, he painted on with free,
quick strokes, and in an hour per.
feet reproduction was his, Of the splen.
did form that guarded the wall in the
shadow of the old Spanish fort.
CHA, hal my beauty, ha, hal" he
laughed, with last caress of tone and
touch, "[ have youl"
''Yes, you've got biml" came in
measured tones of complacent convic-
tion from the window behind him.
He turned, and beheld his en-.
thusiastic audience literally swept of
its feet; for Paquarette, by aid of the
rain tub, had reached his window sill,
and, forgetting her fears, knelt upon
it, leaning anxiously forward on hel
outspread hands, her wide'open eyes
glowing with excitement.
"When did you see him last, my
little one?" he asked, smiling oddly.
The smile lighted his face in way
that was very pleasant, and Paquar'
cite, gazing up into it, felt satisfied.
"Just before you rubbed him out
the last time," she answered, gravely.
"And," smiling more and more,
edo you like him better now?"
"Yes," said the child. "You said
you'd have him, and you have him. y
"How long have you been herep
he questioned, suddenly.
"Oh, every dayl I SIT on the steps,
so 1 can see the picture. And I sit
still, SOS not to make noise. I will
go back!" And she began to craw.
slowly backward, supporting hel
weight on her chubby fists.
9e leaned forward, and catching