The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-02-29

WOulo WOuuo mum PiOuo oPiiie'
The two had been friends from child
hood, though Mrs. Wynn was three
years the senior, and since the acct
dent and succeeding illness which
had left Ruth a cripple for life the
friendship had become more firmly
cemented. Ruth, on her part, shrank
from the curiosity of strangers and
chance acquaintance, and chung with
tenacious memory to thepast and her
old friends; while Mrs. Wynn, griev-
ing over the providence which had
Swallowed the young life, sought by
loving, thoughtful attentions to
brighten it all she could.
$50 you see l am not rebellious, -
Ruth went back to her first assertion
"neither am l a new woman-what-
ever that means. l am only restless
and uneasy. l long for something
to do, not only for myself, but for
others. I may live to be an old lady,
and it is not pleasant to think of be.
ing forever useless and dependent
Besides, if-anything- should hap
pen, should become an object Of
charity, without being able to do the
first thing to support myself"
81 see," assented Mrs. Wynn,
though l never thought of it before.
1 am sure with all your talents, you
can find something to do. You paint
beautifully"
ooh, l am no true artist, though l
enjoy my painting" interposed Ruth.
I cannot create, I can only copy. 1
used to dream of some day becoming
famous and painting wonderful pict-
ures, but I realize now that my crude
work would lily compare with the
productions of other artists"
"You are too modest by halfp'
cried her friend. MADAM 2. used
to say that not one in the studio had
80 correct an eye for color as you,
nor could compete with you in finish
ing a picture"
"Those things, however, do not
make an artist" persisted Ruth.
''My pictures please my friends and
1 enjoy painting them, but there is
no money in them, Alice, say what
you will"
"Try writing, then. Your letters
are better than half the trash that
gets into print.
Again Ruth shook her head. "The
literary world is already flooded with
mediocrity. Only those who have a
genius for it should ever write"
"'Tis pity more were not of your
opinion" said Mrs. Wynn, drily.
"How about fine needlework and en-
broidery, then, seeing you persist in
denying yourself any other genius?
That Honiton lace you gave me last
Christmas was
"Dear to you because l made it,"
Ruth finished the sentence for her.
"Others can do as well or far better.
No, Alice, you haven't discovered the
right thing yet. I don't know my
self what it is, but l am sure the Lord
will give me something to do when
the right time comes, SO I'll try to
wait more patiently"
Just then their retreat was invaded
by Kitty and some friends who were
visiting her, and condolences ceased.
Ruth lay back among the cushions
of her couch and closed her eyes.
She was getting used to her younger
sisters taking the lead in everything;
still the senseless chatter about her
was tiresome, and when, a little later,
Mrs. Wynn arose to go, she gladly
followed her to the door.
Keep up good heart, Ruth" whis-
pered Mrs. Wynn, rebellious little
sob rising in her throat as she heard
the click, click, of the crutch by her
side.
ooh, l do" Ruth said. smiling
brightly, II don't complain to any
one but you; no one else knows of
my restless ambition"
"Thank you for your confidence,
dear" and Mrs. Wynn pressed warm
kiss on the pale cheek. 81 am stupid
about seeing into things, but now l
know your need I'll keep my eyes
open"
81 wonder she keeps as cheerful as
she does, with every one making her
feel her uselessness," she thought, as
she walked slowly homeward, an
anxious expression clouding her usu-
ally sunny face. "The Lord sustains
her ever day, or she could not endure
it. Something must be found to
take up her mind il l move heaven
and earth to do il"
But in less than an hour telegram
from her husband summoned her to
meet him at Washington, and there