The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1897-07-08
A WOMAN'S HEART.
,By Carl Baily Hurst.l

The driving rain forbade our tax
ing walk, 50 we sat in the studio
and smoked. The storm had come
suddenly, and it was late in the after
noon. From the window-scat where
l lay could look dowa on Broadway
and see the crowd of clerks and shop
girls hurrying up town. The noise OF
wagons and street cars, the babbie OF
voices, and the beating of footsteps Oh
wet pavements were balne h1tleeGbly
to the third story of tie OLD buiiding
which has stood for thirty years on q
corner below Union Square. 1t is an
old rookery, with rooms for artists and
whosoever else will live in small
quarters and not object TO the odor OF
cooking waited at all times irom the
gas-stoves of ones neiGhbo:s. rne
man in whose lodgings l was Tor the
first time had lived there FOR olei
twenty years. He told me nothing
could make him leave. He had be-
come attached to the shaky stairs, the
worn thresholds, and the dusty walls.
It was here he had fought tor fame
and had lost the battle; yet he would
not remove.
We talked of a number of things
Of art, of the ignorance of critics, Of
the capriciOusness of fate-wheu l 10.
ticed my friend was not listening 10
me, but to some sound without.
stopped and heard a woman walking
down the hall. She went to the door
opposite my friend KS lodgings, and
after fumbling with the lock a few sec.
onds, opened the door and entered.
X. did not move. He only turned his
eyes toward me, still listening; but
hearing nothing more, he leaned back
in his chair, saying simply, 'Sle's
late"
I'm time for dinner, at any rate"
hazarded.
"She doesn't live here"
"Oh! Only paints during the day, Of
course"
shes not an artist; not even in a
dilettante way. She used to paint, ]
believe; but / do not think she has
had a brush in her hand for twenty
years
'"Twenty years|
For twenty years she has had
that room. None besides her has ever
entered, except the janitor once OF
twice to put in a few panes of glass
broken by the hail.
mind, isn't she?"
''As sane as you or |. I'll tell you
about her. It's the story of woman's
heart l do not believe two people be.
sides myself know why she has that
little studio, il, indeed, they are aware
she has it at all"
Then he was silent for a minute.
heard the noise Of the street, and fan
cied that heard woman moving In
the room across the way. The story
of woman's heart. mused-the
story Of wOman's heart. How many
q one thinks he knows it's depths or its
shallowness, but what man has ever
really fathOlned it? It's spring Of
water, thought. 1t reflects the clouds
and the sunshine. 1t varies with cir.
cumstances. There is nothing constant
in it. 1t smiles back brightly to the
man who has brought himself nearest
When he Is gone, with the same ease
and cheerfulness it mirrors his sue.
cessoy. A woman's heart, l laughed,
there is no constancy in it.
Listen" said X. Not long after ]
returned from my two years at Munich
i settled in the studio in which you
see me now. About the same time a
young man Of about my own age took
the one across the way. There was
more than passing acquaintance be.
tween us. We exchanged condolences,
and learned that wealthy woman,
somewhat older than he, stood to him
more or less as a patroness. There
was some understanding that when he
should become established they were
to marry. She was an ambitious per,
son, strong willed, and surmise, she
decided to fashion the beginners ca.
reer to suit herself. But she was not
sympathetic. His frequent discour.
agements she took as natural events
in any young mans career. But to him
the difficulties seemed enormous and
insuperable, and the sympathy he
craved he found elsewhere, In the
daughter of boarding house keeper al
whose establishment he took dinner
The patroness was frightfully incensed
when she learned Of the new intimacy
She stormcd, but he said nothing. The1
she cried bitterly, and begged him mo-
to throw his life away on woman
who had not the least thing In com
mon with him.
'The little drama stretched itsel
out for several months, until violen
quarrel separated for good the arts
AID his benefactress. The woman
wanted him to break his recent at
tachment. She became arbitrary an,