Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1897-04-07
THREE PICTURES.

Madonna, exclaimed Wallace Omer.
He had paused involuntarily, his
eyes fixed upon the little cottage
which faced the sea. | stopped also
and looked in the same direction. A
young girl was leaning upon the low,
white gate. The crimson glow from
the setting sun, which lay upon land
and sea, lighted up the soft masses
of her pale gold hair until it shone
like an aureole about her head. She
had the trre of face that great paint
ers have given to their saints, their
angels, their Madonnas. The beauti-
ful dark-blue eyes had the innocence
of child, the utter Inconsistencies
of the woman who knows naught OF
love, of passion, whom the breath Of
evil, of sin, has never touched.
HWho is she, Omer" / asked, as we
passed on along the beach. 4 never
saw sweeter, lovelier face"
u Nor so pure and innocent and un-
conscious face on woman" said
Omer, with his cool, cynical laugh.
n do not know who she is, but | in
tend to know. Unjust have that face
for my Madonna; or, perhaps, for
another picture which have had in
my mind for some time. That girls
face is what I have been looking for
this long while"
i He tossed away his cigar and stood
looking over the crimson sea. |
looked at his face, ca beautiful face
that woman loved" and at his splen-
did physique. I thought Of his genius,
which easily won him fame, and that
exceedingly desirable auxiliary to
fame, money. Surely Wallace Omer
was favorite Of the gods.
4 strong friendship existed be-
tween Omer and myself, but [ never
Tas quite able to fathom the mans
nature. He had summer studio at
Nallant, and ran up there frequent
~ during the summer to spends few
DAYS with him.
The next morning I returned to
Boston, and it was some weeks before
] again visited Omer. The evening
nj my arrival, as we sat smoking upon
The porch after dinner, I said:
IIave you seen anything more Of
she girl with the Madonna face~
Oh yes" replied Omer, carelessly,
- great deal Of her. She is sitting
an me for the picture Of which I spoke
10 yol"
w no is she?" I asked.
A'DIa, she isn't a person of any very
great importance-this girl with the
Faye Of an angel said Omer, lightly.
Her name is Louise Burnham; she
lives in Cambridge with her father,
WHO is a physician. They are here for
Tire summer. managed an introduc-
-f1on TO DR. Durham, and the rest was
easy
WELL" said, somewhat gravely,
tive girl has, as you say, the face of
IVA angel; take care that you do not
sescll her that she has the heart of
xoEsan In that case you would lose
zzaa model for which you have been
searching so long"
a9mer smiled; he made no reply,
ssut saw his face grow thoughtful.
The next day [ received telegram
Eummoning me to New York. Upon
my arrival there | found that import
ant business matters would necessi-
.1zse my going abroad. A week later
2 sailed It was a year or more be-
lore 1 returned. In the cafe Of the
Hoffman house the day following my
SzTIsai ran across an acquaintance,
3 former Bostonian, now living in
New York.
By the way, Radcliffe" he said, in
7lae course of conversation, chose
three pictures Of Omer's have created
a9rBre. That was rather unique
afzea of his. You have seen the pic
ssnEcr, of course"
80" / replied, ri have not seen
sfaz1Hn; 1 only returned from abroad
yesterday. Where are the pictures
sex1libited?s"
AT the Academy of Design; the
annIsai exhibition is going on there,
you know. Omer's pictures have
made the hit of the season"
Some men came up just then and
EEe subject of the paintings was
arDpped Later on the same day |
started for the Academy Of Design.
J had no trouble in finding Omer's
gsrtlres They occupied a most
Yrpminent place, and a crowd Of fash
szssable women and men thfonged
xasoz4 them. After some little time
aszd efficiently I succeeded in reaching
nj ,0siition which afforded good view