The evening tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 189?-190?, 1897-05-04

derstarding may, some thought OF wnat
am and why / ami Your souls desire
shall have fulflllment--oncc, and once
only" She paused and looked for a mo-
ment in silence at the man who knelt be-
fore her. "And than
He did not speak. He bowed his head
and let his clasped hands fall between his
knees.
My aid In yours-yours must be mine.
1t has been said II may find one human
soul that all unsought shall elect to go
down the aons with me, shall cast away
all higher things even as once cast them
away, shall cling to me, seeking nothing
higher. and understanding my need, chat
soul shall be truly mine, beyond hope OF
redemption, even as am beyond 1t. Are
you contentS"
The man glanced up once and then bow
cd his head again. In low whisper
caught the words, 81 am content"
No other word was spoken, the fire died
and fell with little rattle of ashes upon
the hearth; the wind shrieked outside and
tore madly at the windows. And the fig
ure was gone. The room was In total dark
ness; there was no sound other than the
bowling Of the wind, save the ticking OF
the little clock on the mantelshelf. Shak-
ing from head to foot, / stumbled to the
door and threw 1t open. The light that
strcamed in from the landing outside
showed Bernard, lying prone upon his face
and quite still.
1 got light and raised him up, and
sprinkled water on his face, and he gradu
ally recovered. For long time, while he
sat in his chair, gripping its wooden arm
tightly, and staring straight at me, neither
IF nEn or II tpia m Ian nj
the laugh would not come.
"What tricks have you sprung upon me?
What mesmeric business Is thisS" said
In voice tried vainly to steady.
"You doubling fool!" he breathed with
scorn. "You saw and heard eyerything
you know-in your heart you know and
yet you can say tbatp How like the world.
But the promise has been given. shall
conquer shall stand out beyond all
men-once and once only. But that Is
enough And after that He raised his
eyes and smiled.
left him presently and crept down
stairs to my own rooms. doubling, yet be-
lieving, perplexed by thousand shadowy
fears
Thereafter saw but little of Bernard
Green He was more strange and preoc
cupied than ever; he worked necessarily,
worked all day till the light failed in the
late afternoon, and he worked with the
door of the studio locked. In answer to
my questioning, he merely told me, with
quiet smile of triumph, that he had COM
menced new picture; should see it COM
pleted.
He came to my room one afternoon and
told mo in u low voice that the picture was
Finished then, without further word, he
walked out again, and followed him ST.
lently, with u curious quickening of my
pulses as l went up stairs. Inside the
room, he flung back the covering from the
canvas and stood aside, looking at me with
that strange smile had seen so often dur
ing that later time.
All the world knows that picture now.
Earnest and ambitious men have stood be-
fore it and sighed in utter hopelessness OF
ever attaining it's level, OF even of reach
ing any adjacent plane. The picture was
exhibited that year. 1t set the artistic
world ablaze. 1t flung Bernard Green in.
to the very forefront and placed him on a
pinnacle apart from all others. Men asked
where this wondrous mag gician of the brush
had been hiding. The man only smiled
and waited.
In the flush Of his SUCCESS it happened
one evening that we again sat together in
his studio / remember that it was Il still
evening in summer, an evening almost
windless. Suddenly wind seemed to
burst on the house, dashing through the
open windows, catching the long curtains
and whirling them, futtering, ghostlike,
against the ceiling. Bernard started up
and waved me back with nervous hand.
Trembling fell back within the shadow
Of the wall. 1 saw his proflc-thin, eager,
baggard--outlined against the window
In an instant the figure was again with
in the room--standing on the spot where
ii had stood before. But it came in no
somber guise of gray vestments now. 1t
stood erect, triumphant, in wondrous
robe of dead, heavy gold color-a robe that
outlined the splendid, womanly figure, and
seemed a part of the atmosphere that en-
yeloped it. The haunting musical ten
derness Of the voice that was like no earthly
voice broke the stiffness; the wind had
died down; all things, animate and imam
innate, seemed to listen.
My aid has been given. Beyond all
men your fame shines forth. Now i claim
the soul you were content to give. Even
as you have believed, believe still; even rs
you have worshiped, worship on through
all ages. There is no place for you in all
through all the mighty, endless night of
time we wander-you and L together
damned and lost.
He moved nearer to her. A strange
smile-half of divinest pity, half Of human
tcnderness-broke through the splendid
WEAKNESS Of her eyes. i saw the white
arms stretch out to him-saw him drawn
within the radiance that surrounded her,
saw his face shining, transformed, near
her own. With cry l started forward
and fell swOoning. When recovered, tho
room wns in darkness, while there was no
sound but the heavy beat Of the little clock
on the mantelshelf. Bernard Green lay
beneath the window, quite still. When |
ventured near at last and, muttering his
name, turned over the useless clay, 1 was
convinced of what 1 had known before.
He was dead Black and White.