The Press., 1898-12-01

her friends that a severe cold kept her indoors, and she begged the housewife to accept the dress in remembrance of the kind hospitality she had received.
 This was indeed disappointment for .hese good people. What they had done for the artist had been done for friend ships sake. The gift of the silk, which must at least have cost 20 francs a yard, ,ained them. The present seemed en- irely out of proportion with the service rendered. Their pride was hurt. They decided to return the silk. In a cata- logue of the salon they found Moussia's address, and one day on their way to the Halles they stopped in the Avenue de Villiers, where the artist lived When they arrived in front of the house. they thought they must have made mistake in the number. Was it possible that their young friend lived in this beautiful mansion? Then she was not a poor artist.
 They rang; a liveried servant opened the door. After taking their names be ushered them into a sumptuous dra wing room. Moussia was lying on a couch wrapped in 8 loose white plush gown. She was much thinner, very pale. Her large eyes shone with a phosphorescent brilliancy. Recognizing her friends. she uttered a joyful exclamation, and rais- ing herself with difficulty she gave them her emaciated hand.
 "I am so happy to see you, ' she said, coughing almost at every word. "You must not feel hurt because I did not come to thank you. I am not allowed to go out. It seems that worked too ls<rd on my last picture. took cold standing in the grass. am now here for some time.'
 The horticulturist and his wife look | ed at her in be, Gilderment. An expses. sion of deep pity came over their faces. | The gardener no longer knew what to | do with the package containing the silk. He felt that he could not return it. "We don't mind it as you were sick, '' answered the wife, but still we were sorry that you sent us this silk. What we did for you we did willingly. We | did not want 8 present for letting you work on our place. My husband and decided to bring the dress back "Oh, you were the one who wished to bring it back, !" interrupted the hus- band.
 "You are both foolish about the mat | ter," exclaimed Moussia, laughing as she used to. "You would pain me deep ly by refusing my present. I wish you to wear this dress" she added, speak ing to the gardeners wife, "in remem- brance of me when I am no longer in | this world.'' Then they both assured her that as she was so young she would soon regain her strength and overcome the disease. "No," answ cred Moussia, "I cannot get we'll. The candle is burning at both ends. shall not live long. You know that children who are too clever never live long, She tried to laugh, but a mist covered her blue eyes.
 "And the apple tree?" she asked, ab- ruptly changing the subject. ''Is it al ways beautiful?'' .- "Oh, no, indeed" they answered, "the blossoms are all gone ; but the fruit is beginning to show. Apples will be plentiful. You must come out and eat some in September. The good air ot Sevres will restore you to health, made. moiselle.'
 She shook her head and let it fall back on the cushions, tired and exhaust. ed by having spoken so much. =; When the horticulturist and his wife departed, Moussia closed her< eyes and thought of the apple tree. It was ir good health. The sap was running from its roots to its branches. It spread its foliage in the sun, laughing at rain afld wind, at cold nights and hot noons while she, imprisoned in room, at tended by the wisest Paris doctors, wa. slowly dying. Oh, misery of human life She was young, beautiful, rich, beloved unusually gifted. She had so much to tell the world, her head was so full oi pictures. Toward the end of October the gar dener and his wife received letter with a wide black border telling then of Moussia's death, and these good peo pie wept for the lovely girl who during one month had been the life and bright ness of their modest country dwelling. In the mad whirl of large cities hu man life ended makes little more i'm precision than the falling of dead leaf After a few days of painful astonish ment the gay Parisian world which hao so admired and feted Moussia returned to its business and its pleasures. Alone three women in mourning continued tt weep in the home of the Avenue dt Villiers.
 One April afternoon they were qnieL ly sitting in the drawing room, file, with souvenirs of the departed, wher the gardener and his wife came into the room. They were dressed for the ocoY sion. The husband wore his, Sunday coat, the wife had her shawl on,. nndel which she concealed large package. | Excuse us, ladies, " said the garden CT, "I am afraid we are disturbing you but we could not let this time of tho year go by without letting you know that We often speak of the dear youne lady. My wife and thouglnrRe would like to bring you something in remem brance of her." The woman raising hel shawl brought forth an armful of flow cry branches. "These are," he contin ued, "the blossoms of the apple tree she painted. They will tell you Letter thar we can how we felt toward Mile Nous sia. and if you will allow it we will bring you every year soms blossoms from the tree as long as it bears. "'s ESt ~
 What kindness there is in simple hearts! It is truly worth mora than all the eloquence of the poets and all the gold of the earth. The gardener and hi, wife have kept their word. and thus j, is that Moussia' s picture is almost al ways adorned with pink blossoms ol ripe apples-faithful and simple offer