The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1899-08-10

land, so that Henri had found his path
In life rosy one. Rich, clever and
handsome, he was immensely popular,
a little spoilt by adulation and very
sensitive to praise or criticism.
The contemplation of marriage had
not escaped his thoughts, but he feared
that he would grow weary of domestic
joys, and the women he met were
either too frivolous or too serious-all
except the one of his dreams, whose
marriage had caused him to feel a dis
tinct sense of loss in his life. A thou
sand times he had blamed himself for
letting this treasure slip away from
his grasp, and when, at last, she was
free again, he found her more beautiful,
more gracious. Then he poured out
his passionate love, only to find his idol
turn cold before his eyes. Never could
he forget her cruel words, and yet she
had confessed that since she was child
she had loved him, and for that reason
had avoided seeing him while married
to the count. For one moment, for
one heavenly instant, her great brown
eyes had gazed into his with tender
ness. Then the look had vanished, and
q quiet dignity enveloped her, as with
an icy mantle. Henri had felt power
less to take her hand, and his eager
words died upon his lips. Thus had
they parted.
The carriage stopped. The coachman
wished to know whether monsieur had
any particular route in view.
nr;,, /, a. 4
Duval, GROSSLY, and they turned down
a long alley toward lake. The young
artist looked listlessly at the children
playing and nurses gossiping.
Suddenly he pulled the check string.
Why should he be mewed up in the
coupe? Why had he not taken his sad
die horse? All, only because he had
not known what he was doing or say
ing since yesterday. This was no day
to sit cooped up in carriage. At
least he could walk; the exercise would
be relief. Telling his man TO wait for
him at the entrance to the Bois, Henri
strode into shady path that bespoke
solitude and wandered. on, while re-
peating in his mind over and over again
the scene of yesterday. At last a sense
of WEAKNESS caused him to rest on a
bench. There he sat brooding and alb
sorbed till his reveries were broken by
the voices of children.
Abstractedly Duval looked up and
watched them ut their playa boy of
some eight years and girl perhaps
two years younger. Gradually his
mood changed, and he became con-
scious of the radiance of the day, the
that glinted and glowed in the sun
light. The air was as wine to his
thirsty lungs, and life grew full of pos
sibilities again, and his thoughts took
new course. Why could he not paint
a soul as well as body He would win
blanche yet. He would not make any
effort to see her now, but would work
and wait. His life should prove his
right to win her love. He would paint
picture that even she would praise.
A hundred subjects presented them
selves to his busy brain as he sat there
watching those two children who
stopped in their play and were crossing
the roadway. Hand in hand they came,
the boy leading his younger compan-
ion, now running, now halting, to avoid
passing carriage, until they reached
the graveled footpath. There they
fingered again, playing on the grass
bordering the path. Both had on blue
aprons and little wooden shoes. They
were without hats, and typical chill
dren of the poor. Presently, quite un-
consciously, the little girl fell into a
pose beneath a slender tree, whose
leaves autumn had turned with Midas
touch to pure gold.
The breeze blew her short curls
about her forehead; her apron was full
of colored leaves the boy had thrown to
her. just then rustling above caused
her to look up and shower OF golden
leaves descended upon her dark curls,
blue apron and little sabots.
"Ah, sweet child Danae," cried Duval,
"thou art an inspiration"
A year of work brought forth the pic
ture that made him famous. 1t was a
simple subject-a child with wind
tossed locks, holding open her blue
apron to catch the golden shower of
leaves, sent dancing down upon her by
the autumn wind.
The public raved over the beauty of
the child's eager, upturned face, the
blue of the sky and the gold of the
tree, but Blanche read the message of
the soul in the innocent eyes, and gave
her heart into the keeping of the
artist who had painted "A Little Danae
in Sabots. Madame.