El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1900-02-21
An UnprofeS5ionaf Model.

The sun, declining on the coast of Nor
way, made the wide ford simmer like
liquid gold below the purple mountains.
Christine sat at the foot of the cliff dream
ing-not that she was asleep, but lost in
reverie. The sun made her long, braided
hair shine like halo as she rested her
cheek her hand and dreamed. Her
thoughts were far away, and she did not
notice that some one had quietly rowed
his boat within short distance of where
she sat. He was evidently artist, for
at his feet in the boat lay open port
folio.
He dropped his oars, entranced at the
unexpected and lovely vision. The flow
erlike face of the girl. the quaint cos
tume-a short brown wooden skirt.
chemisette of snowy linen. a black velvet
bodice and a red stocking cap on her
cleaning hair.
What study for his next exhibition!
Snatching his pencil. he made 6 hasty
sketch of the little figure. with the cliffs
looming up behind, the placid water al
most touching her feet. She was surely
a fairy of this land of romance, and
presently the little elves would come to
seek her. He could almost fancy them
whispering to her now. Having finished
the sketch. he gently rowed ashore.
Christine started with surprise as he
leaped from the boat, but was treasured
by the respectful manner in which he adj
dressed her.
Il beg your pardon for intruding," said
he, politely. Il had no idea there was
any one in this region but myself. But
will you kindly tell me the name of this
place? 1t is marvelously beautiful"
And he sat down on a rock nearby.
That is the Naeroiord." she replied.
and her eyes seemed fathoms deep as she
hoo, sf.,I h.rf cod
thing happened here"
What was that? Do tell me-" he ask
ed, at the same time making mental
notes of the lovely model he intended to
reproduce on the other side of the sea.
MANY years ago." she went on. "a
beautiful maiden lived this mountain,
and she sang so sweetly in the evening
that all were charmed who listened to
her. She was merry and happy. and her
songs were gay as any birds. But one
day a stranger came in his boat-even as
you come now-and hearing the maiden
sing as she sat here. he praised her voice
and said many things which pleased her.
And after that they met here every even
ing during the summer time. and she was
so happy she sang only for love of him.
Though he lived in a distant country,
she consented to become his bride. He
promised to come for her when the
leaves fell in the forest. but he did not
come. The snow covered the mountains
and the spring melted it, and then she
knew she would see him no more. And
her sad songs seemed like a moan as the
wind carried them out to sea. till one
night a terrible storm swept the ford
and the girl did not come home. They
found her there by the rock in the morn
ing. where the waves had washed her
body on the sand. And some say that on
stormy nights you can hear her moaning
by the cliffs, for she still mourEs for the
lover who promised to come. l never
sit here at sunset but | think of her"
THANK you," responded the artist. Il
didn't know the story. but l can quite
believe it of such a place as this. DO
you live the mountain?' And he
noted the small feet and the delicate
hands, which did not look as if they had
ever done much work.
Eyes; 1 have lived here with GRANDPA
ther since | was a little child. My par
ents were lost at sea. Would you like to
see grandfather" she asked. without a
shadow of mistrust apprehension.
'He is very fond of company"
The artist readily asserting. Christine
led him through the gorge to the other
side of the mountain, where a fine old
house stood in its shelter.
The old sailor looked a true descendant
of the vikings as he sat on the porch.
from where he could view the ford in
all it's changing majesty.
He welcomed the traveller royalty, and
q servant brought him a draft of wine
and some curious CONNECTIONS. Christine
sat at her grandfather's feet listening to
his wonderful tales of the northern seas,
and the moon was high in the heavens
when the artist departed, after promis-
ing the old man to return the next day
for a sail in his queer looking vessel.
The rooms of the art club were throng-
ed with artists, connoisseurs, patrons and
men of wealth and fashion.
In one corner butterfly group of girls
lowered around a canvas marked "3S4."
''Oh. what is that?" did you ever
see anything so charming?" what love-
ly hair!' what is it called?"
The catalogue answered the question:
"'An Evening Dream In Norway by
o. B."
Suddenly there was hush. and the
admirng group turned to look at a fair.
golden haired girl who had just entered
talking to a distinguished looking man.
Though dressed in the prevailing fashion.
there could be mistaking her. She
was undoubtedly the original of the Nor
wegian maiden in "3S4."
Not without result had this man with
the keen sense of romance spent two
months amid the enchanting atmosphere
of the Norwegian lakes and mountains in
company with the grand old Norseman
and his lovely granddaughter. Unlike
the lover in the ancient legend. he did
not promise to return for his bride. but
won and married her on the very noun
tain where at sunset he had first seen
her dreaming by the ford and carried
her off to his western home to inspire
him in his art forever.-Boston Post.