The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1900-08-10

'Why!" and the girls tone was
earnest as 1t was astonished. 81 don't
Sc how you can think otherwise. Art
demands all the best Of one. and no
second-rate or secondhand devotion,
If one is really to serve and minister
to the beautiful. But II has always
seemed to me-" she added, medita-
lively, that an unmarried minister
has lost fine chance, at least, of get
ting close to the hearts of his people.
| wonder which OF us is right-or
neither, or both?"
Then came the big storm, and after
that all things looked different. Mir
able was anything but a coward, but
she couldn't help feeling a little nerv-
Gus as the great ship trembled and
staggered and rolled under the force
Of the tremendous waves. The young
minister, whose faith was of the real
and assertive kind, soothed and reas-
sured her as she sat, trembling but
silent, in the music room looking out
at the angry waters. The girl was
duly comforted and strengthened, and
the pleasant feeling of half dependence
and intimacy, both of his thoughtful
kindness. lasted even after the sun
had decided to shine again. And the
young minister had also learned some
thing while the storm was raging. 1t
was with a really meek and humble
heart that he assisted her to the upper
deck, just as soon as this was possible,
and stood by her side as she took
mental notes Of the waves and their
form and color.
"Mirable," he said present-he had
learned her name some days before
Il have a confession to make to you.
| have found out-the Lord has taught
me-that my views upon the question
of celibacy have been mistaken. now
agree with you that a clergyman is
better with a wife, and hope-I hard
ly dare nope, but still long to-that
you will be my wife some day, by and
by"
They were quite alone on the rolling
! deck. The weather was still too rough
for others less interested in art-and
one OF its eXponents-to venture out.
The girl, meditating. found that she,
too, had changed her opinions in re-
gard to several matters.
IF l tell you" she said at last, as
bravely, as shyly, that | no longer
believe that love and marriage lessen
ones chances of becoming a great ar
| fist, you must not fancy that it is be-
cause l am ready to say yes to the
question you may want to ask me, pos
sibly, some time. But it has seemed
| to me, lately"
Dear one. let me ask that ques-
ton now" the man at her side broke
in, impulsively. will you, dear child
and sweetheart, promise to become my
wife?"
Again the girl was silent, thinking,
thinking. She no longer believed, as
she had said, that an unmarried exist
ence was necessary for the highest art,
but still-she thought of the picture
| she was longing to paint, the wondrous
thing of graces, nymphs. perhaps. even
Northumberland wondered how it
would do for a minister's wife to paint
and exhibit this thing. And yet-with
love in the balance
She turned to him, smiling.
II will not promise now" she said,
| quietly; at is far too early and we
know far too little of each other for
me to make any such promise, for one
thing, and, besides, have a picture /
must paint first. 1t will take me until
we'll on into next summer. (All this
happened last autumn.) And you
must not write to me. nor ask me to
write to you, until the end of June,
anyway. Then, If you want to risk the
trip Oh such slight encouragement,
you may come to Chicago, and-if you
care to ask RE that question again
l may possibly think about It,"
Last Saturday he came, and next
autumn her studio will be in New
York instead of Chicago, and there
will be a new name UP on the door,
| III -,l.,