The Savannah morning news., 1901-10-23
Our Daily" Short Stories
THE DEFENSE.
BY w. B. BARRETT.
copyright. 1901. by Authors syndicate5

r was showing when Eleanor re-
formed from the private view. The air
,.ss bitter, the wind wintry. She was
z,.5 TO re-enter the coziness of her ST.
Emf studio, it's light, it's warmth; to
COS the CHEEKY welcome Of the flicker
.,s cas- log which in her bedchamber
esi,ining invited in its humble ashes
+o4 way the cordial greeting of pine.
larson. good chap, had left her at the
s-i5io door, though he had looked
r,~ginely at the comfort within, and
sb. knew he would have stayed If she
had asked him more cordially.
erul she had asked him. Her con-
science must have been clear on the
score of gentle hospitality-else why
ehould she so petulantly have flung
her sealskin coat across the easel and
.,,nk Hstlessly into a Morris chair
(which commanded at once the speak
inc study fo. a canvas before it and a
view through the archway of the
4 blinking asbestos.
He needn't have looked SO wistful."
she murmured, discontentedly. Il did
ask him to come in and get warm.
\ said. Perhaps it's too late, but you
can toast yourself minute before
,-u start for the north side, if you
want to. Ungracious? Well. why does
he bother me? Didn't he have me the
whole evening, and to supper too?
Isn't that enough?
And how he praised my pictured
How all of them did, indeed. They
4 we're awfully good, and yet"
She rose restlessly and walked up
n and down as a man might, Bohemian
that she was, pausing at last before
Il the easel in the semi-darkness.
And YET she went on, in a pas
Il sionate multitone which still was little
n more than a whisper after all, what
good is it all? What do l care whether
they praise or damn? What do | care
whether my work is good or ill? What
are wreaths and coronets when one
heart is hungry for love, and love is
Il fed away, driven by FOOLS laugh,
OH"
And now, in a storm of bitterness
Il she sank shudderingly upon the rug be
meath her, her hands upon her eyes
Il and a flow of tears wet them with theii
kindly solace.
She saw again, in fancy, the ga!
q orowding of the view" A galaxy o
Il beauty, gowned in the seasons bril-
II liancy of color, Wed with the art which
II decked the walls. There had been
q frou-frou of rich stuffs. a tinkle of well
81 bred merriment, a hum of convention
& al compliment. Across it all, plotting
81 out the lights, the canvases, hushinl
ii the gayety, rose again his face, as sh
n had seen it that afternoon, across
- triC Of oil faapc T1aIo
a seeming to have suffered, seeming still
81 10 suffer, bearing a cross and frozen in
81 to a grim and enduring silence. Sh
# had looked long upon that face, unit
81 her own color had deserted cheek ant
81 lip and fed back to the tumult of he
beating heart. Then she ha,
81 beckoned the faithful Burson and pre-
cipitately left the gallery. And now
Yes now, what? Harold was back
after those years. But what was tina
Isl 10 her; what could it be? She wht
had in ashes strewn her heart anC
81 hooded her face in sackcloth becaus
one little mo" had changed her lift
81 and his, what was there now to do t.
set it right?
Not upon a Haunting sleeve can &
woman weave her heart. She had sait
No. and he had gone away. He wa'
"a come again, but her mo" must still b.
"a vocal ana sing IN ner ears us crue
harshness. She had cast him away
s. her pearl of men; it was to art sht
81 would be wed, she had said, as if dis
81 daining tingling human pulses and ca
ressing arms; to art, cold, lofty. high
81 exalted and exalting art. She had as
81 pired to be lifted up-and the little goo
had with the crooking of his tiny, re
morseless finger cast her down anC
sown brambles where his arrow fes
tered.
Three years! Gods! How she haC
striven to ease the pain which cut he
almost before Harold was beyond tn
n sea- And success had come, success
undoubtful; a noble success, laurelet
and acclaimed. The fires Of geniu
burned within her soul and lent i'm
pulse to her heaven-gifted brush, tn
critics said. To-day had been the hou