The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1901-03-17
A HOPELESS LOVE.


credulous passionate pain in the man 5
voice that even naughty Lenores Glenco
turned a little pale; yet other men
prouder men-who had conquered for
tune and wrung laurels from the reluc-
tant hand Of fame. had bent as low be-
fore her beauty and her power as did
this struggling artist-this stranger
whom her father had employed TO paint
her in all her languid loneliness.
Tomorrow he said once more, with
working lips. Il did not know it, did
not dream it, Tomorrow
A naughty anger lighted in her azure
eyes; then the long golden lashes hld
! them, and she swept the draperies Of
velvet aside and looked once more at the
! portrait on the easel. Her own face,
cain and regal and alluring, her own
| form, with all it's sovereign grace.
You seem very much surprised, Herr
Griswold, she said slowly. in chill, mus
zeal accents. yet, I fancy most of the
| people who have heard of me know that
on the morrow I become a bride I am
glad the portrait is finished; could not
| give another sitting and ! wished my
father TO have this reminder of me.
! You have made OF it a marvellous like
ness, albeit a trifing hattering, I viii
send my father to you, and now viii
you farewell.
She allowed the velvet to fall and hide
the portrait, and with a slight inclina-
ton OF her stately, sunny head, turned
away.
But she had not gone half dozen
steps when the young man darted before
her and flung himself on his knees at her
feet. lifting a face as white as sea foam
| to the light that came redly in from the
| western window.
"Oh, do not leave me so! know my
| presumption, my madness. but listen; let
me say it once in words-I have told you
in a hundred ways unreproved-I love
yeu-I love you!'
Inc eyes of the beautiful girl fairly
| flashed, then grew cruelty cold and hard
as blue steel.
..Unreproved?" she said. haughtily
! DO you know why, sir painter? Be
cause we do not reprove what we do not
design to notice, What madness has
made you forget that I am the daughter
/ of Baron Glenco, the affianced of the
1 Marquis LIE Noir? While you-you have
been employed by my father to but paint
me, as you have done. Rise, Herr Girls
void. or at least suffer me to pass"
! "Oh, for the love Of pity, leave me but
a touch Of your hand-but a single
word he prayed. Il know how true It
/ all is that you have said; but I am mad
| mad! And tomorrow you become a
I bride; Oh, bend to me once; lay your
! hand even on my hair. and I will forever
! bless you'll I am dying of my love.
!
| strained sobs-that lifted his bosom con-
vulsively and shook his whole slight,
! graceful form; the masses o. rich hair
! had grown damp on his forehead; his
! eyes had such a pain in them as comes
to the eyes Of a stricken deer.
But the woman before him, held there
| by the hands fastened in her velvet dress
did not soften did not bend; instead,
| slow, angry, naughty color flushed her
/ 1awless face
You are man." she said, coldly, scorn-
/ fully, drawing her robes from his ire
mulous hands and directing her golden
head with more than human pride. L
/ bend to youi l lay my hand in yours.
] Let me again remind you / am a noble
/ daughter. and royal blood is in my veins.
You have surely forgotten that I am not
| a peasant, to whom your love would Ne
welcome and your emotion a compl-
ment"
Hear mel Say one kindly word, to
prove that you are human, and can feel
| for me, as even a queen might feel for
1 one who loved her without hope! Be
cause the same God created us! Spare
! me your scorn!" he prayed, agoniZedly.
/ But she drew beyond the reach of his
4 outstretched hands, turned, in the warm
sunset glow, and went-sIowly, Ianguid-
| ", proudly-leaving him there alone in
/ the magnificent light of the dying day,
/ prone, as he had flung himself, face
downward on the polished oaken floor,
/ quivering, shuddering. stricken unto
death almost by the scorn she had flung
] from her eyes upon him.
Has the brush of the artist done you
! justice?" asked the Marquis. fondy.
Nay, I know it has not. An inspira-
/ ton would have to come for that-the
divine inspiration of more than human
/ love"
: csLe -,oIa5 n 1;++1o +t,o~ h,,+ --.;,,s ,4,-
| her old chill disdain. The artist had done
her more than justice and love had been
/ his inspiration-love, perhaps greater
! than that of the man beside her bat a
! love on which her dainty foot had trod-
den as remOrselessly, as uncaringly as
on the morrow it would tread on the
white fragrance of the bridal roses which
! peasant children would strew along her
way.
A few moments the lovers paused in
the corridor, hand in hand, whispering
softly of the life before them, with all
! its glorious promise.
Then pushing open the heavy door,
which had swung TO but an hour before
/ behind the baron's daughter. they enter
ed the room in which, on its easel un-
der concealing folds of rich, ruby-hued.
velvet, stood the portrait Of Lenore
! Clenco.
/ Was poor Griswold still prone before
it, with his delicate face pressed against
the oaken fOor, his sobs still filing the
! silence2
No; nor was the portrait now shrouded
! With the full red splendor of the dying
| day striking warmly on the canvas it
/ faced them as they entered.
But what vandal hand had so married
/ the serene and lofty Ioveliness so chill
ed and frozen the proud smile on the
crimson lips. so changed the blue OF the
marvellous eyes. until their light was but
cruelty, their azure but cold, steel-like
glitter. ike that which CLEANS upon the
! quarry OF some merciiess lion when the
fangs are in its flesh and the life is
slowly going from it?
Aghast. shocked beyond words with
growing horror on his face. the marquis
looked, fascinated, yet repealed by that
1 pictured cruelty.
Then his face flushed and his eyes
/ flashed.
where is the fellow he asked. ba-
! tween his teeth. His very life shall
but poorly pay the insult given you by
his brush,"
She had not spoken. had not moved
/ before bur now the naughty pride Of her
race famed Up IN her. intolerant ard
| merciless; the blue of her eyes had light
not unlike that which met them from
{ the undried canvas. as. lifting her hand
( she pointed TO where. IN q distant part
! of the room with his face buried on MS
4 bosom. the artist. who had thus Offended.
/ crouched in a great chair.
There was no pity no mercy. IN her
lifted hand; Il never trembled, but "
the gesture II q queen. pointed out the
one who had dared revenge las anguish
thus
with a Kissing cry ~ angry resent
ment the marquis sprang toward that
notionless crcuchirg Squire. and Iafd
his parrician hand on the dropping