The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1902-02-02

scene like this she replied, dreamily.
Il sometimes think / am more than halt
savage
Bertrand thought of the slight, elegant
| figure sitting comfortably wrapped in soft
/ robes beside him, and then of the saw
| ages he had seen on the Western plains,
| and smiled at the contrast. Yet fear GER
| tafnly held no place in the heart Of his
! companion. He contrasted her present
stoicism with the exhibition of her
changeful moods in the studio and won
/ dered if there was not something in the
| life of these children Of fortune that
made them differen from the people he
had known. When he was turning these
1 things over in his mind the carriage
stopped under an archway, the coachman
threw open the door and they alighted
before a flight Of stone steps leading up
to carved oaken doors flanked by magniti-
I cent pillars of stone.
Here we are, safe after a most peril
! Gus voyage, thanks probably to my time
i ly offering through the beggar,' cried
/ the lady, as the door swung open and
| they passed into the hall. Welcome Mr..
Bertrand"
All about him the artist saw evidences
! of wealth and refinement He Thought
Of his roughly furnished studio and won
dered how one used to the elegance OF a
home like this could have borne the dis
comforts of it for even a moment It
was as though some fairy had touched
4 with magic wand his poor surrounding;
! and transformed them into a palace OF
! " onderland.
They dined off dainty china in a room
! done in blue and gold. They looked upon
! the pictures of the old masters in the
] art gallery. His hostess entertained him
! with conversation on art, science and lit
! erature, and showed him with becoming
4 modeSty a small volume of poems of
| which she was the author. She played
| for him upon the piano dreamy airs that
! breathed of far-off Spain, of flowers and
wine and graceful dancing girls. Perhaps
/ he said things, too. He did not know
! he did not try to remember. A thought
might shatter the delicate fabric of this
/ dream. Let it go on. If the end must
come he would do nothing to hasten it.
/ 1t came at last. Strolling through one
/ OF the larger rooms they came upon a
! window looking toward the lake, and all
! the fury of the forgotten storm burst
! suddenly upon their view Cloud high
! the black waves lifted themselves as
with mighty effort, and then exhausted
| fell shoreward mighty wreck The air
! was full of flying spray dashed up from
4 the rocks Trees bent with the blast or
/ fell crashing to the ground, their trunks
/ twisted and Splintered
! Bertrand stared upon the picture Aw-
/
| coming upon it SO out of the dreamful
! stiffness, more terrible than anything his
| imagination had ever pictured He shud-
! dCred and put his hand over his eyes
! But the effect of this battle of wind ana
wave had an exactly opposite effect upon
1 hlS-compdnlOn. AS she had said some
! thing in her seemed to answer to the de-
handing voice of the tempest, and she
! became at once unusually animated The
! stately reserve of her demeanor melted
| away her lips took more color an1
! parted pantingly, and her whole figure
became at once sinuous, passionate
''Seep' she cried. Are you an artist
! and stand dumb before such a spectacle?
| How the great waves shoulder one an
| other in a mad endeavor to embrace the
/ shore! How they leap upon the weaker,
choking, crushing, destroying in the
! Wildness of desire! o living wavesi o
mighty, throbbing, demanding sea, strive
| on! l am with your
She leaned forward until her face was
almost against the pane, her whole body
vibrating with the passion that possessed
her And he, looking upon her so, felt the
fire kindling in his own veins, not from
love of the storm, but of her
See" she continued, turning to him
and clasping his arm with trembling
hands, "how the loving waters embrace
the waiting land, kiss and hold it fast!
For so long they have waited, calm,
placid, enduring. But now the winds Of
heaven have come to wake them to ac-
ton and the air is resonant with their
! shouts of triumph! It Is so with all of
us. Do you wonder why l rejoice in the
! madness of this storm? Because it is
like my own life. How long have l NOV
ed under the eye of the world, quiet
placid, restrained as We're the waves only
this morning. But in me, as in them,
was a neVer-ceasing hunger for freedom
for power, for action, for love. Most
women are like the land willing to wait
till man, like the sea, shall come to take
them to himself. But why should
woman, the mother of all mankind, be
but the idle plaything of mans fancy?
Why not she choose as well as he?
She stood up now straight and tall, her
eyes flashing, her face glowing the fire
of inspiration. He would have been less
| than man not to have worshiped her
He bowed his head before her as before
| superior being and stood still. But she
came to him, and twining her arms about
his neck chung like a beautiful flower
do not misjudge me-, she cried, with
a sudden change of manner. 81 have
waited so long to hear one honest word
of love, to feel one clasp of hand that
had in it the thrill of a full hearts de-
sire. And what has been my answer?
ments drawled out; the empty vaporing
of a heartless social law that forces it's
subjects to forever wear mask. DO you
wonder that I have rebelled at last, that
I come to You who knows, no, knew, moth
ing of all this, and lay bare my soul be-
fore you? Once 1 saw two tigers at play,
and their teeth bit into teach others
necks until the red blood trickled down
their tawny hides. And I clapped my
hands and cried 'BravoH That is love
What are cold kisses on the finger tips
to one whose heart is hungry for a love
like this? You are child of nature.
You should know what [ mean
He raised a trembling hand and lightly
stroked the waves of bronze-brown hair
AS he did so a miniature fastened to
chain that he wore about his neck
slipped through the folds of his share
and lay exposed upon his breast, She
caught at it and, recognizing in it the
counterpart of the painting she had that
morning seen in the studio, tore it off