The Montgomery advertiser., 1902-01-19
THE ADVERTISERS ]: DAILY.SHORT STORY

ss s E E E E !.
 "A remarkably good painting" she continued. scanning the picture. "One must have been very deeply impressed tS draw ,. it from memory Is it good
 You have told me already that your portrait is a failure. Is it likely that | have been more fortunate with this
 lne?"
 There was no mistadng the genuine
 .ess of the compliment, and the lady
 miled brightly up into the face of her
 ompanion. Come, let us go." she cried. We shall lose the best of the Jay in this den of tobacco and bear skins if we don't make haste"
 But when they came out upon the street they found the air darkened and the wind blowing a hurricane. People were seurrying madly along the streets In a wild eudeavor to reach their desti- nations before the storm broke. There were frequent bursts of thunder and the iightnings cast a vivid glare over the buildings.
 The gladness of spring is not to be inJoyed today she said. with a con
 empt for the threatening elements that cheated out of your holiday. Home, Clarence" she commanded. addressing the coachman. You shall come to din- ner with me- she continued, turning again to the artist. He held the carriage door open for her. but she ran back to the door of the building and emptied her purse in the cup of a blind beggar An offering to the gods. Now We shall be N into the carriage and settled back among the cushions with a sigh of sat- isfaction.
 Though the storm at that moment broke over the city the horses dragged the rosking carriage. sometimes dashins madly along before the blast. sometimes | struggling bravely against 1t. As they neared the lake the roar of angry wa | .f.s.. 1.s.1 like the booming of cannon. But the | woman by Bertrand's side gave no sign l of fear, sitting quiet and serene as he could see by the almost constant flashes | of lightning.
 T think I should like to live forever | Tn the heart of such a storm. she said as the carriage came out on the smooth driveway skrting the lake:
 l man. himself awed by the fury of the tempest. Such d storm is enough to awake fear in the stoutest heart.
 scene etIbas nke this his W she replied, dreamily. T sometimes think am more than half savage"
 Bertrand thought of the slight. ele- gant figure sitting comfortably wrapped in soft robes before him. and then of the savages he had seen on the West ern plains. and smiled at the contrast. Yet fear certainly 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 wondered if there was not some thing in the life. of these children of fortune that made them different from the people ne had known. While he was turning these 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 fanked by magnificent pillars of stone.
 Here we are safe after a most peril ous voyage. thanks. probably. to my timely offering through the beggar," cried the lady, as the door swung open and they passed into the hall. 'Wel- come, Mir. 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 discomforts of 1t for even q moment. It was as though some fairy had touched with a magic wand his poor surround iDgs and transformed them into palace of wonderland.
 done in blue and gold. They looked up- on the pictures of the old masters in the art gallery. His hostess entertained him with conversation on art, science and literature, and showed him with be- coming 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
 
 haps 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 hast en 1t.
 It came at last. Strolling through one of the larger rooms they came upon 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 d mighty wreck. The air was full of flying spray dashed up from the rocks. Trees bent with the blast, or fell crashing to the ground, their trunks twisted and splintered.
 Bertrand stared upon the picture. Aw- full as the storm was. 1t seemed to him, coming upon it so out of the dreamful stiffness, more terrible than anything his imagination had ever pictured. He shud- dered and put his hand over his eyes. But the effect of this battle of wind and wave had exactly opposite effect upon his companion. As she had said, some thing in her seemed to answer to the de- manding voice of the tempest, and she became at once unusually animated. The stately reserve of her demeanor melted away, her lips took on more color and parted pantingly. and her whole figure became at once SinuouS, passionate.
 "See!" she cried. Are you an artist and stand dumb before such spectacle? How the great waves shoulder one an- other in mad endeavor to embrace the shore. How they leap upon the weaker. choking, crushing, destroying in the wild ness of desire!, o living waves! O, mighty. throbbing, demanding sea, strivs on! l am with you!'
 She leaned forward till her face was almost against the pane, her whole body vibrating with the passion that pos sessed her. And he, looking upon her so, felt the fire kindlins 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 For so long they have waited calm. placid. enduring But now the winds or 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 | 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 were 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 wo- man, the mother of all mankind, be but the idle playthinF of a mans fancy? Why should not she choose as well as he?'
 She stood up now. straight and tall, her eyes flashing. her face glowing the ire of inspiration He would have been He bowed his head before her as before a superior being and stood still. But she came to him. and twining her arms