Pike County press. (Milford, Pa.) 1895-1925, 1902-12-12


He had resolved to die
Ii was only his failure to represent still
life acceptably that weighed upon his heart
though his anxiety and long hours Of ap-
plication bad made serious inroads upon his
health A vision OF lips and eneeks, richer
than the grandiest petals he had ever paint
ed, rose hauntingy before him through all
his waking and sleeping hours. His heart
turned to the downs of Devon and a vine
embowered cottage there Toll Toll But
1t was sweet as he thought OF the day when
he should return and gather the living
flower that blossomed there. His return was
contingent upon success in his art, however
and now he had failed!
For two years he had carried the idea of
the tulip cluster in his mind, working on ID
only at intervals when he felt most in the
mood At the same time he had bought the
natural flowers to serve as models; he spent
his last tuppenny for couple of bulbs,
which he sent to Cynthia.
we shall see who produces the fairest
tulips" he had written banteringly. He
had added more ssriondy that she should
hssr from hin no more uutn he same "
her in person, crowned With success.
On this day Of gloom, when the clouds
deepened the London fog he bitterly con
jectured how the tulips IN Devon had pros
pered; and yet it was enough that his own
had withered, hali-blown. He was deter
mined to die.
Montague was an artist, through and
through As his wasted figure lay ON the
bed, from which he could no longer rise, he
planned that death itself should come IN
artistic guise. He had worked out bis plan
with delicate ingenuity. Through the tulips
he had failed Their dainty petals should be
his exeeutioner In a broken pane Of the
window he had arranged a trap which com
municated with the gas JET inside the room.
Over the jet he had placed a cap which
would be thrown off when the trap wa
sprung. On the window ledge outside he
had placed flower pot, filled with good,
rich loan, and in it planted a tulip bulb.
The pot was set directly beneath the trigger
Of his cunningly devised trap. Every ray OF
the sun and every drop Of the showers that
fell as spring came on would lure the bud
from the bulb and WOO it upward day by
day, towards the fatal trap Some day, a.
the petals expanded and the world outside
was riotous with new warmth Of March,
there would be a spring Of the trgger-the
cap would release the carbon-then asphyxia
and nirvana.
Montague contemplated his quaint device
with sinister smile Of satisfaction. 1t wa.
the very refinement Of self-destruction.
Could Petronius ksve dSAs better! Al
least he did not.
For many weeks he had lain there served
grudgingly enough by the wizened Old house
keeper, who thought too much on her ar
rears to take note of the tulip trap He
spent his time, when his strength would
permit, in writing a diary. Cynthia would
get il when he was dead. and then she
would know how deeply he had loved her.
When too much exhausted to write he
watched the growth of the tulip-the first
tiny shoot, then the gradual swelling OF the
bud-the imperceptible, but ceaseless length
ening of the slender stem (which pointed
with fatal accuracy towards the trigger
Nearer and nearer with every day the sun.
shine sifted through; nearer and nearer with
every dancing shower There was fasci-
nation in its development, which only deep
ened as the bud seemed actually TO touch the
deadly lever.
Montague had tossed feverishly all night,
and waited with more than usual anxiety
for the dawn 1t brought a brighter sun
light than he had seen for weeks.
To-day the tulip will surely bioom" he
said, significantly.
He lay back with the composure Of a
brave man under the guillotine.
He had scarcely set himself for the fatsd
hour when the sunlight disappeared and in
a few moments q gloom as Of night sgttled
over the room. The light curtain rustlsd
and through the window he saw that the
tulip was swaying in the wind Its deli
cate tips were toying with the thread OF
I trrla t-tal
strike the leverl This was a new element in
his death leap. Ii wasnot the calm growth
and the fatal spring he had pictured 70 long.
The wind rose higher and the tulip bent to
the red rim of the pot. 1t Strengthened and
| dipped again with every gust. How long
/ could this brittle stem stand the straing In.
termittently there came the noise of a fall
ing tile The artist knew that the wind
had become a gale.
Snapl
The halfopened tulip fell prone against
I the rim and swayed back no more
Az the same instant there was a knock at
/ the door, but without waiting for a response
the visitors burst into the room.
Cynthia threw back her hood and the
raindrops fell in showers as she shook hen
curls
1nEIE WAS a nNNNN eNNN az nNUNAu NAWalr
be left to the Imagination But the real tu-
lips in Devon had prospered Were they
not the largest and richest Of those sold
daily at Covent garden. There was nc
longer any need that Montague should
siczen over their eounterfeiis ia the gloom OF
Devereaux court.
The girls cheeks blanched as he con.
fessed how he had set the tulip trap, but the
color came again more ruddily than ever,
and soon il erept into those Of the artist
himself
Il vas a sunny morning, indeed, when
they turned their faces towards the down.
Of Devon.
Cynthia looked up at the artist All the
paleness was gone He was flushed with re.
turning health and happiness.
The tulip has surely bloomed to-day,
she said, and nnied.-New Orleans Times.
Democrat.
Boys Life Saved From Membranous Group