Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1902-09-11

The old painter had once lived in
the world, and still retained a knowl
edge of the places where such work
vas sold. So he packed up the paint
/ ing and sent it, with all its breezy
/ freshness of youth and beauty and
country air, away to the city. The
young painter had said to him: 81
can do nothing now until | see" and
he had looked disappointed, and she
/ grew thin and nervous while waiting
She had seen Henry but once since
their meeting in the orchard. and that
was the evening after the picture was
packed. She met him in the road, and
he held out his hand and said: 81 am
going back to college tomorrow, Ruth.
My vacation has not been what hoped
it would be when l came home, but
two more terms at college, and then
hope to get into place where 1
can command your attention"
you had best build your air cas-
ties without me, Henry"
you are building yours without me,
l suppose?"
Eyes"
And he went away in anger. 1t was
heartbreaking to have him go in this
way; but her mother had said: "The
Carridines are proud people, and you
had better keep away from them"
She thought of this, and it helped her
to control her feelings.
One day the old painter sent for her;
she came to him white and breathing
hard. He held out a roll of bills to-
wards her. "Oh, is it enough, enough
for term at a good art school?" she
gasped.
"And it is an art school, then you
aim at ?" he asked, somewhat appeased.
Eyes, it is enough; Wen make it
enough"
Then she left the country and went
to the city to study art, and her life
became a life of labor, where partial
success was followed by failure; then
struggle to succeed again. She taught
awhile and studied awhile, and her
name was printed in a paragraph of
other names of toilers along the same
hard way.
She rarely had time to visit her old
home; time passed, and she realized it
not. But there was a mixture of vanity
and selfshness with all this devotion
to art-a desire to write her name
above that of Carradine. With this
end in view she triumphed over all her
natural feelings, and lost the sweet
ness that is in work for the works
sake. Her younger brother and sis
ters grew up, married and moved
away. Her father died while she was
in Europe-and still she was not ia
nous; still she had never painted any
thing as we'll as she had painted the
youth and maiden under the apple
tree.
Sometimes the memory Of that early
painting came back to her; sometimes
in the heat and dust, tired and travel
stained. she would be waited away in
vision and be again in the old orchard.
IF only mother had let us alone!"
she would exclaim, fretfully.
Henry studied law and rose high in
the profession. He married a lawyers
daughter. Ruth had read the details
of the marriage in the papers. Even
that was long ago now, and i'll Ruth's
hair there was a touch of silver where
there had once been a CLINT of gold;
and the light was fading from her
eyes.
She received telegram one evening;
il said: "YOur mother is dying; come
to her" She started for the old home
the home she had not seen for years.
When she had changed cars for the
last time and was on the little train
that ran into the old country town, her
attention was attracted toward we'll
dressed lady and handsome youth who
sat lust in front of her in the car.
There was something about the boy
that was familiar to her; something
that brought again vision of apple
blossoms. She watched him intently-
and noted his fondness for and devO-
ton to the lady whom he called moth
er. and as she watched a feeling Of
loneliness came over her and desire
to have him come to her and smile into
her eyes.
4 passenger came through the coach
and stopped to speak to the two.
Mrs. Carradine," he exclaimed, 81
am glad to see you and Master Henry
coming home again
Thank you; Henry, my husband al
ways wants us to spend part Of every
summer with his aunt. She is very
feeble now and can't be induced to
leave the old place"
Ruth Dartmore looked out of the
window. She had arrived in time to
see her mother buried, and beside the
grave she awoke and found she was
CLONE in the world,-N. o. Times-Dem-
Ucrat.