The Montgomery advertiser., 1902-01-19
A HOUSE DIVIDED 5
 AGAINST ITSELF5
BY CHARLES EUGENE BANKS. se

BY CHARLES EUGENE BANKS. $ Copyright, 1902. by Daily Story Pub. co.lSs ss 'a: x , about his neck. chung like beautiful flower.
 Do not misjudge me-" she cried. with Il sudden change of manner. T have waited so long to hear one honest word of love, to feel one clasp of a hand that had in 1t the thrill of a full hearts de- sire. And what has been my answer? Polite nothings; formal compliments drawled out; the empty vaporings of a heartless social law that forces its sub tects to forever wear a mask. DO you wonder that I have rebelled at last: that come to you who know, no. knew, nothing of all this, and lay bare my soul before you? Once saw two tigers at play. and their teeth bit into each oth- CTS necks until the red blood trickled my hands and cried Bravo! That is love. What are cold kieses on the finger tips to one whose heart is hungry for a love like that? You are a child of na- ture You should know what I mean" He raised a trembling hand and lightly stroked the waves of bronze-brown hair As he did so miniature fastened to a. 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 1t the counterpart of the painting she had that
 morning seen in the studio. tore 1t off and. with a passionate gesture. flung it across the room.
 No. no; 1 was wrong. You do not un- derstand. You have found some one 10 | love, some one to love you. Your heart ! Is there in the country with that face | like an apple blossom. You think only | of her. Into my eyes YOU painted that wistful look of hers. You have the head and shoulders of lion, but you love a bird''
 | He tried to speak, but could not. In ] his heart two images struggled for mas Art.t laa n.,
 sweet. trusting beautv of her who had | so long been enthroned in his soul rose | between him and the impassioned crea- | ture before him and divided his will He | was like one afloat in a sea of contra | dicuons.
 And then Fate decided for them all. | There swept up from the shore a cry of such woeful import that 1t forced it. and woman. overwrought as they Were You must paint no more today l am sure you are very tired; ... at least. That pose is perfect. Why do you say I sball work no more today?"
 "Because-well, because am restless, life posing would drive me mad think. Because you are tired, too. and need recreation. Let me see the picture. '
 She left her seat and came to the side hand lightly sm his arm. He trembled at the touch and a crimson flush swept into his cheeks.
 "Oh. Mir. Bertrand, this will never do at all" She leaned forward to scan the painting. and he could feel her breath in his hair. "I have not such a sad, tender look in my eyes. now have I?
 Looking up at her command he met with a harmony. as of winds in faroff rushes. His lips trembled and the room swam as in mist. For an instant there was nothing in the world but the beau- HOrhf in
 There now, you know they are gray and blue. Ara tEcy haven't the look you have given them at all. Have they"
 She was by the window now, looking over her shoulder at him laughing softly. What a strange crep:ure she was! He wished he knew more of her. She had come to him some weeks before, saying she mad seen some of his portraits in
 the exhibition and was pleased with them. The artist, too. had been pointed out to her, and she had liked him be- cause he was big and leonins, and had tender look in the brown eyes under the h: avy brows Something of all this she had told him at the first meeting. but in an indirect, elusive way, so that the flashes. not as a whole. Then she had ordered portrait of herself, made ar engagements for sittings in his studio, and placed in his hand handsome de- posit on the order and gone away, leav- ing behind her the faint odor of violets
 You have studied me long enough now to see you're wrong" she cried, with merry laugh, and Bertrand blushed again to know how he had forgotten the present in that moment of retrospec- tion. And no wonder" she continued settling ac4fully into the window seat and clasping her hands in her lap. This is the ninth sitting, and today for the first time you have really looked at me Hour after hour have I sat stiffly staring at the blank wall while you mixed and brushed and touched and leaned back to Sntlint cOmnlacRntlV work htlt never once did you look at me. What are you 10 knuw of woman, sir. merely by glancing at her once in while out of the corners of your eyes?"
 Her eyes danced with the fun of 1t all Tie simplicity and naturalness of this broad-shouidered man with the head and mans of a lion attracted her and she delighted in having him at her mercy. just as she would have delighted in sub jecting q real king of the forest to her will
 If the portrait does not please you"
 Please me! or course it doesn't please me. You have only to paint d gray robe and veil and label it Sister Angelica to make 1t complete. I'm not that at great plcture-a battle scene in one of the old cathedrals, for instance, where there Is color and action to tone up the religious atmosphere, but nothing meek wearing a mask in real life without de- grading art with 1t. Art should tell the truth. And truth iS'-she laughed again, q low. mellow. rippling cadence the truth Is. Mir Bertrand, I'm not an angel and you will have to change the eyes"
 He looked first at her and then at the painting on the easel, and mentally agreed with her. She divined as much, and. with a sudden change of manner. cried pdssionately:
 "Oh, I am so weary of this round of frivolous ncthingness. You are TO diff ferent than all the rest. You are shock ed that I should speak the truth, show my feelings, once i'll my life before natural human being. And you an artist. I had thought better of you. For me, it is my fate to be bound in the chains of eonVentionalitv. What if the chains ace? Is 1t any the less q prison? I'd rather have been born a beggar girl, to cry songs in the streets of some obscure Italian town, born to plan, work, strive, sing, dance, break hearts and on their ruins rise to something higher--better this new world, dull, narrow, tame, love less
 The artist had risen and he stood re- garding her with a troubled lCok. He knew very little of women, and especial Iy of women such as she. Down there ill his homo among the Virginia hills women had been content to care for their homes. their husbands and their children To love, to give and to expect
 little in return. Here, indeed, was a different sort of creature.
 They were in striking contrast, these two, as they stood there in the tenn poral light of the studio. He tall. broad shouldered. big of feature. with a great mop of black hair tum5ling up from wide, high forahead-an awkward giant, trembling at the glance of d creature he could have crushed between his thumb