Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1903-01-02
Cecil Thorne's Masterpiece.
THE ROMANCE OF A PAINTING.

The last was an exclamation, not a
greeting.
Ninette was glaring from her dark
eyes. and Julia involuntarily shuddered
as she lifted her rich silken gown and
swept down the stairs.
"Oh, if knew how to speak French
I would let that little French demon
know she must not stare at me so in
solently. Poor Ninette! 1 hope her
love for Cecil will not interfere with
his work, but l am the last person in
the world who ought to blame her for
loving him."
Careless and free as are only the
pleasure loving English artists who al
ternate the study Of art with that of
La Vie' in the Eden of both, Cecil
Thorne and his companions made the
cafes in the Latin Quarter of Paris
ring with their merriment until late
hour, when Cecil returned to his lodg-
ing, intoxicated with the thought of
the morrow. He spent half hour or
SO In his studio. and after making
few final arrangements started for his
attic bedroom. AS he passed the door
OF Ninette's apartments he wondered
if she slept. Then, at a sudden recol-
lection OF his hopes. and all they meant
TO him, he broke into merry whistle,
and mounted -heartedly to his own
door. His burst of merriment was the
last straw.
Tomorrow" she thought, "I will
not forget that 1 have helped you to
put warmth and soul into her eyes
You think you shall find fame to-mor-
row, and that the fair-haired, cold
hearted English girl will help you to
rejoice; but you do not know Ninette"'
Springing from her couch she felt for
matches, but could find none mo
matter" she said. 81 know the easel
well. Have l not watched him bend
ing over 1t as though he loved the
canvas itself? Dieu. you should have
exhibited Ninette." Noiselessly, vim
dictively, she groped her way along the
dark passage into the studio. Not even
moonbeam to assist her feet over
| the cold stone floor. "Ha-the easelw
she gave a little cry OF pain as her
tender foot came in contact with the
sharp edge. Then, seiZing n wet brush,
| with delirious joy she drew 1t again
and again across the picture, smear
ing beyond recognition every corner of
! the canvas. "rhere" she said, as she
| threw down the brush and started to
leave the studio. "There! Mademois-
| ellie Yellow Hair-I hate golden hair
at least, l should hate it If Cecil had
not golden hair"
The thought of Cecils fair hair,
| which she had so often covered with
| ardent kisses, recalled her to a moment
| OF sudden reproach. What had she
done? She who pretended to love
Cecil had destroyed the result of
whole half years toll and his hope of
fortune, and perhaps-yes, that selfish
| perhaps" swept over her with over
whelming force, and the little criminal
crept back to her chamber, threw her,
self upon her couch, and there re-
mained till her restless slumber was
disturbed by the sound of Cecil's foot
steps entering the studio.
She awoke with a start. He was
walking toward the easel She dared
| not so to him: she would wait till the
first outburst of h,s noesion had n,ssod
For n long tin,a tbero ,vos absolute
silence in thn striio Ar last unable
longer to hear tbo susnonso sbo +in,-
idly onened thn studio door and looked
in. All trace of The defiant ipeo1enco
which made her 50 bewitcbino had
| yonishod and sbe naused suhmissivoly,
awaiting tbe yol,av Of rnnroop which
sho falt ehn so ,.ioblv deservo1 In
steod of this CociI emiIed o+ boboldino
har and adv,ncod IN noot hor and ahe
fo}t half afraid
"Ab thare Won oro ma cherio Coma
and SEQ what same vilI,irors b.pd bos
donnn
~ -, ., Whit, ,,
.,.ast,. w. i,o' "''o" "eieN 5 -r'ne'le' ~ sun
,,,,r ,,o1''G. ~ ~ CoIm '.'-' ,aiino, iooN
pom ,,a1 -,.i, 4on,o.,,, .m, 3"' nave u'i''''