Pike County press. (Milford, Pa.) 1895-1925, 1903-09-25

WAS is ONE IN 4 lREAN
~ MYRTLE REED.
A CRISIS IN THE CAREER OF ZOE
HAYWARD.

HAYWARD.
People said that Joe Hayward's
pictures lacked something" No one
was sure what II was, Even the critics,
who know everything, we're at loss.
Hayward himself worked hard; study
ing the masters, patiently correcting
faults in color and perspective, and
succeeding after a fashion But he
felt that art, in its highest and best
sense, was utterly beyond hlm there
was a haunting elusive something
which was continually out of bis
reach.
Occasionally, when he sold a pic
ture. he would give "a time to
dozen artist chums from studios near
by, as they did whenever fortune fay
ored them; after which he would pain
again on and on, with a really tire
mendous perseverance.
At length he obtained permission to-
make an exhibition of his work IN
single room at the Art Gallery. The
pictures were only ten In number, and
some of them were small, but they
represented a hard years work. When
he superintended the hanging, on Sat
urday morning. he was more nearly
happy than he had ever been in his
life. The placard on the door, ''The
Hayward Exhibition VIII Open Mon
day filled him with pleasure. It was
not a conceited feeling of Importance,
but rather happy consciousness that
he had done his best
At last he was suited with the ar
rangement. The man went out with
the ladder and wire, and he stood in
the center of the room, contemplating
the result. The landscape in the cor
ner might be a little out of drawing,
he thought. but the general public
would not notice that. And the wo-
man In white beside 1t, which he had
chrlstened Purity" certainly showed
to very good advantage. He remem-
bered very well the day he had put
the finishing touches upon II, after the
night of revelry in which he had
helped jennings and a dozen other
fellows from neighboring studios to
celebrate the sale of Jenningss STUDY
Of a Head" and how he had thought
at the time that he, who spent such
nights, had no business to paint a
figure like this Of Purity"
As he turned to leave the room. he
saw a gray gowned young woman,
who evidently did not know that the
pictures were not as yet upon public
view. She passed him as she came in,
with rustic of silken skirts and a
cooling Odors Of violets. Seeing the
key of the room in his hand, she
turned to him and said:
pardon me, but can you tell me
whose pictures these are7'
''These are Hayward's," he replied
Hayward" she repeated after him
as If the name were wholly new to
her.
Hayward Is a young artist and Of
purely local reputation" he explained
'sThis is his first public exhibition"
She surveyed the collection without
any strong show of pleasure, until he
remarked, "YOu don't seem to think
much Of his beginning"
She was prompt in her answer. "No
do not. They seem to lack some
thing"
He sighed inwardly. That old old
''somethingF' Hayward's pictures al
LACKED somethins,'' as was commonly
said of them; but what that something
was, his intimates his fellow artists
were not the kind to know
''What is It, do you thinkr h'
asked.
II don't know" she replied slowly
IF one knew the man, one might b'
able to tell"
For the first time she looked hin
full In the face. He saw nothing bui
her eyes, clear and honest, reading
him through and through.
'Yes," he answered, III you knew
the man, think you could tell"
'I'm not at all sure" she laughed
TITS only a fancy Of NINE"
Drawing a watch from her belt, sht
looked surprised and turned away. HI
listened until the silken rustic hat
completely ceased. Then lie too wen
out. On the stair he found hand
kerchief. II was edged with lace, deli
cately scented with violet, and min
utely marked in the corner; "Con
stance Grey"
On Sunday night the studio building
where Hayward and others painte,
gloWed with light. The morrow
opening Of ''The Hayward Exhibition
was being celebrated with "a time
at the expense OF the artist Glasse
clinked and the air was heavy will
smoke. Two women from yaudeyill
theatre near by made merry upon al
impromptu stage. Everybody wa
happy except Hayward. The owner o
the handkerchief was in his mind. n
felt that those eyes Of hers, gray, dee
and tender though they were, nigh
blaze with anger at a scene like this
The handkerchief had no place in sucl
an atmosphere. ae went over to hi
bookcase and put it between the leave
OF his Tennyson, smiling rs he caugh
the words on the opposite page:
"a man had given all other bliss
And all his worldly worth for this;
10 waste his whole heart in one kis
Upon her perfect lips"
her handkerchief would feel NOR
at home there, though, as he close
the book. he wondered what she woul
say.
A quick eye had followed him, an
soon afterWard its owner JennlngI
took occasion TO examine the volume
He waved the handkerchief aloft tr
umphantly. "Heigho, fellowsl Hal
wafd's got a new mark for his clothei
Look here Constance Greyr
Hayward was shaken with a min