The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1904-08-12

cd away at All order or did her mendIng
Once week he descended tremendously
immacutely clean, but difiusing a strong
odor of paint, and took lunch with her
gravely marveling at the display and
pretending alarm at her recklessness. In.
deed. those luncheonS for two were inva.
riably followed the next day by repast
for one of Spartan simplicity. Once he
had returned her ospitality-heh had sold
a small canvas-and they had dined
sumptuously at one end of his paint.
stained table on lobster outlets and
French peas and asparagus, sent in chill
ed, but appetizing, from the cafe across
the Square. And he had made marvellous
coffee in an old copper kettle, and had
produced bottle of olives. which, he sol
EMMY declared, had been two years
awaiting the occasion.
Usually he called for her at the Insti-
tute in Brooklyn-she still attended an
evening class three times week-and
brought her home. Once they had walk
ed back across the bridge on brisk Win
| ter night, the white stars above them,
the purple lamps advancing and meeting
them along their path, and the lemon
and red and green lanterns twinkling up
from boats and pier heads. That night
she had heard his story. Hehad told her
of a boyhood spent in little town in
western Missouri, of his first dim dissat-
isfaction with his lot and his growing
hatred for toll in his fathers squalid gen.
eral store; how, at his fathers death-his
mothe he had never known-he had
gone TO St. Louis, where he had clerked
by day and studied art by night, until.
with $4,000 saved, he had come to New
York and entered the League. He had
spent three years there, and then had
buried himselfin the Jersey woods, living
like a hermit in hut of his own building,
and painting from dawn to dusk, fair
days and foul.
"And now" he had ended, they're be-
ginning to know me. I've sold Il few can
vases mostly through Rutyer. Rutyer
believes in ME. The thing I'm working
on now is for the Academy. It's going
to take year; but it's good, it's the best
Ihave in me-and it's going to be hung"
ooh, do hope So" she had said ear
nestly
"rve never doubted it." he had an
swered, simply. ITS big stake, but
I'm going to win"
And so that first year had passed, and
the second of their friendship was three
months old. Beth had not been SO happy
for years; the former haunting sensation
of being alone, no longer troubled her.
She had found friend and comrade. The
friendship had grown on the part of each
into an affection; each would have denied
the existence of anything stronger.
One aiternoon-the morrow was the
last day for receiving canvases at the
Academy-he entered her room and sank
silently into his accustomed chair, She
looked up questioningly from the silver
buckle on which she was working.
FINISHED" lie said, gloomily.
Does it go today?
Tomorrow. 1t isn't quite dry yet.
suppose l ought to be glad, but"-he
smiled forlornly-"I only feel rather lone
some" He filled aad lighted his pipe.
"Do you care to See it again ,"
"Oh, yes" she answered, eagerly.
Upstairs he drew aside the following
cloth and laid bare the canvas on which
he had toiled for almost year. 1t was
large, six by four, and undoubtedly an
effort for what might be called
a first picture, yet the result was SO
splendid that the artists faith in its sue.
cess seemed justified He had called it
"August"-a wide, far-reaching expanse
of salt marsh ribboucd with blue, breeze
ruifled water; along the horizon dim, |
purple haze, suggestion but no more of
the city; against the clear sky great !
white thunder clouds rolled high upon
each other in majestic grandeur; over all |
the hot golden sunlight of midsummer. |
Beth could almost feel the heat and see |
the sedgcs in the foreground bend and |
rustic in the sea breeze. The picture al
ways made her hold her breath for a
space, and today the effect was stronger
than ever.
ITS glorious" she whispered, finally. |
"You like it ?" he asked almost eagerly. |
81 love it." But'-she sighed-"how
it makes one hate the city, doesn't it :"
His eyes lighted. "Yes; and we're 60
ing away from the city," he said, with a
ring in his voice. "We're through work |
for today. and were going-there! Get
your things on"
But can't" she faltered, and obeyed.
Outside, he locked the door and handed |
her the key. Il can't trust myself" he
explained. 81 might give you the slip |
and come back and work on it"
That was day of days. Winter reign
cd kindly. They crossed the river and
spent the afternoon in the woods and |
along the edge of the marshes, returning
long after the city was aglow. They had
dinner at a cafe, for when one has finish.
ed picture that is to bring fame and
wealth, econmoy is a sinful thing. Back
in her studio they talked until late, and
life was very kind and sweet.
The windows were gray with the cold |
dawn when he awoke suddenly and
stared about him. In moment he was |
out of bed and had thrown open the hall |
door. Smoke, thick and sitting drifted |
in. At the bottom OF the staircase well, |
orange light danced and glowed. Throw
ing his clothes on, he lifted the picture
from the easel and staggered with it
down the first fight. The smoke made
him choke and gasp. The next flight was
miles long. At the bottom he dropped |
The picture, and asst toppled against the
baluster lie leaped to Beth's door and |
knocked loudly.
who is there :" came the question at
once.
ITS Mr. Timson The house is on fire |
There's no danger, of course, but YOU
must come quickly"
Eyes" she answered family.
He buried his face i'll his elbow, leaning |
against the wall. Once he started impet-