The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1905-10-16

canvas with a sigh and lay
- ing down his palette on the
small Moorish table that
held his brushes and colors.
His sole companion, his pupil
looked at him for a moment with as
Constituent and CONSERVATION.
.'The sunlight is lovely. she said;
ext IS as bright as MONDAY"
'.Nonsensei" exclaimed the artist
eve shall soon be having to light the
lamps No more work for today. The
time flies all too quickly We viii
resume our sittings tomorrow The
days die early
why. it is only JULY" gasped the
pupil; might never really comes un-
til nine in July"
But it is dark now" reiterated the
painter querulously. Il can see it,
can feel it."
The beautiful young face Of the pu-
pill all Of a sudden seemed to draw
that darkness to itself on this bright
July afternoon. For shadow-the
shadow of an awful apprehension
fell over it like a falling blind and
quenched the hope and happiness and
youth that had so recently enhanced
its charms.
she rose from her seat. and ap-
preached the painter.
He was sitting with his face turned
towards the lofty window through
which the rich late sunshine was
flooding in a mass of golden bars and
his eyes were wide open and turned
towards the glory of the ripened day.
But something terrible IN their dead
and Iustreless stare convinced her
that the day was indeed dark to him
and growing darker and darker yet
You are tired, master" she said
gently. you work too hard. You
must give your eyes a rest
In a moment the man had risen,
thrusting his slender paint-stained
fingers through his grizzled hair, and
crying out like one stabbed to the
Don't say that it's light! Don't
say that you can see! Don't say that
my eyes are failing mel"
He seized her in a frenzied grip,
dragging her towards where the sun
fell through the rich foliage of the
garden.
'.Ten me-" he almost shrieked, tell
me that this dimness is the dimness
of twilight Tell me that it's late
that a thunder-cloud is overhead
that it's foggy, anything you like; but
for Heavens sake, don't say that my
eyesight is falling me-!
your eyes require rest, replied
the girl gently. and striving to lead
the artist away from the window.
Suddenly Robert Seton grew calm
you are very kind, my dear" he
said quietly resuming his seat and
feeling for the chair as he did SO.
- on are very kind, and prepare me
udercifulIy for what I must face. 4
am going blind. God help mel"
Then this grey-haired man. with his
heart still young, and his brain still full
Of strength and fancy, covered his face
with his hands and cried as only a
strong man can cry.
His every word stabbed like a knife
as she stood and watched him in his
agony and in her secret heart she
1onged to claim the right to draw down
his head upon her breast, and breathe
the words of comfort and sOlace that
are the prerOgatives of mother. wife,
OF sister.
How does it progress ?" he asked
presently, lifting his head in tired
way.
IT'S glorious. MASTER she whisper
ed reverently, just as one whispers of
q Raphaels Madonna, or a saints
martyrdOm, or hero's death.
THE face Of Hamlet is speaking
one, I fancy"
"Of course it is. master. A speaking
likeness of yourself
"Ahl without the grey hair, though.
And the Ophelia ?"
@Vvhy. master. the figure is superb.
But the face-why have you never
finished the face2 1t is nothing but a
blur. daub"
The thin fingers trembIed, and FUN
bled about amongst the color-tubes
and brushes on the Moorish table.
II cannot conceive Ophelia yet" he
murmured. IT want a very beautiful
face. such a face as my Hamlet could
really love. I have not found it vet"
Had the sun been sinking, one might
have fancied that his red rays were
now reflected on the girls soft cheeks.
But the sun was not sinking; his COun-
tenance was still ripe and golden.
At last the painter rose with q slight
shudder. as though it were cold.
MY dear he said gently. ct am
q Fr-af q m 70 no 7 mil
close work for the day, and resume
resume-when God thinks fit to take
my darkness from me"
you will send for a doctor. mas
fer2" said the girl anxoiuslv. you
promise to send for a doctor %
The artist turned quickly towards
her. Something in the earnest tone Of
her voice set his heart beating. and
oro,ugnt the red blood surging to his
palid face Words-strange. passion
ate words-were already bubbling to
his Inns. and in another moment he
would have spoken; but, as with the
icy touch of a dead finger there recur-
red to him the fact of his impending
calamity and apprOachin blindness
and, with a sigh. he stified his words
and kept their secret hidden in his
breast
With trembling fingers he put away
his colors and brushes. This he did
solemnly like one who felt he might
nave no further use for them. Then.
the girl having put on her hat and
cloak. he conducted her across the
stately hall to the front door
"Goodby, my dear" he said. lifting
his tired and dazed gaze for one mo-
ment 70 the sea Of sunshine that was
beautifully bathing the world
Not goodby. master she answered.
with an ISSUED cheerfulness. ssI shall
see you in the morning."
where's the use, child?'' he cried
irritably MY box of tools is put
away MY time for rest has come.
have nothing more to teach you"
The dinness of his own eyes never
allowed him to see the dimness in
hers; and her voice was SO calm that
nothing Of the pain in her heart tren-
bled IN its tones.
So he did not learn at this. the dark
est moment Of his life. what might
have made il the brightest and hap
piest for all life to come.