The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1905-07-13

they were foolish. For q moment the
two friends faced each other; then
Jennings apologized and then Hay
ward. In sparkling champagne they
drank to good fellowship again. But
the incident was not without certain
subtle effect upon the celebration, and
at l o'clock Hayward sat alone by his
easel, his head buried in his hands, a
dainty handkerchief upon his lap and
before him the rapidly sketched out.
line OF a face.
He knew now why Jennings had an
gered him. The shaft of light from a
woman's eyes, which once strikes keep
into the soul of every man, had at last
come home to him.
The opening" was auspicous.
Wealth and art alike were well repre-.
sented
Toward the end of the evening
lady who had once sat for a portrait
came up to him.
"Mr. Hayward" she said, 81 want
you to know my niece"
He followed her into the next room,
where a young lady sat on divan.
Her gray eyes were lifted to his face,
and then suddenly lowered in con.
fusion.
MIR. Hayward" she said. II am so
much ashamed And when he tried
to reassure her she answered: Lets
not talk about it: it's too humiliatlng."
SO they spoke of other things. He
learned that she had come from a dis.
tant city to visit relatives, and the
aunt invited him to call upon them.
Friday afternoon came at last and
Miss Grey and her aunt were at home.
Other Fridays followed, and other days
which served as we'll as Fridays 1t
was seldom that the girl looked him
in the face but when she did so he felt
himself confessed before her-a man
with no right to touch even the hem of
her garment, yet honoring her with
every fiber Of his being.
They were much together, and Con-
stance took a frank enjoyment in his
friendship. He made every effort to
please her, and one day they went into
the country. Constance was almost
childishly happy, but the seeming per-
fectlon of her happiness distressed
him when he learned that in very few
days she was to sail for Europe, pass
the Summer and Autumn in travel, and,
spend the Winter in Paris.
At length they sat down under
gnarled oak tree and watched the
light upon the river and in the sky
After some moments of silence Hay
ward spoke.
81 think you know the man now.
VIII you tell me what his pictures
lack?"
She hesitated. 81 do not know the
man well enough to say but | will
give you my art creed and let you
judge for yourself | believe that
mans art is neither more nor less
than the expression of himself and
that in order to obtain an exalted ex-
preston his first business is with him
self. Wrong living blunts, and eventu-
ally destroys, the fundamental sense
of right and wrong, without which
noble art is impossible. When mans
art is true, it is because he himself is
first and an artist afterward."
Hayward took the admonition with a
worshipper's meeknesS Their CONVEX
satiOn ended with his declaration that
he would not paint again until he had
in himself worthy to put
into the picture.
You'll help me, won't you?" he
asked.
Her eyes filed. Indeed l will, if
only can
He went home with loves fever in
his veins She had promised to help
him, and surely there was only one
way. He wrote her hasty note. and
an hour later his messenger brought
her reply:
Believe me, never dreamed of this,
and You know what my answer must
be; but | do not need to tell you that
whatever honest friendship can offer
is already yours.
with deep regret, am, as ever,
CONSTANCE GREY"
The grim humor OF the thing
him momentarily, and he
laughed harshly. Then he flung m
self down in a passion of grief. In
the morning he took pen and paper
again, after a night of sleepless dis
tress.
You cannot mean what you say.
That white, womanly soul of yours must
wa 'te to love me some day. You have
stood between me and the depths, and
there has been no shame in the life
that | offer you since you came into it,
Oh, you perfect thing, you perfect
thing, you don't know what you are to
me! Constance, let me GOMEZ"
The answer was promptly forthcom-
ing:
II cannot promise what you ask but
you may come and see me II you
wish"
Pale with expectancy Hayward
was only the ghost of himself when
the servant admitted him. He had
waited but a moment when Constance
ho In, ba -, ,oL