Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1905-12-30
Antoine'S
Marie
By Virginia Leila Wentz


leather leggings. his easy costume. his
fishing basket and tackle. Paul Blake
strobe along through the dew wet Cana
dian grass. lie knew of a certain deep
hollow In the brook which on such q
gray moist day rs this would be the
haunt OF juicy trout. and for the sheer
JOY of expectation he whistled. For
equal To Blakes love for the art OF
painting was his love for the. sport Of
| fishing lie was not only enjoying his
summer gathering French Canadian
landscapes; he was revealing In his ia
vOrite sport as we'll
After an hour of successful fishing In
the quiet spot which lie had selected
he spied splendid trout tucked cozily
uIrAer stone. But IL was written In
the book of fate that this fish and the
frying pan should not lightly be
brought together Fly after fly was
thrown In vain. Down through the
| crystal clear water he could see the
sleek sides and the round, unspecula
tive eye of his intended victim, and he
resolved to try the method of tickling.
So he undid his sleeve links. barred
his arm and knelt upon the lichens.
clinging with one hand to nm ovcrhang-
ing birch. lie was dipping cautiously
toward the water when there In the
pool before him. close to the reflection
of his own, flashed another face.
II was n girls face, and in its I'M
usual lovcliness Il lay for second like
some magic picture. The next second
Blake observed with thrill that tho
vision was being changed by the cur
rent and that his own blond curls We're
made TO trcspass gently over the girls
dark ones Then while he gazed ut the
reflection with Narcssus-like intent
ness the other face vanished rs sudden
| ~ as 1t had come.
Springing to his feet. Blake perceived
the bent trunk of an alder which pro-
| jccted across the stream from the top
OF the bank above. and he knew that
the girl must have been leaning over
| the trunk from that higher bank, uncon-
scious of his presence. until. like n
startled deer. she fled
"She was like one of Murillo's gypsy
eyed Madonnas. he exclaimed. And.
though he went ON for awhile longer
with his trout fishing, the sport seemed
| to have lost II bit of flavor.
, The next day Paul Blake drew up his
horse before the kitchen door OF
whitewashed farmhouse. and Antoine
Martin rose To greet him.
"l.ienvenue. 'sieu." said he. with old
French hospitality. and will m'sieu
dismount!'
Blake lid dismount. and as he stood
| In the wide doorway he tried 10 ac-
count for his presence. lie was
painter. forsooth. ana doing this section
of Canada. lie had already collected
good many views. but among them
all there was not one more wonderful
than that which could be obtained from
the level plateau ON which .Antoine's
farm stood. II was as II the hills had
here withdrawn TO leave an arena for
some great spectacle. some ancient
savage pageant. Might he, therefore.
be permitted TO fetch his easel and
palette and TO put upon canvas the har-
mony and beauty OF II all:
Blake saw the 1.-THE figure OF girl
sitting opposite to him, her arms upon
the table. her dimpled face with the
Murillo eyes framed In both hands. her
scarlet lips parted In GREATNESS listen
ing, hanging upon his words. All. luck
was with him, To be sure II he had
/ t.nSfnr1nH ha had f0nn1
the girl today.
| "Cone here cherie." said old Antoine
| 10 the girl. and TO the stranger. MY
niece. Marie"
but. you little water spriie, you lit
tie Undine. however did you get your
face so mixed up with mine that day
| In the pool:" Blake asked one morning
as Marie stood watching him at work
on his canvas.
"Eh, bien, m'sieu, hal gone out for
| a piQue- nique on the barrens, and-ra-
masse les oranges what you call pick
berries" she answered In her quaint
English speech. eked out with bits OF
patois here and there Then she ex-
planned how she'd leaned over the
trunk of the tree from the bank above
to wash her stained fingers; how. just
as she was In the act Of dipping down.
she had seen his reflection In the wa
| ter and was startled.
| Between the strokes of his brush
Blake took surreptitious glances ut the
wIllowy figure. half holding back the
apple boughs ms she talked. half swing
| ing ON them. Rebel locks had broken
out OF confinement and were curling
damply about her warm. white neck
and that crumpled rose leaf OF an ear.
All. she was exquisitely delightful.
That same day he said TO Antoine:
III you would permit Mile. Marie to
cit to me. and II Mile. Marie will con-
sent"-he questioned the Murlllo eyes.
which silently gave him his answer.
then fell beneath his own-'I could do
| n painting that was worth while"
So the August days passed till the
brief Canadian summer was over. Al
ready they had started TO hurp the