Montour American. (Danville, Pa.) 1866-1920, 1906-12-13

the descent Of such Il radiant young
god3ess as this he had no doubt but
what Air. ASquirh lived in state of
perpetual expectancy.
Helen" werl CUicllly upstairs. At ths
second fight there was no landing.
The top step ended abruptly at u door.
and luc ceiling sIoped in an angle to
meet the l0p o. the door. She lifted
The oil fash ned latch and looked in.
her heart h,.,ting faster. The studio
was emuty.
10. an instant she hesitated. She
had never been in his studio. 1t seem
ed Ike an iu.rusion into some intimate,
pcr> la, Jar Jf his lie In which she.
with ll hi. 'pyc for her, had no share.
Bu, b.rrEl-e OF that rcry privacy she
wanted D., ir rude. She wanted 10 see
how ne liycd. here in his own little den
where hr d,J his work. the work that
was TO win him fame ana fortune be-
fore the world. the tea where he
dreamed his dreams Of the future In
which she had so great share.
She pushed the door farther open,
llfte! Ler soft light skirt Of silk higher
from The dusty stair and went into the
studio. closing rhe door after her.
II was q half ceiled attic, the nearest
approach To- Il Partisan ateliec that AS
quith could fad in New York. There
was a skyiight in the high peaked roof,
and wide. heavy cross beams visible TO
the naked eye marked the caves line.
There WAS no burlap on the walls, no
Turkish rugs On the floor, no Dutch
shelves nor stens. not even !. taboret
or sam0var II was simply work
shop. 4 huge black walnut easel stood
cros5wise, facing the north light. Be-
fore II stood a rush bottomed chair and
a low table Uttered with brushes, paint
tubes and half mixed colors. A dingy.
well daubed blouse lay over The back
OF the chair and pipe half smoked
rested on the easel ledge. Helene saw
1t all at one gEiure and laughed joyous
", TREMENDOUSLY. She had never felt her
self SO near 10 him as new. What a
boy he was, after all, and how funny
he must look in that old blouse. She
sat down in the rush bottomed chair
and leaned her head back against the
sleeve of the blouse.
The walls were bare except for half
finished charcoal and pen and ink stud
It's, Win nero anu ITIUro q vutSi vvivi'
The black and white studies were
strange to her. but the landscapes all
bore the same struggling signature,
Hugh Asquith.
That was all. Not single Venus, not
cast of anything In sight. Asquith
was strictly . landscape artist and did
not paint the figure. Vaguely she had
been pleased that he did not OF course
If one were devoted to art and must
paint the figure. then one must have
models. ana models must necessarily
lie beautiful, and
Right there Hclene's logic ended, but
II was sut'i cient. She was glad that
AsGulth was a Landscape artist and did
not require any model save old Mother
Nature.
She drew otT her long ulousque taire
gloves with sigh Of content On the
third finger IF her left hand sparkled
diamond. It had been there over a
month nov With q sudden impulse rs
the gloves s'''pe' 10 the foor she press,
t.l tie rilg agail.t Eor lip. 1t stood
for SO. much moe Ha" more engas y
ment They had ir~".G tICa other =
long time. two seasons, and she had
met him every winter at dinners and
swell dances. But this sammer 1t had
been different. AsGu!ih said 1t was
fate. Helene thought it the most dell
ctou- lit Of nanoHvering love had ever
managed.
Tie .-t d.. IL" family had gone 70