Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1908-01-17

OF instruction he says-abOut the gay
life people lead in great cities. But
| don understand it. ! am afraid of il.
Just look at me. I'm abominably
dressed, know. How would | l0ok and
| feel IN fine clothes and jewels? Oh, I'm
horribly afraid, and can you guess whom
III be more AFRAID OF than any one on
eaFth!'
Whom?" Mas asked in astonish-
ment, for he knew she dominated COM
pletely her stern, fine-looking uncle, and
he had seen her drive a dangerous team
with reckless comp2snre over the worst
| would you be afraid OFF, he asked in
| eredulously.
My maid Gertrude answered
promptly in a stage whisper. "particu-
larry if she is French. DO you know.
| | practice giving orders to try 10 get
used to the idea. l told uncle | posi-
tiyely will not have a maid. But he
says L must. That it wouldn't do at
all for me to refuse to have one. That
III grow used TO having the horrid
thing around. He says she will sleep
| III the next room next TO mine in case 1
might need her. Fancy Ii will be aw-
! full | do wish | could be allowed to
live here with uncle-just us two-and
the servants-for ten more years. If
you will come back next summer, why,
would be perfectly happy. | will take
yours and uncle's version of the bean
monde, and be perfectly content to keep
out of it,
She was simply gowned as usual, but
her air was regal, and whatever the
cause which held her hidden from the
world, Max could plainly see that her
lines would be widely divergent some
day from her simple life of the hour.
Would she be carried across seas to
the land of her birth, beyond the reach
and ken of an American artistg
must paint your portrait" he said
suddenly.
But Gertrude shook her head
My uncle will not consent. He has
never let me have photograph taken.
Miss Madison begged me to give her
one, but uncle said no. l had to give
her locket instead. Why do you want
a portrait of me?'
Max did not explain, but laughed
grimly at the idea that her uncle could
prevent his having her dear face with
its Infinite loneliness on canvas if he
wanted it..
Don't let us spoil this pleasant after
noon by thinking of the tiresome fu-
ture," Gertrude said, flashing a bright
smile at Max. Come and see if my
clouds are not transparent. When you
are gone | will spend my days painting,
| will work hard all winter and will ac-
complish wonders by the time you come
back next June. You will be sure to
come backg" Gertrude asked, turning to
Max with a troubled look which soften
ed into a tremulous smile.
Il will miss you terribly when you are
gone" she added softly. What a de-
lightful summer we have had. And
how fast it has flown. On swallows
wings"
Max leaned forward and taking
away the brush, EMBODIED her hand in
both of his.
Yes the golden hours have fitted
away, my dearest and you and | will
soon be parted unless dream l have
dreamed comes true"
"A dream? What was t?" Gertrude
asked, paling, slight mist softening the
glory of her eyes.
II dreamed that you and l would
never part-not even in Paradise. That
you would consent to share an artist
home. and that our life was as beauti-
full as your fair and exquisite self |
dreamed" Max drew her gently to-
wards him--but, with a low cry, Ger
trude turned away.
Her. uncle came up the. little path
humming strange, weird air and
paused in the doorway.
I'm late, | know. You must excuse
me. ] was detained in town by. impor-
tant mail Come. Gertrude child. Have
you put up your paints? The horses
are impatient. Give me your easel.
That's a good canvas. Very good. You
have made her clever artist, Mr.. Penn
berton. We both owe you thanks. Good
evening. Come, Gertrude"
II will see you tomorrow" Max whis-
pered holding her hand iingeringly.
She turned toward him as she fol-
lowed the tall gray-haired man, her UNI
Gle. with a passionate gesture of love
and sorrow.
The sound of the horses quick trot
on the hard road soon died away.
[ That NIGHT Nav dreamed his dreams
with a strange foreboding. In the morn
ing the little town was stirred by the
news which reached Max when a mes
senger came with a letter.
1t was one of thanks from Gertrudes
uncle for the admirable lessons he had
kindly consented to give his niece dur
ing the summer. A very large check
was enclosed, and a friendly message
from Gertrude. Max tore the letter
and check to pieces.
In the little town, people said Ger
tfude and her uncle had left by an early
morning train for New York. They
were going abroad. An official, looking
document had arrived the day before
addressed to Count Vladimir Sternvelt,
, and Gertrude was great parsonage.
She was countess and betrothed to an
important member of the nobility. She
mad been kept in hiding in America all
these years for political reasons. Now
she had come to her own and was to be
. presented at court. Her marriage
would be great event.
In the little town the simple pastoral
life of its inhabitants went on, each alb
sorbed in his daily cares and interests.
The beautiful foreign girl was soon for
gotten.
The artists dream was shattered and
perhaps his most poignant grief was the
recollection of Gertrudes last look How
near he had been to happiness!
A year later the world raved over the
nortrait of an unknown countess, paint
ed by great American artists. Rhett
} Roman in the New Orleans Times-Demo-
erat.