Shiner gazette. [volume] (Shiner, Tex.) 1893-current, 1908-11-12

IOontinued from former pagel


were marvelous-he had not
hoped to catch that perfect ex-
preston in their yearning dark
ness-something that would at
tract the most casual observer,
something that would bring the
ache to the throat of any wo-
man who looked upon it and un-
derstood. Had he known how to
call that light into life? Had he
indeed done it-knowing that
the torch must be applied to
the heart before it glows in the
eyes?
"It is beautiful" he said in
hushed tones. 81 did not dream
it would turn out so. You know
we wretched artist people can
never put down upon actual cam
vass the beautiful imaginings
that haunt us always-that is,
not once in a hundred years."
From her seat upon the old log
she looked at it-yes, it was like
gazing into a mirror-even her
untaught young soul realized
and appreciated-and respected
the touch of master-for the
thing was indeed perfect, and
then again came that thrilling
thought-she had helped him
he would never forget her, he
would ALWAYS. He was speak
ing, "The eyes-the lips-they
look as if they could speak"
She glanced at him. He was
gazing at the picture-he had
forgotten her, altogether.
She drew a little away and he
turned toward her with a start
then he smiled good humored-
ly. "Do you know what they
will give me for that Kate 2"
said he, more money than l
ever had before-quite a fortune
"What will you do with it?"
she asked him.
"Oh," said he, laughing, II
shall find plenty to do with it
] should like to go back to Paris
and study and study. Is there
couldn't. I-surely there is
something I could do for you
before | go? I've left something
with Ben Carr to be handed to
you after | go, but L"
"Go?" she interrupted her
face had grown white. "Go?"
eyes," said he, quietly, but
he did not look towards her. II
mean go home, you know-and
then to Paris-if I can. Prob
ly | shall never see you again
but ! thank you"
She was silent-the light had
died-that glow that had kind
led in the soul and famed in
the eyes-it was only ashes,
now, and the grey pa!lor of it
settled down upon her face.
She did not watch him go,
now-her gaze still rested up
on the dead leaves at her feet,
she seemed unable to move,
somehow, and there was a
strange numbness in all her
limbs; they utterly refused to
move. She longed to spring to
her feet, to cry out, to fling her
arms above her head, to throw
hereslf face downward among
the dry leaves, but all power of
movement was denied her, her
very lips seemed parched and
paralyzed. The sun rose high
er, it's rays flashed on the wa
ter as ttrickled from the
spring-the little bird came
again to drink, and the little
frog watcher her with its wet,
twinkling eyes. There was no
sound but the occasional chirp
of a cricket, and the stick" of
the falling leaves.
The sun reached the meridian
passed it, and began going
down. Wagons rumbled along
the turn pike, and as one clat-
tered loudly over the little
bridge just around the bend OF
the creek she moved slightly,
and lifting her arms she pushed
the hair away from her face,
Her feet, when she stood up,
felt heavy and queer and not as
if they belonged to her at all
She wondered, vaguely, if she
would remember the way up the
path, homeward, or if home
would be hwere she left it this
morning. Was tt this morning.