The Forrest City times., 1908-12-25
SHE IS MARY-GOLD
BY EDITH RICkERT
Copyright, by Bobbs- Merrill co1

NS~a " &aNH Af etol dlNGl year on
 Vanishing day at the academy. about Culbertson and his Yellow Girl?' No? After all, it's not worth repeating. but the facts behind ft- well. perhaps they are.
 For man of distinct ability. my far-away cousin Culbertson was slow | enough to get on. lie was close upon thirty when. after half dozen fail ures. he managed to get into Burling- ton house, with the portrait of a strik- ing girl. To be sure, it was sllied in the small room devoted to undiscov- cred genius; Culbertson was pleased enough to drag me there-much against my will for I hate being polite at the expense of truth
 There she is, Ethel" he cried. looking as if he were ten years young. CT Now be nice fer once" But l judged 1t kinder to be cold Why didn't you tell her to wash her face?' Then I tried fo get decent light on the production. 'Is she freckled or what"
 Come to the studio tomorrow and you shall sec" he flung at me like a challenge; and as 1 always kept an eye on my cousins love affairs, being genuinely anxious that he should mar ry well when he did marry. | broke an engagement to accept his invita- tion.
 She was already there when I ar rived trying to collect enough tea. things out of Culbertson's odd pieces or china and silver to serve for us three. My first thought was that she seemed very much at home. Then Gulbertsen introduced us Ethel. this is Mary-Gold. Mary, Ethel wants to know why you didn't wash your face?"
 Then l said, quite honest in my ad- mlratlon: And he calls that yellow splash at the academy a portrait of you!"
 She answered us both together:
 It's the freckles, you see; and they won't wash off. And my name isn't Gold, as you might think"
 No, gold's her nature, and that's why l call her so," said Culbertson, and his face, when he looked at her, gave him away completely. When I went away first he shut the door softly behind us and looked at me for my opinion.
 Of course" said l. a little nettled thnt he had kept his secret so well. 'T may congratulate you?r
 He shrugged. but whether he then could not tell the truth or only would not say, do not know.
 Shell come around" said I.
 No, said he, and could not quite keep tragedy out of his face, she's said 1t and she won't. But I've got 10 paint her, you see if I'm to get on; and she knows that, so she's willing to be friends"
 l shook my head, but was afraid to express my disapproval in words. Of course, the situation was impossible and l was curious to see how it would develop,
 It developed into a series of most curious pictures hung year after year at the Royal academy-picture which set us all to guessing what was the actual state of affairs.
 The year after the smudge." as nicknamed his first accepted picture he had an Autumn-no rain, no falling leaves, no pretty sentiment; but a great swirl of passionate color just frosted by the nearness of death. The year after came Nemesis. I believe that 1 saw scarcely a favorable criticism of the Judas Tree. although nearly every journal-and that was a good sign-secmed impelled to notice 1t. But "Decadence" loomed large in their utterance. I grant it was per- haps mad idea to paint a woman as | tree; but in some fashion he made the thing so that one could not tell where tree began and woman ended She was dressed in some dark velyetv thing, her body twisted and her arms thrown up unevenly to simulate branches. and her hair as a wealth of purple blossom: and from one of her branches she dangled man-here ] the critics had their best laugh-not | actually hanging him. but sirangling him with a knotted cord. so that lie lay in a heap on the earth.
 Here's pretty work said to my self. What has she done to him? This grows interesting" Several times during the year I tried to see my cousin, but chance or fate or his own will prevented. was not greatly surprised after that to learn that my cousin had left town abruptly, without saying good by to any one, and was supposed to be travelling in the far east. Ii was three years before I had any definite news of him; and that came only in the form of a small picture at Burlington house. The next year he sent nothing to the academy. hut I saw notice of a small collection of his etehings to be seen in a priyate gallery. They were all studies of the Syrian desert, and I came away with sense of escape from nightmare. After that-it seems incredible heard nothing for four years. Then