Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1909-11-10

The matchmaking mother courte-
sled low and with cOmpressment to
the richest and most influential man
in London.
Talking as they went they took up
their position by the fire.
Lopd Marmion's tongue ratified on
Sir Richard Wildfang joined in a
manner delightfully."- soft and pleasing.
His eyes wandered around the room
taking In the extravaganza of the dec
orations. the magnificence of the fur
niture.
He glanced at the worldly mother,
and, so to speak, smiled in his sleeve.
The game was really too easy, the
prey too feeble. He saw his road to
success plain and facile before him;
he saw
The door opened and some one Gid
ed in.
1t was Stella
She paused.
Sir Richard turned and met her
eyes.
Why did his shrink with an express
sion almost of fear.
Why did hers fix themselves for an
instant on his dark, masterful face,
then lower themselves to conceal a
sudden dislike and dread?
Pace onward, Time, and let forth
coming events reveal how true was
woman's instinct, how dastardly was
the cowardice of dishonesty.
CHAPTER III.
The Sculptor's Den.
Oh love is painted as boy,
With wicked bow and arrow,
And whose feels that pretty toy,
Sure, his escapes most narrow!
The lamplighters fitting from Hyde
Park Corner carried their ministra-
tons to humber streets and poorer
abodes.
| One of them lighted a dingy lamp,
in a street near Soho Square, and so
| threw a garish CLEAN into the window
of first-foor room, which over
looked-not the pleasant freshness of
the park-but row of other rooms in
houses dingy and ugly as its own.
Let us ascend the narrow, ill-lighted
stairs, and enter that room.
A strange room to one entering as
a stranger, an astonishing one.
The four walls are painted black,
and devoid of ornament.
A few articles of furniture, all plain
and well worn, are crowded to one
RI 1o1io1 yn
articles which evidently to the owner
of the apartment are of greater i'm
| portance.
These are life-sized statues, busts,
and wood carvings in all stages of
progress from rough hewn to exquis-
tie finish.
One, beautiful nymph, rising from
crested wave, stands ON a raised
dias in the center of the room, and
so arranged that the light falls full
upon that portion of the marble where
the face will be when it's creator shall
/ cut it. '~-~---
Before the unfinished statue stands
a youth whose form might have
I caught it's grace from the lifeless fig
ures around it.
The face is turned from the light,
the hands-long, thin and womanly
white ones-are hard at work; the
sculptor is lost in his dreamland.
Suddenly the chisel faltered in the
practiced hand, the mallet was poised
with indecision and doubt.
The next instant the tools dropped
from the masters hands, and he
turned, revealing the same face which
had turned inquiringly to the gaze OF
beautiful Stella Newton.
He pushed his soft, silky hair from
his forehead, and looked up at his IN
finished work.
mo use, l can do no more tonight
fair nymph; your face must wait
must wait until my disordered ant
truant fancy can return to thee. VIVA
has happened to me today? /, Louis
FELTON,, am usually as calm and I'm
passable as my own cold marbles; II
7 fact. am not we'll fed enough to hav'
! hot blood, and feverish pulse, blu
. tonight, 1 can feel the life's ful'
j tearing through my veins DIT race
a horse speed, making my hand III
steady and my fancy but tickle Jad
5 that jigs to the pipe of my imagina
}. ton! And wherefore?? Oh, fie III
y on me for an cratic idiot! All for
! passing glimpse of a girls beautlfu
face. Tell me, We gods of my own ere
9 alton, have not seen many? Do no
4 live in the atmosphere of grace an
< beauty?
t And he turned with mock homag
) to his statues, who seemed possesse
# of life's reason and appeared to lii
( ten with calm interest.
"Ah, but what beauty it was; nc
r like yours, imperial Juno, though M
d thinks there was touch OF you
e brides fire in her eyes; not your
2 either, wood nymph, Phyllis, thoug
the freshness of forest violet hovere
g on her cheek; nor yours oh, Galate
t, sea maiden, though the myst
o brine of natures freedom rustled tt
tresses of her hair and shadowed tt
e glory of her sweet, soft brow!