Evening star., 1909-02-06


his studio in the distant city. And then
began the curious development which
makes this not at all the narrative OF
Henry CLOVIS dreams and struggles. but
Of Jim Glow and his wife.
The beginning was in that summer
when Henry painted The Brook" Dur
ing preceding winter one Of his pictures
had taken a prize and had been sold for
a thousand dollars and the CLOVIS began
for the first time to have a respect for
Henrys work. Jim frequently paused In
his labor that summer to go behind his
boy and watch with puzzled wonder the
incomprehensible masses of color that
appeared roughly here and there. The
rudcly outlined course of the brook had
no perspective to him as yet. nor was
his unframed eye able to carry field and
rock and trec and hill to their relative
places upon the picture. He noted with
particular perplexity that just below the
white and gray Of the steep little rumb
ling shadows there was a great oval sec
ton painted almost exactly like the sky
blended white-and he could not under
stand it. 1t was all a jargon to him. but
he came back to the canvas again and
ture was done and Henry was putting
some finishing touches to the foreground,
he hurried to the house and got his wife.
At last he saw the pool OF clear. pellucid
water rejecting the blue and white of
the sky above 1t, and she must see it.
too.
1t was two summers later that, when
Henry came home, he handed to his
mother a folded parchment. 1t was deed
for the broad acres Of rich bottom-land
just across on the other side Of the creek
into which the brook emptied-the very
acres for which Jim had hopelessly longed
all his life. Their appreciation of art
took another bound. Why. the money for
this great purchase had been literally
wrested from field and tree and hill and
sky. Sometimes both the man and the
woman found themselves pausing to look
at those things as II they were startIinSly
new objects. They were growing old now.
and this comfort and plenty with which
Henry had provided them brought a
measure OF peace and gentleness as well.
just as 1t brought them an altered per-
spective OF Henry himself.
why. when he was just q little
shaver Jim would mildly boast to the
neighbors, 'he used to set by the hour
n look at the clouds n trees n things!
Course I lowed him ter hev paints n
brushes n time to practice till he got to
be what he Ia now
I'VE a1lus know'd there was suthin' in
Henry" Mrs. Glow would pridefully add.
and they really believed it.
AS the fame OF the artist grew, so grew
their pride in him and In his work. They
even began to pay some attention to other
pictures than Henry's: but the real burst
ing Of the chrysalis came one summer
evening just after the boy-their boy
had gone back to New York. Jim was
sitting on the kitchen steps, musing out
across the valley. but scarce knowing the
trend Of his own thoughts. whom the mir
acle happened and the scales fell from
eyes that had been unseeing for a life
time.
Maggie, come out here" he called
softly. as one speaks when they fear that
a baby may change its pose or rare
bird may fly away.
Wondering at the awe in his tone she
came, and he pulled her gently down be-
side him on the steps.
Look" he half-whispered. directing her
see tibet. now.''
All the evening the western sky had
hung low. full of tumbled and shredded
dark-gray clouds. though just above the
hilltops was long, hazy. clear space. Like
a great, glowing crimson ball the sun
dropped slowly across this narrow strip.
from cIoud-edge to horizon. AS they
looked. absorbed. fascinated, the scarlet
slowly blended in a transition to ruddy
gold, and in the deeper recesses Of the
clouds. where blue-gray had acted as a
foil for the bright red, came exquisite
violet tints. Slowly the vast panorama of
color went on; then suddenly. as If light
had been turned OF. the color departed
entirely from the underside Of the clouds.
leaving them dull and dark; but in the
clear strip was left the melting tints of
the afterglow.
Still the couple upon the kitchen steps
sat on. hand in hand, rapt and speechless.
and they were sitting there still when the
first pale star points began to gleam
through the falling dusk. away yonder
where the marvel had disappeared.
They were nearing sixty now, and they
had just seen their first sunset.
Copyright. 19oe)
Next Week: She Pride of the
Camp. By Charles G. D. Roberts.