The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1910-02-11

Sne was now like a brilliant golden
butterfly futtering within his reach
and dazzling him with her beauty
only to fly away in cloud of white
ana gold when he tried to make her
MS own. But the sculptor was Moth
ing oaunted; he had set his heart on
capturing and tanning the beautiful
butterfly, and he felt sure of victory
in the end.
meanwhile he was neglecting his
art, and even the few minutes he did
spend each day in his studio were
thrown away, for he could make no
progress in the statue he was chisel-
ing. The art that was to have made
MIN famous seemed to have deserted
MIN. And all because a girl whose
rove he had thrown away few years
before, teased, encouraged and
laughed at him in turns.
But one night the tide of his for
tune seemed to turn, for he found
her at home alone. They talked of
many things that night, among them
the summer at Deephaven and his art
am making no progress at nv
work. he told her gloomily. "And
what is the cause of your failure?"
she asked him gently. "You," he an
swered without looking at her.
A wave of crimson rushed over the
girls face and her teeth sank deem
into her quivering lips. IF you
would only try to care" he finally
burst out desperately. She turned to
MIN, her eyes soft and luminous.
And suppose did care?" John Bar
rlngton rushed quickly to her side.
Evelyn" he cried, his face radiant
From that night he was a different
man. He worked at his statue with
feverlsh energy and all his old art
seemed to return with his happiness.
You are the first one who will see
the statue completed" he told Eve
lyn, for his brother artists were clam
oring for sight of his work.
AT last it was finished. 1t was near
ing midnight and John Darlington
was exhausted. A feverish light of
excitement burned in his eyes and his
brain was in a whirl. He switched
the lights this way and that, examin-
ing the statue carefully to discover
the slightest defect, but there was
none. 1t was perfect; it all but
breathed. He sank at his desk with
his face buried in his hands.
The fame he had so long coveted
as a sculptor would now be his. He
longed to call in his artist friends
that they might see the wonder his
fingers had wrought, but he had
given his word to Evelyn, and he
would not break it.
Half mechanically he drew a pile
of unopened letters to him; only one
he opened; it was from Evelyn
Wayne.
Dear Mr.. Darlington, she wrote,
Congratulations on your dream COM
ing true. So the wonderful statue is
finished and you are at last to know
the sweetness of fame. And now
must beg leave to withdraw from our
engagement, as it was entered solely
to enable you to wear the laurels of
success. You accused me of being
the cause of your failure, because I
did not love you; so 1 made believe
as the children say, and am now the
cause of your success. You remem-
Der at Deephaven few years ago you
said you would sacrifice love and hap
piness for fame; that those things
had no place in an artists life, so I
feel perfectly justified in the course
l have taken.
Wishing you even greater fame
than that which is before you now,
believe me, very sincerely,
EVELYN WAYNE"
Somewhere in the city clock
struck twelve just as the clock on the
mantel chimed the midnight hour.
John Darlington rose and without the
slightest suspicion of haste reahced
for the mallet that lay on the table
beside him. One powerful blow and
the statue that had all but breathed
lay in a million fragments around
him. That night he locked his studio
door and the name of John Barring
ton, one time famous sculptor, sank
into oblivion. The price of fame was
greater than even he was willing to
pay.-Boston Post.