Webster City freeman. [volume] (Webster City, Hamilton County, Iowa) 1884-1946, 1912-11-05
Love and Art

It was but a short time after Lori
mer built his bungalow until his pop
ularity was establsS ID in our neigh
borhood Of orange groves ana mag
nolia trees. His S Lido was place for
sight-seers, as fell as pleasant re-
sort for friende and neighbors.
Others succumbed to Lorimer's In
luence because they found him re-
sponsive and congenial but imagined
that he attracted me because he was
my contrast. It was he, himself, who
discovered that our natures, beneath
the surface, were positive and NOT neg
alive, and with that discovery he swept
away all imagined barriers between US,
placing me at once in the heart Of the
company that haunted his bungalow.
He said to me one day as he looped
Persian drapery behind his models
chair: "Tisdale, you have the depth.
of artist-instinct, but you haven't the
gift of expression. "You don't even
talk. These others, for instance"
waving his hand in the direction OF
the chatterers Just gone-"t these others
talk about everything they feel and,
dear boy, they have so little to tell" i,
His tone to me was like velvet
touch, and his eyes held a steelblue
CLEAN that made me love to look at
him. / knew that he knew my inner
self, and that whatever that self might
be, it was valued by him.
1 shall never forget the kindly SYM
pathy that shone from his eyes when
he realized one special day that I
needed him to understand me. had
gone to him, troubled about my moth
er's orphaned cousin Lucy, who had
come to us to live, having no other
to make her happy, and l could not
even tell her that she was welcome.
She was little daisy maid, blossom
ing into womanhood almost In day,
under our soft skies and in our south
ern California breezes.
AS I entered the studio. Lorimer's
clean-shaven cheeks, his locks Of dark
hair thrown of his forehead, the
friendly eyes under his heavy brows,
made q fit crown to his tall form
standing before the easel. can SEQ
the very dab of ochre on his thumb.
He was busy at one Of his wonderfuI
wood interiors, touching in the sum
light by hints Of yellow on the hchen-
covered trunks.
u yes, Tisdale," Lorimer said, after
had looked for long time over his
shoulder without speaking, II feel the
Joy OF utterance. Why, man, think
what relief to weep In grief! That
Is what it is to paint, to sing, to be 2
poet"
Il can do none of these things" ]
answered slowly. :
mo. but after all, perhaps within
you may be artist or poet. Life has
an intensity, value. that this hasn't
land Lorimer lightly struck his cen
was.
woman-it Is always woman
ifthat iintrudes upon mems friendships
Shells sort of earth, trespassing upon
!. q kind OF heaven. This time, 1t was
of course, the daisy maid, and It IL
) difficult to know whether she made
,earth heaven, or brought heaven to
earth.
Lorimer and I suddenly awoke to
the knowledge Of q mutual love for
my modest cousin. Why could not be
have chosen one OF the beautiful WON.
en- that haunted his studio? From the
crowds ! met in cars and shops, Why
could not have taken another woman
and been satisfied?
My very silence was confession after
his avowal Of love for Lucy, and then
he admonished gravely, ''Tisdale. re-
member we are her courtiers, and the
courtiers stand aside when the queen
passes. choosing whom she will.
| oh! but 1t was hard to give another
man fair play: hard for us both. Lori
mer's face grew thin under the strain.
and river Of fire seemed to flow In
and out Of my heart.
At last, Lucy consented to sit for
her portrait. One day, hidden in snort
behind some studio trumpery. We
watched her enter. Lorimer's hand
was on my shoulder. As fortune haA,
decreed, my handkerchief lay ON the
floor. Her own hand had 80 en-
broidered the square of linen that Il
seemed too dainty for the pocket Of
my shaggy coat; but when ] carried
the sheer and pretty thing, she seemed
close. Now, Lucy looked hastily to
right and left. then. believing herself
alone. she caught up the handkerchief
and pressed 1t to her lips; then she
thrust 1t into her gown, and as she
went away, she covered the place with
her hand, as though bird had flown
into her bosom.
Lorimer gripped my shoulder, but
the blood leaped to my face for 10Y.
and then ran back in tide of shame
because l was 50 poor q creature.
felt my short and sturdy figure sror
more plebean In contrast to my friend.
/ saw my unruly shock Of sandy hair:
my features-my limbs: my hands and.
feet: all that the world calls man.
We were silent, for ! know not how.
long. listening to the clock that Lori
mer timed his hours BY. Finally, 10
was he that spoke: