The Glenwood post., 1912-11-30
Love and AIT


ner built his bungalow until his pop
oorhood Of orange groves and mag
lolia trees. His studio WAS 4 place for
sighl-sees. as well as q phesant re-
sort for friends and neighbour.
Others succumbed to Lorimers In
! huence because they found him re-
+ snonsire and congenial. but | ima gined
that he attracted me because he was
my contrast. II was he, himself, who
I discovered that our natures, beneath
the surface. were positive and not neg
4tiye. 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.
lie said 40 me one day as he looped
a 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
he chatterers just gone-"these others
.alk about everything they feel. and.
lear boy, they have 20 little to tell"
His tone to me vas like q velvet
touch. and his eyes held q steei-blue
CLEAN that made me love to look at
aim. l knew that he knew my inner
self. and that whatever that self might
oe. 1t was valued by him.
| shall never forget the kindly SYM
)athy that shone from his eyes when
ne realized one special day that
needed him to understand me. l had
1 zone to him. troubled about my moth.
sr's orphaned cousin Lucy. who had
come to us to live. having no other
place to 60. wanted to befriend her.
% make her happy. and l could aOt
sven tell her that she was welcoAe.
She Was little daisy maid. blossom
.ng into womAnhood almost il . day.
lndsr our soft skies and In our south
srn California breeses.
A. I entered the studio, Lorinsr's
,lean-shaven cheeks. his locks q dark
aair thrown Of his forehead, the
! .riendly eyes under his heavy beows,
\ made . At crown to his tall form
standing before the easel. I caa see
he very dab Of ochre ON his thumb.
he vas busy at one Of his wonderful
wood interiors. touching in the sun.
| light by hints OF yellow ON the llchen.
covered trunks.
Yes, Tisdale," Loriner said, after
i had locked fer . long time over his
! shoulder without speaking, Il feel the
10y Of utterance. Why. mAa, think
what 4 relief to weep in grief! That
Is what 1t Is to paint, to sing. to be q
poet"
Il can do none of these things"
answered slowly.
No. but after all. perhaps within
vou may be artist or poet. Life has
an intensity, value, that this hasn't"
and Lorimer lightly struck his can
! vas.
A woman-it is always a woman
mat intrudes upon mem 8 friendships.
one is sort Of earth. tres passing upon
kind of heaven. This time, It was,
oI course, the daisy maid, and 1t is
llficult to know whether she made
earth heaven, or brought heaven to
earth.
Lorimer and l suddenly awoke to
/ he knowledge of q mutual love for
any modest cousin. Why could not he
lave chosen one Of the beautiful wom-
IN that haunted his studio? From the
! crowds ! met in cars and shors, why
could not have taken another woman
and been satisfied?
My very silence was confession after
ais avowal Of love for Lucy, and then
ne admonished gravely, "Tisdale, re-
member We are her courtiers. and the
,ourtiers stand aside when the queen
passes, choosing whom she will"
| Oh! but It was hard to give another
man fair play; hard for us both. Lori
ner's face grew thin under the strain,
and cut of my heart.
At last, Lucy consented to sit for
ner portrait. One day. hidden in sport
behind some studio trumpery, we
watched her enter. Lorimer's hand
was on my shoulder. AS fortune had
7 1ecreed, my handkerchief lay on the
I aoor. Her own hand had 30 en-
oroidered the square OF linen that 1t
seemed too dainty for the pocket of
my shaggy coat: but when l carried
/ :he sheer and pretty thing, she seemed
close. Now. Lucy looked hastily to
/ eight 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
vent away, she covered the place with
ner hand, As though q bird had flown
into her bosom.
Lorimer gripped my shoulder, but
he blood leaped to my face for joy,
and then ran back in \ tide Of shame,
because l was SO poor a creature. l
J felt my. short and sturdy hspre grow
bOTe pie5ean in contras, 10 my friend;
I saw my unruly shock OF sandy hair:
my features-my limbs; my hands and
feet: all that the wsrld calls man.
We were silent, for I know not how