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ed with the reality of her oxistonco that at times he would extend
his arms with the thought that she would throw herself forward to
receiro his passionate embrace. Then, disappointed and realizing
his hallucination, ho would be assailed by the horrible fear that
some morning he should cotno to the studio and find her gone as
mysteriously as sho came.
As time passed the world that know Trowo marveled at his sudden
seclusion, and his changed demeanor and appearance. Onco bouy
ant and strong, within a brief space ho had become moroso and em
aciated, and he did not so much as recognize those of his friends
that chanced to pass him, as he walked from his studio to his cham
bers. Soruo over solicitious thought him ill or mad, and went to his
studio to ascertain tho truth regarding his condition, but to their
repeated demonstrations at his door there was'nu response.
It is to bo doubted if Trowe so much as heard them. His mind
and soul were so completely centred in tho beautiful woman of the
canvas that ho was oblivious to all else. His engagements wore for
gotten; it was nothing to him now if the City of London had ar
rived at her pier, bringing tho fair Mrs. Tescott fo pay tribute to
his genius. Ueauly though sho bo, thero was no othcrbeauty in tho
world for him now but the one that seemed to have sprung into lite
within tho four walls of his studio.
Tho picturo was now virtually completed; but the last finishing
touches remained to be administered ono more night's work for tho
unknown artist. Trowe was at the highest pitch or ardor and sus
pense. All tho day he sat before the marvelous creaturo of tho can
vas in a speechless transport of love.
From her glorious crown of unbound hair to her shapely white
feet sho was perfect. Every curvo and proportion of her full, firm
figure was a feast for an artist's eye. The dreamy attitude, tho
swelling bust, tho languorous look in her deep, dark eyes, all seemed
to speak of an ineffable desire. It is little wonder that Gideon
Trowo, strong man that ho was, became mad gazing into thoso
yearning orbs.
Did I say sho was faultless? Thero was ono mark a little brown
beauty spot j.is-t below her left shoulder. But that was not a fault.
It only served to further convince Trowe that she lived in llesh and
blood.
"She is mino," he said under his bro ith, as he staggered from tho
studio in tho gathering darkness "mine against all tho worlds
-
Tho next morning a young woman mounted the steps leading to
Gideon Trowc's studio and knocked at the door. There was no
answer from within. Sho turned the knob, that yielded to her hand,
and pushed open tho door and entered.
Tho painter was lying at full length on tho floor, as if ho had fallen
in utter exhaustion. He lay at tho feet of the beautiful creaturo of
the canvas. In his hand was a brush, and by his side was his
broken palette.
Tho visitor stood for a moment looking first at the picturo, then
ai tho prostrated artist.
Finally sho bent over Trowo and shook him till his eyes opened.
As his glanco rested on her fae he started to his feet.
"It is tho picturo como to life!" ho cried hoarsely.
A wavo of color swept over the young woman's face.
'I cannot understand it, but it is true,' she said, calmly. "Night
after night, as the ship floundered through tho storm, and each hour
seemed tho last for all on board. I dreamed of being hero 1 teas
here, can thero be any doubt of that J"
"Then you aro ho began, and paused.
"Mrs. Tescott," sho concluded. ''Come all tho way from England
to sit to tho greatest artist in tho world, only to find you have my
picturo painted."'
"I?" ho related, stupidly. I do not understand. It was not I
that painted it.''
"Look at your hands," sho said; "they are stained with fresh paint.
There is your palette broken when you fell exhausted. Thero is
tho brush in your hand with which you signed your namo at tho
bottom of tho picture!"
Ho gazed at his hands, tho palette, tho brush, tho signature. Hut
he could find no words.
"It is you that painted tho picture!" sho affirmed. "Do I not
know? Was I not hero to see? Who else could paint like that?"
For a space ho stood in profound meditation; then a light broko
over his face.
"In my sleep I did it in my sleep," ho muttered, more to himself
than to her. "I have been restless ill It was somnambulism.
Strange strafle."
Suddenly ho advanced and grasped her arm. "You shall not have
her!' he uttered, fiercely. "Sho is mine! I love her no, it is you I
love! I know I should find you. My very soul was in tho picture,
and I knew it would bring you to me. But ah, are you really sho?
Perhaj)sl dream perhaps it is all a dream. Tell mo the truth
lirovi: to mo that you aro she that I do not lovo merely a phantom
of my disordered brain!"
For answer sho turned back tho rich folds of her gown and dis
played to him tho singular little beauty mark below her left shoul
der. Truly, thero aro mysteries in life that pass understanding.
The Iiomancist in Town Topics.
WITH THE DEAR GIRLS.
Miss Antiquo Theso horrid seventeen-year locusts come once
every seventeen years.
Miss Waspish How interesting! DM jmi have much occasion to
notice them the last two times they wero here?
DOUBTFUL COMPLIMENT.
"There's ono thing about your boarding house," said the fresh
guest; Living here increases one's appetite so. Actually Mrs.
Housekeeper, after a dinner here I go away as hungry as a bear."
RUDGE & MORRIS CO.,
We are receiving new goods all the time. And the r ew gcods are the
goods to buy. The Quick Meal Gas Bauge takes the lead. The Leonard
Hardwood Cleanable Befrigerator can't he heat, and sold only by
&
TO 1122 K" TRJST
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