The west shore., August 01, 1889, Page 450, Image 43

4M
THE WEST SHORE.
of stirility seemed cast upon my Ubor, and to my
utter dismsy 1 oould cull forth nothing but lifeless
forms which aftor inch frequent rocarrence seemed
to mock me like an echo. You will wonder why dur
ing all this time the power of love did not waken the
soul of Olive; but if strange, it is nevertheless true,
and I can only explain it upon the thoory that my
whole soul and intelligence were wrapped up in the
tireleas quest for a soul of which her body gave vis
ible token, but whose subtler presence answered
not to the cry of my searching spirit The next
time Olive came to sit for me, which was this after
noon, I resolved to rend the veil that flattered so tan
Ulizlngly between me and the fruition of my hopes
and success as an artist; for long ere now I had
determined to make this a masterpiece. When this
was finished I would throw myself into the passion
of love with utter abandon: nntil suooeas was achiev
ed there should be ne compromise between art and
love. When ahe first entered my room I felt a sud
den thrill and a sensation of blindness; but that ever
preeeot awful dream of yours seemed to indicate hell
yawning beneath my feet, and I grew as calm as i
man who apprehends that death is imminent I seiz
ed my brush and proceeded to apply the tew remain
ing touches which would complete the portrait and
make me immortal. There was that in Olive's mood
which seamed to challenge mo to a supreme effort;
if human beings are ever ruled by demoniac power,
she waa this afternoon. Her eyes glowed with ex
preaalon -of what, I little cared in my extremity
and with swift triumphant akill I laid it upon the
canvas and called her to witness the completion of
my labor. Hhe glanced at it- the color Hod from her
face- she shrieked the words, 'OJ,dm! mi mollur1'
and clasping her hands to her brow, swooned upon
the floor. I placed her on the sofa, and as she re
covered consciousness, 1 went to the portrait The
111 that created it was broken, and I was terrific
and appalled by the fearful passions, the implacable
hatml, the awful dispair, that brooded over that beau
tif ul face and leapt forth with almost mosmerio intlu
ence from the canvas. I struck the brush across it
with the frniy of a mau straggling In nightmare,
while I almost ourwej the skill whi:h had caused me
to pluck from her dark Inheritance this ipMral flond
of lh dead put I'p to this time 1 had said no
wurd to her of love, though my e y had spoken it
a huoilml limee; now 1 was nearly crazed with rage
and disappointment Klinging down the bruu aud
paletUv 1 strode acroaa the room to where Olive all
unconscious of my mental anguish, half.nvlin j in
craccful attitude uixin tha mM.n..l .... ... i
.... . ... ... m unew
tions of my heart My love, the insatiable longing,
the awful fears whioh were beginning to torture my
soul, all struggled for utterance and fell tumultuous,
ly from my lips. I addressed these outpourings of
my heart to her bouI; I pierced the abysmal depths
of her eyes with the quivering rays of love, yielding
myself with a voluptuous rapture to the liberation of
the long pent-up emotions whioh for weeks had well,
nigh shivered my whole being. Bat the tide of ha.
man love and passion like all other tides, must ebb;
and as I ceased to speak and gazed upon the face of
the creature before whom I had cast the priceless
wine of love, I saw with the swiftness of a divination
whioh is granted scarcely once in a lifetime, the beg.
garliness of her whom love should have glorified. 0
the horror of that brief glance! aa if a flash of light
ning with power to render the human frame trans
parent and the soul visible to mortal sight had cast
its light upon her while I looked. And then I heard
her speak
" ' What do you call love?' she said. She took my
hand and laid it on her breast ' Ton feel the pen
dulum of my life throb to and fro. It only beats for
you. All I am and all I have to give, I give now to
you.'
" Time was when I would have turned with ab
horrence from one who so wantonly threw herself up
on the breast of passion; but the sovereignty of love,
and the insight which is accorded to one by an un
selfish dovotion to art, enabled me to hold hate and
passion alike in abeyanoe; for in Olive I saw one
who although by some miraoulous intervention had
been preserved unsullied, was now under the domin
ion of au instinct or a dim consciousness, the result
of whose obedience her soulless nature could not
realise. The fountains of my pity were profoundly
stirred. Thoughts almost blasphemous surged
through my brain as I knelt with fixed gaze before
the beautiful creature whom I know not how to name.
It seemed as if I had found God asleep, and that
while Time waited, one of his imperial creations had
gone forth without its birthright Darkness horrible
and intense smote upon me, and the universe seemed
to totter."
Overcome by the recollection of the scene so viv
idly depicted by his excited imagination, Winthrop
paused, and fearing to disturb his train of thought
I waited anxiously for him to continue. At last in i
voice that seomod to proceed from the lips of fat s so
ap was its despair, he resumed his strange recital-
" I seized her hands with a violence of which, un
ul 1 was reealUl K . t : ..
n nr . i ' ' Ul rwn 1 WM unoonsciou
v, uiive, I cried.' toll Talk wllA mni wVat vnn nrft.
mywelf at ber feet Bhs did M stir at my PproJlfh u ! " 1 'tell me who and what you are.
I took her hand and pour! forth the p,nUn .mlW ' T y,U WS 1 wumot erstand you.. I give
Pentnniun.v 1 i wwnoi una
JPD-oulove.andyou grant me base
passion in return;