Fame Versus Love

"It cannot bol" As these worda feil Helen Armrtrong's lips she aroae from her seat - an oíd overturned boat- an J moved slowly toward tho water'a edge. For a moment her companion - a, man of perhaps twenty-five- hesitated; then he joined her, repeating: "It cannot bo, Helen? Surely you are not in earnest. You love me- havB you not said it? - and yet you refuso to become my wifeV' "Edwin, I " ;" "You did not mean it," quickly interrupted Edwin Bennett, adding: "Come, darling, why should we not be happy?" and he drew her hand withiu hts arm. For an instant she let it rest there, then slowly but firmly she loosened his clasp, as sho said: "For two years you and I have been friends. In that time did you ever know me to change my mind after I had once decided uponanythiny1"' "No, but - - " answered her companion quickly, while she, unbeeding, goes on with: "You know the one great desire of i my live ia to win fame as an artist. Could I do this as your wife?" "Why uot, Holen? Would I not do anything in the world to help you?" came the proud answer, as Edwin Bennett beut his eyes fondly upon the fair face beside him. "No, Edwin; as a wifo I could ncver hope to attain fame. Marriage brings to woman so many. care3 that there is very little time left over for othur work. I should not make you happy. I should be constantly longina for my old. frea Hf ." "If that is all I am not afraid to risk my happiness, Helen," anawered her lover, a more hopeful look lighting up his handsome face. "Think how for five years," continued Helen, "I have worked with ÍÜ6 one end in view. My home, you are awaie, has not been particularly agreeable. Uncle and aunt are kind in their way, and have alwaya let mo have my wllf about painting, provided it did not cost them anything. As for love or sympathy, vou have seen how much tbey nave yieided me." "Seen and feit for you, Helen, God knows. And now that I wili make your life, if love can do it, ono happy dream, you will not; and yet you do not deny your love for me." For a second Helen's ey&s rested longingly upon the face of the man who loved her so dearly; then into their dusky depths crept an intense, passionate longing, as they swept tle horizon and noted the glovious dor of the setting sun, while she exclaimed: 'Oh, Edwin! If I could only reproduce that sunset just as it is. If I only cquld?" With an impatient sigh he turiied away. "Always her art, never roe; perhaps she is right after all. It would always etand between us." She, not noticing, went on with: "If it would only stay long enough for meto catch thosecolors, but no, it is fading now." Turning, Helen iound her companion had left her side, and stood a few yards away. "Edwin," she calk-d. In an instant he was beside her, everything iorgotten except that she was the woroan he loved. "I Wiinted to teil you how good Mr. Hovey is. It seems he was acquainted with poor papa years ago, when I was a baby, and thevefore feels quite interested in ma. You have heard now he praises my work, and last night he proposed- " "Proposed!" exclaimivi Edwin Rpn. nett, íiotly. "Why, you aon't mean to say the old man actually had the audacity to aek you to marry him?" "How ridiculous. IIow could you think of snch a thing?" answered Helen, a ripple oL laughter escaping from between her pretty teeth aB she continued; "No; he proposed, it I wero williog, osend me to Italy lor two years, he, ofcourse, defmying thegreater part of the expense. He said when I became famous I could refund him the little amount ii I wished. Was it not gcneioua of him? Just think, two yefirs at work among the oldmaaters. Wlüit could I do then? It would be uch a help to me. One can live very iraply there. My little incoine would do, witii care, I think." "And you would L0?" As Edwin Bennett asked thi.s question a look of pain nrossed his face, "Why not?" camc Uie reply, as Helen raised hev eyes questioningly to her companion. "You 6ny you love me; and yet you would put the hiia between us. Helen, wait; I win work liard and earn money enough to take us both abroad. Do you tbink I could deny you anytL;n? Vcu should [jamt to your heart's content, from the oldmasters, or anythji)g ejse youpleased. So long as you were happy, 1 should be. Perhans I might mm pain ter, too, orae duy, wit'ri yon to inspire me," he added, smilingslightly. "1 do not doubt your love for me, Edwin, but I shall never marry. I intendtodevotn my life toart. Asawife it would beimpossible for meto do so. I should bu hindered and trammelled in a thousand ways. Believe me, I have thouglit very earnestly of all this, and - " "Helen, when I ramo to spend my vacation here at Little Rock, so $ -io be near you, [ said to myself, 'Sov you can ask the wonmn you love tobo your wife, and know that you have a home to offer her.' For your sake ] wish I were ricb; but I am atill young, and with the good prospects I have, J do not 6ee why I shall uot be able before many yeai's to give my wife al! 6hecan wish." "It is not that, Edwin. I 6houiaoot loye you ono bit inore i? you werc a millionaire," intevrupted Helen, glancmg ï-eproochfully at liim. "Helen, my boliday is over to-morrow. ï must have my answer to night." The -.vords came eomewhat eternly from between Edwin Bennett's lips. MechiUiically, with tha end of his parasol, Helen Armstrong traced on tbo glittering, yellow sands, "Fame ! versus Loi-e." Then, a.s sha beca-me i aware of what sbe ' had doue, 8hc sought to ofEace thera. Toe late. win rii-iiiL'-f.s hand stnyed hers, r.. pointing to the letters that stoodöïit, he said, hoaraely: "Choose!? For ii Becond Bhe hesitated; then, slowly carne the answer: "I acceptcd Mr. Hovey's otter tuis morning. I amto sail in a week." Spurning her band from him, Edwin Bennett cried out passionately: "Godtorgiveyou! Icannot!" 'i without another word, be turiied aml left her. A faint cry ot "Edwin" escaped her lipa, as her arms Jvere held out imploringly toward him. Vhey then feil to her side, and she, too, turned and went slowly across the sands in th opposite direct ion. If he had looked back and seen those óütstretched arms how different their lifo might have been; but no, he plodded angrilj alon the shore, glancin neither to the nght nor left Little by little th waves crept up and Love was drowned, while Fame still stood out bold and clear upon the yellow sands. Ten yeara have come and gone smet Holen Armstrong and Edwin Bennett parted on the shore, and during that time theyhave never niet. Helen had won that which ahe had striven tor. She had become an artist ot renown. Even royalty had been pleasetlto compliment her upon her art. For the last month one of Helen Arnistrong's paintings ha boen on exhibition at the Acadfmy ofDjsign, and crowds had beendrawnthither'to see this last work of tt:o celebra! ad artist. The subject was simple, authinq new, yet viaitbra i'eturned again and again to gazo at it. It was the last day of its exhibition, when a lady and pentleman eadinp a little girl of perhaps 3 years by the hand, passed intö tlie room where the painting hung. "Oh! ïan't it too bad there ia such a crowd; I wnnted so to aee ït," exclaimed the lady; to which the gentleman replied: "We wili look at the other picturea first and come back ngain; pevhaps there will not le such i crowd then." An hour or 30 later the gentleman and tadyreturned; then the room was almost deserted, except for a few sti-agglers here and there. It was jtist about time to close the gallery. For a fc-w moments they stood in si'enco beforu the painting; then a little voice said: "Baby want to see too, papa." Stooping down thegentlaman raised the pretty, daintily-dressed child in his arms. After gravii y regarding the picture for a second, the little one anked: "Is zay mad, papa?" "I am afraid one was, pet," vme the low answer, as Edwin Bennett softly kisstd the fair cheek of his little gir!. Then his gaze returned to the painting. A. atl'vi.lk OL ywllo-.V Okbl.dc, di4.l here and there by hnge boulders, and piles of snowy pebbles, against which the overhanging cliffs looked nlmost black. Gentío little baby waves ripplin; in toward the shore, ulule majestic purple-hued, silver-edged clouda Beemed iloatingen masse toward the golden, ciimson-barredsnn thatflooded the sky and water with its warm light. In the center of thu picture, where the beach tormed u cure resomblmg a horseshoe.wasanold boat.turnedbottom upward; some iew feet off, the figure of a young man, ainparently walkng hurriedly away. Although the face was ïiot visible, the gazer feit that themansufleredjandths glorious sunset was this Saynaught to him. Perhaps it was in the tihtly-clasped hand, the veins of wbicb stood out like great cords; or, maybe, in thtman 's apparent total disregard of hia snrroundings. To the right of the picture was tha figure of a young girl, trailing a parasol in the sand, as slie appeared to move slowly in the opposite direction from her companion. Only a little bit of a dellcately shaped ear and a mass of glossy braids showed frombeneatli the shnde hat, but one could readily believe that the pretty girlish figure belonged to uu equally attractive face. About half way between them, raced upontbesaods, were thewoids, 'Fame versus Love." "Is it not lovely, Edwin?" and Mrs. ïennett laid ber hand upon her husjand's arm as sho dded: "Yet how sad it somuhow seeems. [ can't help feeling sorry for them. I viah I could ste their faces. I feel ivs f I wanted to turn them round." Clasping the little hand thatrested so confidingly upon hi.s ;.r-m, Edwin Bennet inwardly thanked Vod for the ;ift oi his fair young wil'e, r.í, he said: "Come dear, ihey are corwüieoeing :o close up. B;;by's tired, " "Ess, lue's tired. Baby wants to ;iss mama," lisped the child, Holding out bpr f.tnjr mrt Husband and wiíe failed to notice a ady who stood near, gazin;; at a painting. As the pretty young morh:r stooped down to receivt' her baby'a tisses, which the littlo one lavished on cbéekï, lips and brow, a dèep, vearning look gatlieredin the stranee ady 's eyes and slie türnéd hastily away. "Oh, Edwin!" exclaiined his wjfe aa they passed the silent figiu-e in black. "Wouldn't it be nice ii baby should irow up to be a great artist like t hia Miss Arinstrong?" "God forbid, Annie, carne the eixrnest rèpfyi folloux-d by "let Her gr o w up to be a true, loving wotnan, that. ia all I ask." The ladyV hand tigbtened its hold upon the back of a su ttee as the wordü reached her earw, but she did not move until they were out of sight. Then liiting lier veil she went and stood before the painting that had won euch fame. Téars gathered in her eyes as ehe gazed, and with the words, "I will never look at it again," she, too, passed out of tile building, and in her ownhandsomecamagewas cüivcn home. Scovn shone in her dark c-yesasthey feil upon the costly works ot art scattered n lavish profusión about her luxuiiously furnished apartinents. Hastily throwing aside her wraps, ,-ihe crosscd over to o, mirror. A very bandeóme face it reflected. Not lookingthe thirty years it luid known. ITclen Armstrong- fflï it was she - had heard of Edwin Bennet t's marrage; heard tlmt hc had nucecedod in business beyond his most sanguine expectations; heard thai hiswife was one oL the loveliest and gentleat ol women, and that Edwin Bennett idolizod both wifeandchild. Thisday Bhe had sten them. Tlien came the thought tlmt slie might have stood in that wife's placo; she, too, might iiavohafl thosc baby lip.s presséd as lovingly lo hers; but sh had put it Ivom her. Shc had choBcn Fume versus Love. If shs could only go back to that day on the sauds, how diíTerently ehe would now act. Turnint wearily awa,y from thf mirror, shocxclaimed, bilterly: "Too late, Uden Armstrong. As you have town, so must you rtap." Marshall A. Bishop, of Lafayette, N. Y., a young farmer, was married at the Onondaga County Fairgroundt to Emma K. Knapp, aged 20, of the same town, before 80,000 people. A high platform was erected f or the show. Tnere was wild applause, and all th select crowd on theplatform,includin the roporters, kissed the pretty bride. i The present f. om exhibitovs at th fair aiaountcd fo íeVéfái hucdivd dol1 lara in value.