LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1298, 17 May 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE ABTTST’S CHILI>. [BY a. R, OISSI'G.] [Tinsley. ]

O'ncluded,

Watched over with an almost ex'ravagant affection, Jitt'e Barbara sffelv parsed through her earliest childhoo I "he continued however, to be extremely delicate—so slight iu stru ;ture, that it' seemed as if her father’s slightest touch would crush her; so exquisitely beauti ui that it was a marvel to behold her. She w*s like her father in her disposition—silent, gentle, and timid. She was never absent froin his side, fur she had no remembrance of any other companion, ishe lay often upon a little couch placed in the studio, and her eyes would follow every movement of the artist with a mixture of quiet curiosity and delight—seldom speaking, but when she did so often giving utterance to some thought which astonished Nathaniel by its precocious intelligence. The child had a wonderful love of colour, liking less mere brilliant hues thau the glowing richness of dark harmonious tints. Nathaniel, after a short absence from the studio, often found her lying before one of his large half finished pictures, her eyes fixed in rapture upon it, absolutely forgetful of all else. .She would drag the old canvases from their dark corners, and place them where the sun could fall upon them ; then laugh, with a curious quiet laugh of intense enjoyment, ss the colours shon-i fo r th once more. It wss at this time, when Barbara was about six years oid, that she aud ber father regular y took their morning walk and visited the picture shops. At each one of the e she had a favourite picture, which she would on no account miss seeing. Sometim s tins t ictuie would be sold, a circumstance which always affl cted the child with an almost inconsolable grief, -he manifested an astonishi hing memory, the mere mention of a title sufficing to draw from her the exact description of picture long after she had lost sight of it. Strange as it may seem, Nathaniel was very long before he even contemplat' d ihe po sibility of Barbara making an active ese of her talents. But, after ah, this was only in accordance with the natural tenor of his mind, which looked always last at the material side of things. The child’s love for art was to him merely one of the beautiful properties of tier mind, quite distinct from any connection with evey-day Ida even as tie hints-If had passed the greater part of his life in being an artist witho t handling the brush, painting pictures upon the air. The child was alreuly tw. Ive years old, when, one day standing by him at the easel, and suddenly offering anexoeileut suggestion with regard to the back ground of a portrait he was painting, Nathaniel suddenly turned round and said, ‘ Should you like to learn painting, Barbara?’ ‘Oh, so much!’ she replied, clasping her hands before her, Her father looked at her with quiet surpri e. * You would ? But you would have to learn to draw first—with pencil, you know, on paper. It would take you a long time, and give you a great deal of trouble, dear ‘ * I should nos mind than, father,’ replied the child. ‘lhave often thought 1 should like to learn ’ '"'he paused a m meut, then added, * 1 think I should not find it very hard.’ ‘ '•''hy, dear ? Have you ever tried ?’ ‘I 1 have tried <nce or twi e,’ faltered the child, blushi >g; ‘ but it was very bad ’ * Have you got anything you have done ? Let me see them.’ So Barbara brought out a few old scraps of paper, Uion which she had attempted to sketca o-'jects in the mom and seen through the wiudow. They were very rude, of course, but still showed a most unusual skill in one uuiootructed Her father wis delighted. ’J hat wry day be began to give lesdons, and before long she was making astonishing progress Nathaniel had at lengih found something into which he could enter heart and soul. K very moment of time that he c< uld spare from the pursuits on whica their living depended he spent iu Barbara s instruct! m. Their life was a very inonoton ms on°, and years passed away imperceptibly, marked by iittle but the usual vicis.-itudes of a greater or less degree of p. veity : but i u future there would be a more iutenst ng index of time Barbara’s progress The nnger raved rapidly. One, two, three, four years, and the gul was sixte n, by this time excelling her lather iu all the nicer details of their art, and manifesting a leady a vigour of conception and power of txicutiou equal to Nathaniel's when at his best These four yeira of unremitting industry had wrought a great change iu Pendle’s character. lit lived now, which before he could hardly be said to have done ; but he wa», so to speak, a life by pioxy. '- is old enthusiasm had returned to him in all its strength ; but its object was no I mger bis owu work, actual or prospective. He 1. inked for the realisation of many fa led visions, but through the instrumentality of his daughter Wi h weight ho daily recognised ti.e g owing iorce of her intellect and lur genius. |She he found, could understand him, could sunpat use with him in that for which he had always sought sympathy i vain. To her his rapt m dit itious were not idleness, his glowing word-pictures were not ravings The p. rseverauce which hchimse f lacked had endowed h-r with power to produce before bis outward ■ye scenes over which his mind’s eye bad long gloated Her hand was becoming the interpreter of his boughts Two years more, «’d Nathaniel's happiness hud icached its climax. A distinguish!? I artcriiic hal by chauco seen one of Baibara’s pictures in the shop window, where it was ix pofci for ea e; and, struck with its beauty and originality, had not only purchased it, but had made his discovery widely known in tho world of art. Bofoio she »as conscious of the cause Barbara found hoi self famous.

One day she received a visit from two distinguished artists, who, partly out of me c curiosity, had discovered the way up to the dingy old studio. They had conversed some time with her, had given hor good advice re lutive to her best course in future, and had concluded by offering her all the assistance in their power. Nathaniel happened to be away during this interview, and when ho returned he found Barba-a reclining on the couch,pale and almost 1 adding from excitement. Ho. - health was still a constant source of solicitude to hor father, for even the slightest unusual occurrence sufficed to render her unwell for several hours. Now, as he entered the room, he had already an anxious look on his face, and it increased to one of positive terror when he beheld her condition. Flying to her side, he asked if she wore ill. ‘ It is nothing, father,’ she replied, smiling ‘I have just received a visit which Las txeiled me a little, that’s all. But you appear distressed father! What has happend ? ’ Nathaniel was walking up and down the room with a look of distraction on his face. He stopped by 1 er, and spoke in a low voice : ‘ You remember the sick child in the family below us ? ’ ‘Yes. Is it better?’

‘it is dead—of smallpox. Barbara, we must leave this house at once. On, this is terrible! Perhaps we are too late already ! God help us 1 Do you feel wed enough to dress und tome at once clear ? Oar things can be sent after us. Wo will go at ail hazards.’

Barbara arose at once, and before half an hour had passed the two bad lett the house. The conjecture seemed to have gifted Nathaniel with unusual decision. Already he had made his plans, and in pursuance of them he took his daughter quite «.»ay from the city aud obtained lodgings in a country spot, whore he trusted to the Ledtv v air for prove ding ill effects. .Expense was no consideration to him ; lie thought only of his child pursued hy a terrible' enemy, whom she must escape or die. Before the close of that same day they had found an abode to suit them, and were hoping for the best. They hoped in vain. Scarcely two days passed before Barbara began to show unepiiTOial symptoms of ft serious illuoss, and on

the third day the Tillage physician declared that she was under an attack of smallpox. She did not die. All that skill could do for her was done, and she at length recovered. But it was to wish that she had died. She arose from her sick bed—blind! Were my pen far more skilful than it is, I migtit well hesitate to speak of Pendlo during the period immediately following this terrible infliction. He was smitten down with a blow from which it was impossible that he should ever wholly recover, The most precious longings of his life had been revived after apparent extinction, only to be again crushed out, ruthlcsly and for ever. His memory was for a time impaired, and he would sit by Barbara’s side, stroking softly her Ling dark hair, and talking to her as if she had still been iho little child who knew nothing of art or of fame. He was often unable to realise the extent of her misfortune; would call her attention to some beautiful object, and when, the poor girl sank her head with a bitter sob would look wonderingly in her face. Alas for Barbara! If the loss of her sight was terrible to her father, what was it to herself! Time did not render it easier to bear, for with the loss of outer sight the inner grew more keen ; and she was momently tortured with the imagination of lovely scenes which her hand was powerless to depict. Could weeping have restored her sight, she would not long have remained blind. In her father’s presence she always endeavoured to be cheerful ; but when alone she suffered tb® bitterness of death.

The two soon returned to town, driven thither by their poverty. This was an additional burden, which kept too constantly increasing. The state of the poor girl’s health imperatively demanded delicate and expensive nourishment; bare sustenance was the most her father could provide her—at times there was scarcely that. Daily she grew weak-r in body, but, as if in compensation, she at length began to grow calmer iu mind. From the borderland of another world she could look hick peacefully upon her path in this; could think with quiet gratitude ot what she had achieved, and reflect without too severe a regret upon what she might have attained. Daily she grew weaker. !§ho suffered from no specific disease; it was the struggle between body and spirit, iu which the latter was gaining the mastery. She had had an uneasy night, and in the early morning had sunk to sleep with her hand in her father’s. It was summer, and the first beams of sunlight already chequered the floor of the room, momently spreading and growing in streng'h. Nathaniel sat with his eyes fixed on the little square of sky seen through the window, and his thoughts were far away. Barbara stirred and aroused him from his reverie. ‘ Do you feel better, darling ?’ he asked. ' Much, dear father.’ Then added, after a pause, as she raised herself and turned her sightless eyes round the room, ‘ But bow light it is ! What makes the room so light and full of such splendid colours ? What is the reason father ? ’ Her father looked helplessly around, but only shook his head, ‘ See ! ’ she went on, her voice sinking to a whisper; ‘how they fall on the wall! How they melt and interchange! Whit lovely forms too ! Quick, father dear ! We must paint them before they go. Hand me my brush ! They are going—they are going— ’ Still pointing with her hand, she sank back upon her pillow and yielded her last breath. Even then, as she lay dead, her father painted the picture which you see before you; painted his child, not as she then looked, wan and colourless as a faded lily ; but sketching the outline from the face before him, made it live and breathe with the warm hues of health. The eyes which then wero closed for over, memory, aided by imagination, pictured forth as they once had been, eloquent with the light of genius ere yet it was quenched in eternal darkness. Even thus did she look upon him when in the morning of her strength ; even thus she arose before his mind when he had lost her for ever. Was not this picture a labour of love? Never before hud the artist plied his brush with such consummate skill. The last eff >rt of a wasted life was a not unworthy fulfilment of the glorious visions amid which it had begun. Nathaniel painted no more. He sank quickly into imbecility, and became an object of charity to those who knew him. All the finished pictures which his studio contained were sold to raise a little money ; and it was on that occasion that I purchased this head.