WEDDED TO ART

Patea Mail, Volume IX, Issue 1100, 17 October 1883, Page 4

WEDDED TO ART

LITERATURE.

An English Story

Ivan Kirke was a born artist, Asa farmer lad, living in the midst of nature’s beauties, bis love for them bad been fostered and developed into a passion that made him the vexation of his good, prosaic father. It became certain that he would make the worst of bad farmers.

At the age of sixteen, therefore, owing greatly to Mr Carter’s advice, he had been sent away to school. There he picked up the rudiments of art from a fellow-student, and in spare moments applied them with such skill and originality as to gain the attention of a wealthy gentleman, who eventually became his patron. It must be confessed that he w«s singularly fortunate. Up to the present, little of the hitter hardships ordinarily attendant on an artist’s formative period had fallen to his lot. With the advantage of a wealthy patron, passionate love of beauty, and intelligent skill, he had made rapid advancement. He had made during that time two or three visits home ; hut, although but a mile distant from the Carters’ farm, ho had not seen L-lia before since she was a little freckle-faced urchin. He was now at home for a month or more. A prize had boon offered to young artists, and he had resolved to compete. It was for this purpose that lie was at work upon the beautiful landscape in the neighbourhood of Leli i’s home when mternptcd by her and ‘ Sport.’ He was quick to appreciate her fresh and blooming boanty : and ns she bent ovit ‘ Sport’ with her arms around his neck, and her indignant glance directed at him, he promptly saw what an addition the scene would be to his contemplated picture. During thp next few weeks Lelia saw much of the young painter. She visited him daily at his work in the field, and watched the progress of the picture in which she had nearly as great an interest ns he himself, as her own pretty face formed an important feature. A less innocent-minded girl, or one more acquainted with the world, might have objected to the publicity thereby given her. Lelia did not. She felt proud of it, and grateful to the artist for the compliment.

After their unconventional first meeting, it did not take long for them to become the best of friends. Ivan told much of his life in London, bis successes and hopes, the men and women with whom be mingled, the methods and customs of society, and many other things which Lelia knew of fairyland through books.

The more he saw of her, the more he admired her, and drew favourable comparisons between her and certain bedecked and powdered ball-room visions he had seen. Owing to the difference in their ages, he fell little more hesitation in expressing his admiration than if she had been a child prattling on his knee.

Trne love runs most appalling smooth and rapid till it becomes beyond control whatever it docs afterward. So ii was with Lelia. She loved with her whole sonl, and did not even suspect it. Consequently when Ivan, with his picture completed, bade her farewell, and returned to London, it was like a rude awakening, a cruel shock, that seemed to stun her at first. Life became a weary waiting for what she dared not hope. Her step lost its buoyancy and her cheek its roses. She seemed to have gone at a step from girlhood to womanhood ; and, instead of playing with ‘ Sport ’ and other pets, she busied herself about household matters, or sat and dreamed about the past. With the coming spring she regained much of her old spirit, and her laugh echoed among the hills again, not so loud and careless as formerly, but still merry and sparkling. It was one afternoon in June, as wandeiing along the roadside she mot Ivan’s little brother Johnny.’ ‘lvan’s coming home to-morrow,’ said Johnny, with startling suddenness. ‘So soon?’ exclaimed Lelia; and her heart began to flutter painfully. * Yes, and he’s been married, too.’ Lelia looked at the child in dumb, white astonishment. ‘ I heard 'raa telling Mrs Grove this morning,’ continued Johnny. ‘She didn't say married ; she said wedded ; bat it means the same, don’t it?’ ‘ Yes, dear, it means the same. As she turned with quivering lips and heaving bosom, and walked rapidly away, past the wild roses that seemed to look after her, grieved and surprised at her neglect—past the mild-eyed sheep that stared at her with gentle reproach—past blackbirds and skylarks singing in field and hedge—past all the bright things of nature, that now appeared bnt a dreary mockery, and fell upon a mossy bank with a deep, heartbreaking sob.

This, then, was the end—the end to her first pure love, and all the visions it had created 1 Somehow Lelia never so much as questioned whether little ten-year-old Johnny was a worthy messenger of such news. What right had she to expect anything different ? Had she any claims on Ivan, or any assurance that he had not forgotten her entirely ? What more natural than for liim to marry ? If Lelia, when she had turned from the road, bad looked far ahead, she would have perceived just round the bend a form whose manly strides she would have recognised at a glance. (To be continued.)