 | CHAPTER XLII.
SUGGESTIVE PICTURES AND A PRIZE. Barriers burned away |  |
42. CHAPTER XLII.
SUGGESTIVE PICTURES AND A PRIZE.
At last the day of the exhibition dawned. Dennis had
sent his picture, directed to Mr. Consoor, with his name in
an envelope nailed on its back. No one was to know who
the artists were till after the decision was given. Christine
had sent hers also, but no name whatever was in the envelope
on the back of her picture.
Quite early in the day, the doors were thrown open for
all who chose to come. The committee of critics had
ample time given them for their decision, and at one P. M.
this was to be announced.
Although Dennis went quite early, he found that
Christine was there before him. She stood with Professor
and Mrs. Learned, Mr. Consoor and her father, before
his picture. He could only see her side face, and she was
glancing from the printed explanation in the catalogue to
the painting. Mrs. Learned was also at her side, seeing
to it that no point was unnoted. Christine's manner
betrayed intense interest and excitement, and with cause,
for again Dennis had spoken to her deepest soul in the
language she best loved and understood.
As before she saw two emblematic pictures within one
frame merely separated by a plain band of gold.
The first presented a chateau of almost palatial proportions,
heavy, ornate, but stiff and quite devoid of beauty
Everything about the place indicated lavish expenditure.
The walks and trees were straight and formal, the flowers
that bloomed here and there, large and gaudy. A parrot
hung in a gilded cage against a column of the piazza. No
wild songsters fluttered in the trees, or were on the wing.
Hills shut the place in and gave it a narrow, restricted impression,
and the sky overhead was hard and brazen. On
the lawn stood a graceful mountain ash, and beneath it
were two figures. The first was that of a man, and evidently
the master of the place. His appearence and manner
chiefly indicated pride, haughtiness, and also sensuality.
He had broken a spray from the ash tree, and with a condescending
air was in the act of handing it to a lady, in
the portraiture of whom Dennis had truly displayed great
skill. She was very beautiful, and yet there was nothing
good or noble in her face. Her proud features showed
mingled shame and reluctance to receive the gift in the
manner it was bestowed, and yet she was receiving it.
The significance of the mountain ash is “Grandeur.” The
whole scene was the portrayal, in the beautiful language of
Art, of a worldly, ambitious marriage, where the man seeks
mere beauty, and the woman wealth and position, love
having no existence.
It possessed an eloquence that Christine could not
resist, and she fairly loathed the alliance she knew her
father would expect her to make after their arrival in
Germany, though once she had looked forward to it with
eagerness as the stepping-stone to her highest ambition.
The second picture was a beautiful contrast. Instead of
the brazen glare of the first, the air was full of glimmering
lights and shades, and the sky of a deep transparent blue.
Far up a mountain side, on an over-hanging cliff, grew the
same graceful ash-tree, but its branches were entwined with
hung around in slender streamers. On a jutting rock, with
precarious footing, stood a young man reaching up to grasp
a branch, his glance bold and hopeful, and his whole manner
full of daring and power. He had evidently had a
hard climb to reach his present position; his hat was gone,
and his dress light and simple and adapted to the severest
effort.
But the chief figure in this picture also, was that of a
young girl who stood near, her right hand clasping his left,
and steadying and sustaining him in his perilous footing.
The wind was in her golden hair, and swept to one side
her light airy costume. Her pure, noble face was lifted up
toward him, rather than toward the spray he sought to
grasp, and an eager happy light shone from her eyes. She
had evidently climbed with him to their present vantage-point,
and now her little hand secured and strengthened
him as he sought to grasp for her success and prosperity
joined with unselfish love. The graceful wind-flowers
tossed their delicate blossoms around their feet, and above
them an eagle wheeled in its majestic flight.
Below and oposite them on a breezy hill-side stood an
elegant modern villa, as tasteful in its architecture as the
former had been stiff and heavy. A fountain played upon
the lawn, and back of it a cascade broke into silver spray
and mist. High above this beautiful earthly home, in the
clear, pure air rose a palace-like structure in shadowy golden
outline, indicating that after the dwelling-place of time
came the grander and more perfect mansion above.
Christine looked till her eyes were blinded with tears,
and then dropped her veil. In the features of the lady in
each case she had not failed to trace a faint likeness, sufficient
to make it clear to herself. She said in a low plaintive
tone, with quivering lips:
“Mr. Fleet painted that picture.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Learned, looking at her with no little
wonder and perplexity.
By a great effort Christine recovered herself and said:
“You know how deeply fine paintings always affect
me.”
Dennis of course knew nothing of Christine's feelings.
He could only see that his picture had produced a profound
effect on her, and that she had eyes for nothing else.
But he overheard Mr. Consoor say:
“It is indeed a remarkable painting.”
“Do you know its author?” asked Mr. Ludolph with
a heavy frown.
“No, I do not. It is a mystery as yet.”
“Will it take the prize do you think?”
“I am not at liberty to give an opinion as yet,” replied
Mr. Consoor with a smile. “There is another picture here,
almost if not quite as fine, though much smaller and simpler,”
and he took Mr. Ludolph off to show him that.
Dennis was now recognized by Mrs. Learned and her
husband, who came forward and greeted him cordially, and
they commenced making a tour of the gallery together.
Though his heart beat fast, he completely ignored Christine's
presence, and replied coldly to Mr. Ludolph's slight
bow.
Christine, on being aware of his presence, furtively
devoured him with her eyes. The refining influences of his
life were evident in his face and bearing, and she realized
her ideal of what a man ought to be. Eagerly she watched
till he should discover her painting where it hung opposite
his own, and at last she was amply rewarded for all her
toil. He stopped suddenly and stood as if spell-bound.
The picture was very simple, and few accessories entered
into it. Upon a barren rock of an island stood a woman
away. Though every part had been worked up with
exquisite finish, the whole force and power of the painting
lay in the expression of the woman's face, which was an indescribable
mingling of longing and despair. Here also
Christine had traced a faint resemblance to herself, though
the woman was middle aged and haggard, with famine in
her cheeks.
As Dennis looked and wondered, the thought flashed
into his mind, “Could she have painted that?” He turned
suddenly toward her and was convinced that she had; for
there she was looking at him with something of the same
expression, or at least he fancied so. She blushed deeply
and turned hastily away. He was greatly agitated, but in
view of the eyes that were upon him controlled himself and
remained outwardly calm.
Mr. Ludolph also was convinced that his daughter had
painted the picture, and frowned more heavily than before.
He turned a dark look on her, and found her regarding
Dennis in a manner that caused him to grind his teeth with
rage. But he could do nothing but sit down and watch the
course of events.
The people were now thronging in. The gentlemen
who made up the prize, with their committee of award, of
which Mr. Consoor was chairman, were also present. Most
critically they examined each picture till at last their choice
narrowed down to the two paintings above described. But
it soon became evident that their choice would fall upon the
larger one, and Dennis saw that he was to be the victor.
To his surprise Christine seemed utterly indifferent as to
the result of their decision. He could not know that the
prize had no place in her thoughts when she painted her
picture. She had found her reward in its effect on him.
At one o'clock Mr. Consoor came forward and said:
group of liberal citizens who are so generously seeking to
encourage art in our great and prosperous city, it gives
me pleasure to inform you that your munificence has
brought forth rich fruit, for here are many paintings that
would do credit to any gallery. We hesitated a little time
between two very superior pictures, but at last we have
decided that the larger one is worthy of the prize. The
smaller picture is one of great merit; its treatment is unusually
fine, though the subject is not new.
“The two emblematic pictures in some parts show crude
and hasty work—indeed some minor parts are quite unfinished.
The artist evidently has not had sufficient time.
But the leading features are well wrought out, and there is
a power and originality about the entire effort that so impresses
us that, as I have said, we render our decision in
its favor. That all may know that our verdict is fair, we
state on our honor that we do not know the authorship of
a single painting present. Dr. Arten, as the largest contributor
towards the prize, you are appointed to bestow it.
On the back of the picture you will find an envelope containing
the name of the artist, whom we all shall delight to
honor.”
Amid breathless expectation, Dr. Arten stepped forward,
took down the envelope, and read in a loud, trumpet-like
voice,
“Dennis Fleet.”
| CHAPTER XLII.
SUGGESTIVE PICTURES AND A PRIZE. Barriers burned away | |