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The Nest Builder

Chapter 10 No.10

Word Count: 2175    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

and easel, a stool, and a piece of strangely colored drapery for the divan. This he discovered during a walk with Mary, in the window of an old furniture dealer, and instantly f

ke a fire burning over water, which made it seem a living thing in their

lute minimum, to be safe, one hundred dollars a month, for she was determined, if possible, not to draw further upon their hoard. This was destined for a future use, the hope of which trembled constantly in her heart. All her pla

income, and cast about for some means by which she could increase his earnings. She had come to America to

at one of the unfinished pastorals, "you know I sold several short stories for

nished this little thing. You see if the man I sold the boy to

he smiled. "Still, I

ople would come running from all over the city and throw yellow and green bills at you like leaves, till you had to be dug out with long shovels by those funny street-cleaners who go about l

d," she laughed at him. "You know perfectly well that

and you mustn't be literal, da

then," she urged, "and think abo

s how I'll paint you. I've been puzzling over it for days. Darling, it will be my chef d'oeuvre!" He seized her hands. "Think of it! You standing under a great shaft of sun, nude, exalted, your

"You want me to sit to you-li

u're shy!" He put his arms around her, smiling into her face. "You wouldn't mind, darling, for me!" he urged, his chee

-she had given him her beauty, and a denial of it in the service of his art would rebuff the God in him-the creator. She yielded, but she could not express the deeper reason for her emotion. As he

"Don't make the face too like me-just

rifle fr

ype," he puzzled. "I shan't sell the picture, you know

t, dearest." With that

ughed away Mary's stage fright, posed her with a delight which, inspired her, too, so that she stood readily as he suggest

his ideal of her should rise to such splendor; this apotheosis left no place for the pitying tenderness of love, only for its glory. The color of this picture was like the sound of silver trumpets; the heart-throb of the strings was missing. Mary was neither morbid nor introspective, but at this time her

These differed only in detail from her own. A slight lengthening of the corners of the eyes, a fuller and wider mouth were the only changes. But the expression amidst its exal

nothing, telling Stefan only what she was sur

he would have neglected in his enthusiasm for the Dana?, but for Mary's urgings. He obeyed her mandates on practical issues with the unquesti

ents, or back parlors of once fine houses, where they were served nutritious meals on bare boards, in china half an inch thick. Autumn, New York's most beautiful season, was in the air with its heart-lightening tang; energy seemed to flow into them as they breathed. They took long walks in the afternoons to the Park, which Stefan voted hop

s, but art for all that." He made several sketches of them, in which the buildings seemed to sway in a drunken abandonment of power. "Wicked things," he named them, and sa

an, they do not menace, t

re only fit symbols of a super-materialis

ry, who was beginning to develop civic

at's why I like

ould not accept the loan of it from his wife. Mary renewed her determination to be helpful, and sent one of her old stories to a magazine, but without success.

plained, were outside the scope of his magazine, but he thought highly of Mrs. Byrd's manuscript, and advised her to submit it t

u had brought any stories over with you

ecrets unless they ar

" he exclaimed, promptly putting away his brushes, lighting a cigare

r writing; now she was anxious for his approbation. Seated in the rocking chair she read aloud the little story in her cl

so lovingly about a baby. It's a new aspect-the rocker helps.

not notice it in the half light of th

her tone obviously hurt. He jumped

type of fiction; I have no key to it. So my mind wandered a little. I listened to the lovely sounds your voice made, and wa

trasting his indifference with her own absorbed interest in his work. She knew her muse trivi

ation. Nevertheless it oppressed her throughout the evening, so that Stefan commented on her silence. That night as s

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