MY LADY OF THE FIELD OF BLOOD
led the way along a winding path into the very heart of the now
rapidly darkening wood. Carl had no alternative but to follow.
Darkness had settled perceptibly, and the myriad stars were out
ere his guide stopped before a solitary cottage and bade him enter.
Wondering, and yet with a feeling of absolute security, Carl
entered. In the long hall a single lamp was burning, but even
by its dim light he could see evidences of taste and refinement.
And still his wonder grew.
But puzzled and curious as he was, it was not until the plain
supper was over, and he and his fair hostess had wandered out
upon the wide portico, that he learned the reason for her self
burial in the depths of the forest.
It seemed that when she was yet but a child her mother had
died, and her father, broken-hearted, had given up his worldly
pursuits and had come into the very heart of nature, that he
might not be tortured by the recollections which familiar scenes
would bring. And here they had lived ever since, with but one
faithful servant, and with nature and books for companions.
While she told her plain little story, Carl sat in the shadow and
listened, at times with closed eyes, to the sweet, bird-like voice of
the speaker. And at other times he watched the moonlight play
ing in her hair, and felt his soul stirred by the lightning changes
of emotion depicted on her face. And all the while a great idea
had been forming in his mind. For it had suddenly come to him
that he was able to paint this beauty with full justice, and he set
his whole heart upon it, and declared to himself that this should
be his master-piece, as well as the work which should make him
famous.
It was not until the next morning that Carl dared to broach the
subject nearest his heart. And even then he did it not without
some fear and trembling. At first her father was stern and un
yielding, but as he saw the look of intense disappointment that
filled the petitioner's face he relented and gave a reluctant consent.
And Carl was happy beyond measure.
He chose a well-lighted, east room in the cottage, and there,
next day, he transferred his materials. And before the week was
out he was at work. And so absorbed in his work did he become
that he scarce took time to eat and sleep. And he always breathed
a great sigh of regret when evening came and darkness ended his