the artist of the beautiful-第6部分

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feel　the　fitting　sentiment　which　should　be　the　perfect　recompense

of　an　artist　who；　symbolizing　a　lofty　moral　by　a　material

trifle；converting　what　was　earthly　to　spiritual　gold；had　won

the　beautiful　into　his　handiwork。　Not　at　this　latest　moment　was

he　to　learn　that　the　reward　of　all　high　performance　must　be

sought　within　itself；　or　sought　in　vain。　There　was；　however；　a

view　of　the　matter　which　Annie　and　her　husband；　and　even　Peter

Hovenden；　might　fully　have　understood；　and　which　would　have

satisfied　them　that　the　toil　of　years　had　here　been　worthily

bestowed。　Owen　Warland　might　have　told　them　that　this　butterfly；

this　plaything；　this　bridal　gift　of　a　poor　watchmaker　to　a

blacksmith's　wife；　was；　in　truth；　a　gem　of　art　that　a　monarch

would　have　purchased　with　honors　and　abundant　wealth；　and　have

treasured　it　among　the　jewels　of　his　kingdom　as　the　most　unique

and　wondrous　of　them　all。　But　the　artist　smiled　and　kept　the

secret　to　himself　。



〃Father；〃　said　Annie；　thinking　that　a　word　of　praise　from　the　old

watchmaker　might　gratify　his　former　apprentice；　〃do　come　and

admire　this　pretty　butterfly。〃



〃Let　us　see；〃　said　Peter　Hovenden；　rising　from　his　chair；　with　a

sneer　upon　his　face　that　always　made　people　doubt；　as　he　himself

did；　in　everything　but　a　material　existence。　〃Here　is　my　finger

for　it　to　alight　upon。　I　shall　understand　it　better　when　once　I

have　touched　it。〃



But；　to　the　increased　astonishment　of　Annie；　when　the　tip　of　her

father's　finger　was　pressed　against　that　of　her　husband；　on　which

the　butterfly　still　rested；　the　insect　drooped　its　wings　and

seemed　on　the　point　of　falling　to　the　floor。　Even　the　bright

spots　of　gold　upon　its　wings　and　body；　unless　her　eyes　deceived

her；　grew　dim；　and　the　glowing　purple　took　a　dusky　hue；　and　the

starry　lustre　that　gleamed　around　the　blacksmith's　hand　became

faint　and　vanished。



〃It　is　dying！　it　is　dying！〃　cried　Annie；　in　alarm。



〃It　has　been　delicately　wrought；〃　said　the　artist；　calmly。　〃As　I

told　you；　it　has　imbibed　a　spiritual　essencecall　it　magnetism；

or　what　you　will。　In　an　atmosphere　of　doubt　and　mockery　its

exquisite　susceptibility　suffers　torture；　as　does　the　soul　of　him

who　instilled　his　own　life　into　it。　It　has　already　lost　its

beauty；　in　a　few　moments　more　its　mechanism　would　be　irreparably

injured。〃



〃Take　away　your　hand；　father！〃　entreated　Annie；　turning　pale。

〃Here　is　my　child；　let　it　rest　on　his　innocent　hand。　There；

perhaps；　its　life　will　revive　and　its　colors　grow　brighter　than

ever。〃



Her　father；　with　an　acrid　smile；　withdrew　his　finger。　The

butterfly　then　appeared　to　recover　the　power　of　voluntary　motion；

while　its　hues　assumed　much　of　their　original　lustre；　and　the

gleam　of　starlight；　which　was　its　most　ethereal　attribute；　again

formed　a　halo　round　about　it。　At　first；　when　transferred　from

Robert　Danforth's　hand　to　the　small　finger　of　the　child；　this

radiance　grew　so　powerful　that　it　positively　threw　the　little

fellow's　shadow　back　against　the　wall。　He；　meanwhile；　extended

his　plump　hand　as　he　had　seen　his　father　and　mother　do；　and

watched　the　waving　of　the　insect's　wings　with　infantine　delight。

Nevertheless；　there　was　a　certain　odd　expression　of　sagacity　that

made　Owen　Warland　feel　as　if　here　were　old　Pete　Hovenden；

partially；　and　but　partially；　redeemed　from　his　hard　scepticism

into　childish　faith。



〃How　wise　the　little　monkey　looks！〃　whispered　Robert　Danforth　to

his　wife。



〃I　never　saw　such　a　look　on　a　child's　face；〃　answered　Annie；

admiring　her　own　infant；　and　with　good　reason；　far　more　than　the

artistic　butterfly。　〃The　darling　knows　more　of　the　mystery　than

we　do。〃



As　if　the　butterfly；　like　the　artist；　were　conscious　of　something

not　entirely　congenial　in　the　child's　nature；　it　alternately

sparkled　and　grew　dim。　At　length　it　arose　from　the　small　hand　of

the　infant　with　an　airy　motion　that　seemed　to　bear　it　upward

without　an　effort；　as　if　the　ethereal　instincts　with　which　its

master's　spirit　had　endowed　it　impelled　this　fair　vision

involuntarily　to　a　higher　sphere。　Had　there　been　no　obstruction；

it　might　have　soared　into　the　sky　and　grown　immortal。　But　its

lustre　gleamed　upon　the　ceiling；　the　exquisite　texture　of　its

wings　brushed　against　that　earthly　medium；　and　a　sparkle　or　two；

as　of　stardust；　floated　downward　and　lay　glimmering　on　the

carpet。　Then　the　butterfly　came　fluttering　down；　and；　instead　of

returning　to　the　infant；　was　apparently　attracted　towards　the

artist's　hand。



〃Not　so！　not　so！〃　murmured　Owen　Warland；　as　if　his　handiwork

could　have　understood　him。　〃Thou　has　gone　forth　out　of　thy

master's　heart。　There　is　no　return　for　thee。〃



With　a　wavering　movement；　and　emitting　a　tremulous　radiance；　the

butterfly　struggled；　as　it　were；　towards　the　infant；　and　was

about　to　alight　upon　his　finger；　but　while　it　still　hovered　in

the　air；　the　little　child　of　strength；　with　his　grandsire's　sharp

and　shrewd　expression　in　his　face；　made　a　snatch　at　the

marvellous　insect　and　compressed　it　in　his　hand。　Annie　screamed。

Old　Peter　Hovenden　burst　into　a　cold　and　scornful　laugh。　The

blacksmith；　by　main　force；　unclosed　the　infant's　hand；　and　found

within　the　palm　a　small　heap　of　glittering　fragments；　whence　the

mystery　of　beauty　had　fled　forever。　And　as　for　Owen　Warland；　he

looked　placidly　at　what　seemed　the　ruin　of　his　life's　labor；　and

which　was　yet　no　ruin。　He　had　caught　a　far　other　butterfly　than

this。　When　the　artist　rose　high　enough　to　achieve　the　beautiful；

the　symbol　by　which　he　made　it　perceptible　to　mortal　senses

became　of　little　value　in　his　eyes　while　his　spirit　possessed

itself　in　the　enjoyment　of　the　reality。







End