The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1880-09-18

| och, put IN Gno V1Slt0r. :" our SER
want placed my card there"
Leonard Hartley, taking it up, read
" Mr.. John Kesteven, Belgrave Square. -
suppose, Mr.. Kesteven, remarked
he, bowling slightly in acknowledgment
OF the introduction, s'the business that
has favored me with this visit is profess
sional ?'
"Exactly-perfectly, replied the old
gentleman, passing one hand hesitatingly
over the other. eyes, quite professional.
In fact, want you to do me the favor
OF taking portrait at once"
Your own, may | askp"
"MineP Oh, no! My daughters
my only child's. She is very beautiful
worthy, assure yon, of any artists
brush!" .t..r
81 do not doubt that for a moment
The only thing is the time. have al
ready many engagements"
" will pay any thing if you'll put
them aside for me-" broke in the Wis
itor, earnestly. "Yes; the only thing
IS the time His eyes wandered to-
ward dark corner where the lay figure
was dancing CHASTITY minuet by itself.
"Listen to the circumstances, and you
shall Judge! l can only say your price
shall be mine!'
Rather curious, for there seemed a
singular restlessness in his guest, Leon
ard Hartley, drawing his chair nearer,
prepared to listen. a8 s4
Mr.. Kesteven moved his hands to-
| gether, opened them, looked at them
both sides, as if doubtful of their clean
| illness, then began: "The truth is, Mr..
Hartley, my daughter has a rooted
aversion to having her portrait taken
or rather, to the trying ordeal of the ne
cessity OF sittings; consequently, I-she
is my only child, and am perhaps fool
ishly fond of her''-again pause and q
scrutiny of the well-kept hands-"I
wish it to be done without her know
ing. In fact, it must be done so, or not
at all!''
"That, Mr.. Kesteven, is a difficulty
through which confess / do rot see my
way,'' said Leonard Hartley, smiling.
"Oh, it will be easy" was the quick
response. Singularly enough, my
my daughters own words suggested the
means. Mr.. Hartley, do you remember
the c0nUersazi0ne six weeks ago?"
Certainly"
1t was there, then, that my daugh-
ter remarked she should like you to paint
her portrait, if any one did; but she
added, IF l am ever to have it taken,
it must be in my sleep, when do not
know what is going on
ga singular fancy" smiled the artist.
"It Isl but one that, for the sake of
having a likeness of her, the only being
| have to love-" went on the visitor,
still restlessly, Z" I would yield to at any
cost. Now my daughter has not been
well lately. She is delicate; that makes
me nervous. Perhaps you perceive it?
10 insure her rest an opiate is admin
istered to her every day after dinner.
We make it five now, when she has
long sleep-a sound sleep on the sofa in
the drawing-room. There is no fear of
her waking. Would you, MIR. Hartley,
consent to humor her desire, and take
her likeness thenp"
Leonard Hartley paused, considering.
I" You see, for good portrait, SO
much rests on expression, !" he said.
Z" am aware of that; therefore I
have come to good painter" AndMr.
Kesteven bowed, "You shall have help,
Mr.. HEARTILY, from her dear dead
mothers miniature, taken when at her
age. The eyes, the expression, are
Mabel's own Stay. Pardon me: I
have yet one other thing to ask. Could
you, in four evenings -making the hours
as long as you please-take the likeness
sufficiently to finish it from recollection
and the miniatures add
The artist answered that he could;
and finally, the terms, handsome ones,
never demurred at by Mr.. Kesteven,
being settled, it was arranged that
Leonard Hartley should make his first
visit the next evening.
"Well, if there was ever stranger
within than this!" he reflected, as easel,
colors, canvas having been sent during
the day, little before the appointed
hour he proceeded to Belgrave Square.
Reaching his destination he was at
once ushered into the library, where he
found Mr.. Kesteven waiting.
"Mr. Hartley" exclaimed the old man,
pressing his hand warmly, 81 shall
never forget your kindness. All, when
you are married, with children of your
own, you'll know what a fathers love is;
but / trust it will not be for daughter
so delicate, poor girl, as mine. If you
see me moved, know that is the cause.
Now, if you please, we will 60"
Opening the door Mr.. Kesteven led
the way on up to the thickly-carpete
stairs, and showed the artist into the
drawing-room. The soft, subdued light
burning there displayed the tasteful ele-
gance of the furniture. But Leonard
Hartley's eyes went quickly to the
couch. He could not help starting as
he beheld lying on it in quiet slumber
one of the loveliest girls he had ever
seen.
Her complexion was of singular fair
ness, while the bloom on her cheeks
was as delicate as fresh blown rose.
Her hair, of soft gold brown, was
braided back, and apparently confined
by cluster of forget-me-nots. She
was in evening dress, and lay, the ivory
lids with their long silken lashes closed,
with one hand lightly on her bosom, the
other by her side. AS the father had
said, that sweet face was worthy any
painters brush; and Leonard Hartley
felt, despite the singularity of the cir
cumstances, that here he would exceed
his hast l