Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1885-02-13
Gales aud Sketthts.
A FAIR FORTUNE HUNTER.

1t was a small. sky-lighted room in the
upper story of the house-a room plainly
furnished were it not for the glow and
beauty of the various unframed oil paint
ings hanging around the wall. betokening
it at once 10 be an artists studio. An
easel stood in the middle of the room
with half finished picture on the rests.
and portfolio of sketches occupied the
table.
Arthur Dorrilon lay on sofa before
the fire, wrapped in shabby dressing
gown. He would have been handsome
if the extreme pallor and pinched rigidity
of his features had allowed. Blue-eyed,
with dark-brown hair, and a wistful. sem
stive mouth, you could scarcely fail TO
see at the first glance that he was ill-fitted
to cope with the rough realities of life.
He should have been "born in the purple, "
instead Of which it was his destiny to
struggle for daily bread.
His mother sat knitting by the window ;
brisk little old woman, with silver hair
parted under the whitest of muslin caps,
and complexion as fresh as a girls, in
spite of the many tne-seamed wrinkles.
But there was a singular lack of express
sion in the wide-open, azure eyes. Mrs.
Dorrilon was stone blind.
Aubrey Moore had come into the melan-
choly little room like CLEAN of sunshine,
with stately presence and CHEEKY
voice. He was one of those who carry
with them wondrous invisible magnet
ism-and though the raven curls that
overhung his brow were already threaded
here and there with sorrow, he was darkly
handsome as one of Byron's heroes.
| T. 10
said the old lady. signing. This east
wind seems TO always aggravate his
cough. and besides, he has severe head
ache
sin other words" said Aubrey. ''he is
barometer who reflects the state of the
weather"
Does it still rain ?" asked Dorrilon
languidiy.
Like a deluge-and the wind blows
most dismally through all the deserted
Streets
The worse for me-" said the young
artist, rising and preparing to change his
shabby dressing gown for still shabbier
coat.
but you are not going out, Dorrilon 81
II must. | give lesson to Mrs. Sey-
mour at twelve, and it is half past eleven
already"
Mrs. Seymour will not expect you in
such weather as this
Il beg your pardon Mrs. Seymour is
the most exacting of all my pupils a
whimsical fine lady. whose last freak is
art, and were | to disappoint her in sc
much as delay of five minutes. the up
shot would be polite dismissal"
Then let her dismiss you; woman
has no right to be quite as unreasonable
as that"
Dorrilon shook his head with smile
and sigh
That's all very we'll, Aubrey Moore
but am a poor artist with an empty
purse. and Mrs. Seymour's dollar lesson
happens to be trihe with which cannot
well afford to dispense"
A paroxysm of coughing cut short his
sentence here; he sat down, pressing one
wasted hand to his side.
But. man, you will be committing sui
eide Here was to buy one of those
pictures, what's your price? Mind. it's to
be understood in the bargain that you stay
at home today. Mrs. Seymour or no Mrs
seymour"
mo. Aubrey" said the young man
!
overcrowded with my poor daubs can
not let patronage degenerate into charity
As long as can earn money. will no
accept aims"
well, look here, Dorrlon, YOU will
admit that am tolerable amateur arts
myself
$50 good a one that cannot put an,
credence in your anxiety to possess more
of my poor efforts"
Give me that portfolio. | will 90 t.
Mrs. Seymour and give the lesson in YOU
stead, today, while you remain by the fire
and recruit
Dorrilon hesitated, but second fit o
coughing seemed to decide the matter
Moore took the portfolio from him will
gentle authority.
.'It's Mrs. Seymour of Gilihower place
isn't it? I'll make your excuses, old fel
low
And he was gone before Arthur Dorr
Ion could better express his thanks Of
plead any objection.
That is Just like Aubrey Moore" sale
the old lady earnestly ''He has the kind
est heart and the noblest impulses in tn,
world. And now, Arthur. lie down again
: Heaven knows you need the rest"
A bright fire of anthracite coal wa
burning in the polished CRATE in Mrs
Seymour's "studio," No. 10 Gillitlowe
place. For Mrs. Seymour, apt to 90 of
: in upaccountable tangents was Just now
enthusiastically devoted to oil painting
"Such divine art ~ she sighed with
shake of her f1aken curls. "When ont
thinks of Rembrandt and Rosa Bonheur
O and all of them dear delightful creatures
u one is actually inspired. as it were"
1t was altogether different apartment
i from Dorrilon's.
Curtains of crimson satin cast roseat,
, shadows on white velvet carpet; tintet
' walls glowed with oil paintings and be
c came instinct with the marble life of dain
9 ty statuttes-japoncas and flame-hearteo
roses cleaned from costly painted vases
and inlaid tables groaned beneath thei
y weight of expensive bijoutere.
For Mrs. Seymour was rich and Mrs
Seymour didn't fairly know what to dt
with her money.
"Ill, is he ?" Dear me, how unfortunat,
and then, you see, such people haven
any business to be i'll. Oh-you are hi
!; substitute-very well, then, it don't mat
], ter so much"
q Mrs. Seymour's face frightened W
from, SIC fret ocpoot rr olo,d oS NJ. NToor.