Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-11-08
IN TIE sfODIO.

one of our greatest living painters. The
Academy exhibitions and the engravers
have made his name and his works famil-
lar 20 the public; the artist himself is
still very little known. At the time l am
referring TO- scarcely year ago, he was
seldom seen in drawing-rooms; he loved
work and hated society.
On the other hand, there was perhaps no
one in all England more certain to be
recognized anywhere than the younger OF
the two ladies l have alluded to. Lady
Weybridge had been for some years past
one of the leaders of society, and its fairest
ornament-the reigning beauty whose
movements were chronicled IN the society
journals, and whose photographs I'm dif-
ferent variety of costumes) were on sale at
every stationers. Since her husbands
death, five years before, gossip, of not
unkindly sort, had been very busy with
her name.
Lord Weybridge had been an elderly
peer of great wealth, and it was expected
that his widow would, after the days OF her
mourning were over, make brilliant
match. But she had refused all offers, and
after five years of widowhood was still
widow-more popular, more fascinating,
and more beautiful than ever. The other
lady, Mrs. Penygant, was Lady Wey-
BRIDGES chief friend and constant COM
panion. The two lived together, and had
done so since Lady Weybridge had laid
aside the most incorporating tokens OF
her mourning.
al
Weybridge, and very plain; her hair was
very light red and her face was treckled.
She wore spectacles, which she took oil
when she wanted to read.
On this particular morning she kept
shifting these contrivances up and down,
as she devoted herself in turns to scanning
the paragraphs in the Weekly Globe and
looking at the beautiful lady sitting for
her portrait and the diligently working
artist Neither of these spoke, and Mrs.
Penygant felt little troubled by their 81
lence. She laid down the Weekly Globe,
adjusted her spectacles. and looked at the
canvas.
'The picture is progressing fast" she
said; sat least, SO it seems to me. But, of
course, don't know. What am so sorry
for is that it can't be exhibited at the
v, oO
long before we can see it there. l wish 1t
was March, instead Of June"
The painter smiled little.
Lady Weybridge glanced at her friend
without turning her head.
"You are such believer in the Acad-
emy, Clara" she said 81 wonder how
many times you've been there this year.
You know, Mr.. Mallett, Mrs. Penygant's
L.. ralo ho
cares of society, is to go to the Academy.
/ don't think she ever gets past the room
where there hangs a certain portrait which
you painted last year"
81 know DON'T" said the elder lady. II
like to stop near that picture and listen to
what people say. There's always crowd
in front of it, and every newcomer says:
That's the beautiful Lady Weybridge,
painted by Walter Mallett, the great art
ist.' and then they all admire with all
their might. The men admire the face
and the figure, and the ladies the dress.
They all admire the painting, though
sometimes their comments are too posi-
lively funny. They nearly always look
out your address, Mr.. Mallett, at the end
of the catalogue, as if they meant to come
and ask you to paint them; and then
nearly everybody says: 'Mallett-Mallett
of course you remember his Androme-
da.' Oh, it is great fun listening to them;
/ am only sorry you two can't hear what
they say about you"
"Such is fame" said the artist lightly.
"Lady Weybridge's beautiful costumes pro-
cure me the admiration of my country, or
al least of my countrywomen."
ooh" broke out Mrs Penygant enthusi-
astically, "you are sure of future fame
generations to come will linger round your
canyases and wonder at your skillp
"But suppose 1 am using bad pig
ments !" said the artist.
The lady paid no attention to the inter-
ruption. She went on with growing rapt-
ure: ~ assure you, l often think Of how
you two will go down to posterity, hand in
hand as it were The beautiful lady and
the great artist Your names will be
linked together, like Raphael and =
and -"
"Pope Julius H." suggested the artist
sNo, don't mean the Pope" said the
other. 81 can't think of her name; there's
a poem of Browning's about it, think"
Lady Weybridge looked little an
noyed,
81 am afraid your Imagination is run
ming wild, Clara" she said.
Then a long silence ensued, the artist
working diligently all the time. AT last
Mrs. Penygant rose, and with little gasp
of establishment, SAID: "Oh, dear Helen, do
you mind my leaving you for little time?
wrote last night to my sister in New
York, and | have forgotten to post the
letter. think the mail goes out at mid
day. 1t won't take me long TO 60 and
come in hanson; and do want to get
the letter off"
Mrs Penygant didn't appear to expect
reply, for she went straight out. At the
door of the studio she glanced back for
half second on the two she was leaving
behind.
ats an awfully lame excuse" she said
to herself; "but am not good at inven-
ton. | think l am doing right; and when
] come back expect they'll both begrate-
full to me-"
The painter took no notice of her going,
but worked on in the same steady way,
and the lady, practised sitter, remained
perfectly fixed in the graceful pose IN
which she was being painted.
Lady Weybridge had never looked love-
lier; she was in evening dress, and in the
heavy masses of her dark hair diamonds
shone. Her neck and arms were bare, and
the noble poise Of her head gave dignity
to the full beauty of their gracious curves
She was radiantly lovely-beyond all pref
tiness-imperially and perfectly beautiful
The artist too was strikingly handsome. He
was about forty five years Of age, tall, and
with clear-sut features. His plentiful
black hair was sprinkled with gray; hi
ewes were dark, the lines of his mouth sug
gested sad and serious frmness. One
would have said that he had seldom smiled
For some time neither spoke; at last thu
lady. whose thoughts were becominE
Io..ll..o,an moved little and said il