The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1894-06-07

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| HOHN ARMSTRONG had come te
Paris with heart aglow with
pleasant anticipatiOns and mind
well stocked with sturdy resolu-
| NH tions. Foremost among said reso-
IgH lutions had been the determination
to look up his old-time friends, the Des-
monds-only two of them left now, of all
the merry crew that swarmed about the old
place, just across the sleepy village street
from Armstrong; own home These two
| Kenneth and Honor-had left the little
Southern town, where they had lived all
their careless, uneventful lives, some three
| years before Armstrong had followed them.
| They sold the old home and with the pro-
| ceeds determined to 90 to Paris that Ken
meth might pursue the art that he had de-
cided was his vocation. At first they had
written to Armstrong, but gradually the
correspondence dropped, and with it the
interest that one feels for what was once a
part of ones life.
Armstrong, l grieve to say, never gave
more than passing thought to the people
who had once been his closest friends, until
ali opportune legacy gave him chance to
| rest from business cares, usually synonymous
with a run across to the other side. Now he
began a systematic search-he hunted ate
liers and galleries aud other spots frequented
by the artistic world, and ali with no sue
cess, until one day, struck by certain re-
semblance to Kenneth that he fanced he
saw in a gaunt and hollow-eyed individual,
he instinctively followed him, and traced
him to the top floor of building in small
street of the students quarter.
Obeying an irresistible impulse, Armstrong
| knocked, and the door was at once opened
! by the Gaunt Individual, who gl0wered at
him in anything but inviting fashion. =" L
was told that Mr. Desmond lived here" an
nounced John, mendaciously, his eyes taking
in, with lawyers practiced keenness, every
detail of the bare little room before him.
The Individual hesitated a moment, and
then replied, uncompromisingly, I am he
What can do for you"
John smiled serenely. You don't seem
very pleased to see me yourself" he remark
ed, so you might just tell me where Honor
| is.n
Kenneth recognized his old friend quietly
and decently, and allowed him to come in
and occupy the one available chair his studio
contained, while he balanced himself on the
| window-sill.
"Well, old felIow!n he remarked Be
| hold before you the Successful artisti OBJ
serve the elegance Cf his studio, his tasteful
surroundings, the costly hangings on his
walls, and products Of genius which strew
| the floor" He laughed somewhat bitterly.
john looked grave.
81 do, indeed, see the evidences Of genius"
he began, as he glanced around at numerous
canvases that lined the walls and were piled
against each other on the floor
John went about the room as gravely as
| if he were on hanging committee; the
work seemed, to his Impractical eye, very
attractive, very fresh, and artistic in a man
ner, yet slngularly lacking in something in
definable; the same want appeared In all
| the canvases. Then he came back to Ken
meth. "Tell me aboat it," he said, gently.
Well" said Kenneth, there isn't much
| to tell After spending two years at the
atelier, / found the money was growing
beautifully less--that 1T wouldn't keep us
both; so / knew it would be better to give
| it all to Honor; she could live comfortably
on it, while 1 hustled for myself She
! doesn't know She thinks l can work
better if Pm entirely by myself told her
| seigneur I never allow her to come here,
| and when l 60 to her l array myself in
| purple and fine linen, and look most impos-
| ing, do assure you. My cadaverous aspect
| she attributes to the merry life l lead. /
have an idea that she thinks L waste my
substance in riotous living;" and he laughed
| again, little sadly this time.
John sat in brown study; here was some
| thing for him to do, and he hardly knew
| how to do it. He could not offer to buy his
| friends work-the friend would not have
sold it to him-his pride would have blazed
at once at the thought of taking aims, and
| he would so have regarded an offer to buy
his pictures.
Pulling himself together, he expressed his
| sympathy for Desmond's ill-success, and his
| pleasure at meeting him again, briefly, and
wound up by asking for Honor's address
Kenneth gave it, adding, won't go with
you; Pm too busy" but finally consented
| to try to find time to see Armstrong at his
| apartments few hours later.
| All the way to Honor Desmond's little
home, John revolved plans whereby he might
assist his friend without offending him, but
almost gave up in despair. If he could only
ask Honor about it! She was always so
| quick to see ; but under the circumstances
| she was the last person to know about it,
| He groaned iDwardly, and brought up oppo-
site Honor's d0micile with little start.
| Yes, Mademoisele Desmond was in, the
old concierge told him. Should he have
the pleasure of taking to her the name of
| Msieur?
| "No," said Armstrong, Miss Desmond
expects me-" feeling that the Father of Lies
must, by this time, be regarding him as one
| of his most accomplished sons.
Armstrong climbed the stairs, and was
| just in the act of climbing more stairs, when
| he met what he at once concluded was the
| object of his search; at any rate, it was an
exceedingly pretty girl, and Armstrong felt
that he wouldn't be going far wrong to
accost her in any case
He paused in front of her, but the girl,
barely inclining her head, essayed to pass
| him. Armstrong laid his hand on her arm
! to detain her Like d flash her brown head
was thrown haughtily back, and she turned
to annihilate the intrusive stranger, when
he smiled at her cordially, and exclaimed,
with calm certainty, Honor!"
The expressive face lost its hauteur, looked
puzzled for an instant, then changed again
TO delighted recognition. "Jack!" she cried,
I" is it really you? oh, Jack, how glad am
to see you! When did you come? How
did you know where to. find me? Have you
seen Ken? certafhlS am mighty glad to
see you! How are you all, anyhow"