The Olneyville tribune. (Providence, R.I.) 1893-189?, 1894-06-02
The stairs were steep, dirty and un-
carpeted. A written card was nailed
on the door of "a third floor back.
'VINcENT BRAND,
Pastel Portraits"

| NAA NootA anu SNOOh lhO NtAAAA
of the apartment A handful of fire
In tiny sheet-iron stove made the
cold of the place more noticeable.
''Mr. Brand, believer"
The occupant, an invalid with death
written in his hollow eyes, on his blue
veined hands, bowed assent.
81 came" said Harwood, declining
the solitary chair which was profiered
him, "about the picture exhibited in
Mercer's window. 1t is not for sale?"
"No, sir.
''Not at large figure?"
The artist did not at once answer.
He was i'll and very poor.
"Not at any price" he said.
''You could not make me copy?"
"No, sir. The truth of the matter
is this: The lady who consented to sit
to me for that picture, did SO ont of
her own sweet charity. She is so
beautiful, and makes such n fine study,
fancied her face would bring me
orders, where one less lovely, even if
! admirable rs likeness, would fail. l
need not enumerate TO you the reasons
why it would be dishonorable for me
TO abuse her kindness.
81 understand your reasons, Mr..
Brand, and respect them. May l give
you an order for life-sized pastel
from this Photographic"
He had fortunately remembered
having in his pocket the picture of
nephew that morning received. The
commissioner would help the poor
artist out.
A light tnp came to the door.
"May come in, Vincent?" called
sweet voice.
The door opened. Frank Harwood
turned to look into the face that had
haunted him waking and sleeping, but
a thousand times fairer than the col
ored crayons had reproduced it.
She half drew back at sight of the
stranger, but Brand called to her.
Come in, Claire I" And then, with
youthful candor: "This gentleman,
was just asking about your portrait. "
She bowed slightly. She was all in
rich furs and deep, glowing velvet.
The elegance of her attire puzzled
Frank Harwood.
81 hope the picture is bringing you
orders, Vincent
''It is, indeed" he answered,
brightly.
"Well, it is late. must go.
just ran in to see how you were getting
on"
He smothered a fit of coughing.
"The basket of delicacies came this
morning. Thank you ever SO much.
You have the carriage? "
''No, am on foot.
81 shall see you home them" the
artist said, looking troubled. "This
is not the best neighborhood in the
world, and it is growing dark"
The fierce cough shook him again
"You shall do nothing of the
kind she said, peremptorily.
Harwood went forward, hat in
hand.
"Will you do me the honor of per-
mitting me to be your escort?" he
asked. 81 am lawyer, residing in
the city. l am sorry / have not
card. My name is Frank Harwo.l."
She had been listening with a some
what naughty air. She smiled now
with sudden friendliness.
81 shall be glad if you will come
with me, " she said, simply.
On their way she told him about
Brand, whom she bad known from
childhood in England.
"He is dying" she said. cit is
hard to help him; he is so proud.
The house before which she paused
was a magnificent one.
Harwood mustered courage enough
to ask if he might call.
"No, she said gently; and then, as
if repenting: 81 shall be at Brands
studio on Friday"
She ran up the steps.
Needless 20 say, Harwood was in the
painters room early Friday afternoon.
The number of orders he gave quite
overwhelmed the artist.
She came at last, her face like a
rose over her dark furs.
They met, not quite by chance,
many times, and still Frank did not