Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1894-06-08
A PASTEL PORTRAIT.
BY KATE NJ. cLEABY.


was no denying that. Frank Harwood
stood at the window of the print store
and stared in at it, as he had done
everyday for the past week. The exc
cution of the work was not faultless.
Some crudities marred it, but the en-
semble was bewitching.
The faca-that of girl il the first
fresh bloom of maidenhood-looked
back ut you over one mistily-draped
white shoulder. The liquid eyes we're
laughter-lit; the slightly parted scar
let lips had shy droop; there was a
little, round dimple in the chin; the
hair that melted into the soft gown and
dusky background was wind-blown
tangle of reddish-gold
Harwood had often determined to
enter and make an attempt to discover
the identity of the original of the pic
ture, but his courage had always failed
him. Today he forced himself to the
accomplishment of his desire.
He entered the store, shutting out
the whirling snowAakes behind him.
SIS that picture--the pastal portrait
in the window-for sale?" he in
quired.
ssNo 81. - he ,,,o. toId
"Can you tell me the name of the
original?
81 do not know it, sir. The por-
trait was left here as sample to solicit
orders.
''You are sure it is a portrait-not
merely an ideal head?"
'The artist said so. "
"Give me his name and address,
pleasel''
But when the rising young lawyer
had the slip safe in his pocket-book,
and was out again in the white winter
world, he began to feel uncomfortable
wenscious tirat in this particular in
stance he was not acting with the dis
cretion on which he ordinarily prided
himself.
He was trife troubled, too, by the
recollection of certain conversation
held with his aunt the previous even
ing. She was the dearest old lady in
the world, and the most generous.
She had brought young Harwood up,
given him the best procurable educa-
ton and three years of European ira
vel. But on one point, the question
OF his probable marriage, she was in
clined TO be dictorial.
$50 you refuse to meet Miss Fains-
worth, Frank?" she had asked.
Gas a suitor he replied posi-
lively.
He was rather tired of having his
aunt assure him that he never would
meet girl as beautiful, amiable, ac-
complished, altogether desirable as
Miss Fainsworth.
Frank" she asked, hastily, as
startling possibility occurred to her,
sis there any one else?"
He hesitated. She repeated the
question. He recalled the face in the
print shop window. He answered
truthfully.
"Yes," he said.
"What is her name, Frank?"
81 do not know"
She looked at him sharply.
"Where does she live?"
'I do not know that either"
Frank, she said, in low voice,
''surely you have not been drink
ing?"
He laughed out bcyishly.
'tNo, Aunt Mary; / don't drink.
But I'm afraid I'm nonsensically in
love-"
He laughed again now as he recol-
leeted the wondering dismay on his
aunt's face. A passer-by turned to
look at him. He had reached row
of high, fat-faced, dreary, red brick
houses. In one of these the artist
must live.
He found the number. rang the bell.
A surly woman with smudge of SCOT
on her cheek opened the door.
"Mr Vincent Brandt" asked Har-
wood
'eThird floor back, she returned,
shortly.
She disappeared, leaving him to
find his way up as best he could.
The stairs were steep, dirty and un-
carpeted. A written card was nailed
on the door of ''a third floor back.
"VNcENT BRAND,
Pastel Portraits. .
Harwood knocked. A voice bade
him enter. He went in. The room
was large, bare, dreary. Some
sketches we're tackled on the walls.
An easel and chair stood in the centre
of the apartment handful of fire
in tiny sheet-iron stove made the
cold of the place more noticeable.
''Mr. Brand, believer
The occupant, IN invalid with death
written in his hollow eyes, on his blue
yeined hands, bowed assent.
II came, said Harwood, declining
The solitary chair which WAS proffer2d