Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1895-07-31


the box party there is a dark girl in
red cloak, rich velvet rufaes close
about her throat, red flower in her
jetty hair and few more are in her
hand. This is Janet Townsend at
twenty-five, the clever artist whose
work depicts many scenes in books OF
the day, whose pen and ink sketches
are sought by publishers everywhere:
The ladies are waiting for the crowd
to pass out, SO they may go comfort
ably to their carriage, then the stage
door swings and the star is standing
with tbem-a man OF some thirty.
seven, straight and firm, eyes dark and
tender as woman's, and hair that is
touched with tint of sunshine. He
is O conspicuous figure in the world of
men, yet there is not single trick OF
manner or distinguished feature or
whim to attract. Brilliant, straight
forward, honest and sincere, poet in
nature, he sees the beautiful of life
and recognizes it everywhere.
The ladies shake hands with him,
with words and praise of thanks for o
delightful evening. Janet is the last
to offer her hand, and the others are
passing out toward the lobby as she
does so.
They walk slowly up the short flight
of steps, he still holding her fingers as
if in assistance.
"There is something very peculiar
about this" he is saying. II have
never met you until to-day, and yet it
seems as if I had known you all my
life" The full glare of the electric
light is falling upon her uplifted face.
A flush creeps up to her cheeks, max
ing them alnlest the tint of the ruff1es
about her throat. She smiles brightly.
s'Perhaps we met in some other
world" she says.
s'I am sure we have not; I should
have remembered. Mrs. Allyn tells
me you have made some character
sketches from one of my plays"
~ made them from your photo.
graphs? Would you like to see
them?'
"May II"
"If you care to come tomorrow af-
ternoon shall be pleased to show
them YOU"
he puts her into the carriage with
her friends, and then stands for mo-
ment looking after the brougham roll
ing down the white asphalted street.
"What q glorious woman |"
Janet Townsend's studio is simple
place where artists may always be sure
of finding kindred souls on Friday af-
ternoon, where newspaper men and
publishers drop in and get ideas for
this or that. Pictures, draperies, pot
ted plants, portfolios, and hundreds
of sketches in black and white are all
about.
Janet is talking to well-known
publisher about cover design when
the star enters. She drops the piece
of card and goes forward to greet
him.
~ au so glad you have come. ="
The welcome is simple, but the flush
on her face speaks more than words.
She shows him the sketches, exGuis.
ite work from photographs IN charao-
ter, and one by one, as the day is
drawing to q close, the visitors drift
out, and they are left alone.
A sort of embarrassment creeps
over both.
"You have had a successful season !"
every"
"And you will come this way
again?"
81 hope So. He looks up quickly.
She raises her eyes. He reaches out
his hands and lakes one Of hers.
"Shall I see III when I come again?
May hope that you will look for?"-
His voice has grown very tender and
he is speaking hastily. Into her dark
eyes steals the old sweet wistfulness
they used to wear aud her lips are
trembling. .He notes all this, and the
tight clasp on her hand lightens.
His voice is changed when he speaks
again.
~ am glad I met you, Miss Town
send. I shall always remember you"
He drops her hand. "Adieu!" She
is not looking at him now. He raises
her chin with the tops of his fingers.
"God bless your bonnie brown eyes
Janet"
He speaks her name 80 softly that
she scarcely hears it, the curtains part
and fall between them, and she is
standing alone.
If she sinks in to chair and throws
her arms over the portfolio on the
table containing his pictures, there is
no one there TO see.
Bohemia. world Of heartaches and
partings, of dead sea fruit, so beauti-
full, so bitter, yet so sweet.
AT TwENTY-SEyEN.
Thara is n cottnoa in the heart of