The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1895-04-04
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As soon as Belle had gone Mrs. Maine
went upstairs, ordered her carriage, to the
dismay of her coachman, and wrapped her.
self in furs.
"Drive to Lambe's gallery, in Bond street,
she said, as she got into the brougham
With some difficulty the coacbman found
his way there, and Mrs. Maine entered the
gallery under the pretense of choosing some
etchings, entered into conversation with one
of the attendants, polite young man, whose
one desire In life seemed to he to afford his
employers customers exclusive information
on all matters connected with art
You haven't any pictures by Robert
Slade for sale at present / suppose?" she
asked eventually, with an affeciation OF
careless indifference that she was far from
| feeling.
No. they had none just then, she was told.
Il l1lear his prices are going up" Mrs.
! Maine continued warmly.
To her surprise aud delight the young
man acquiesced. Mr. SHADES fame was in
creasing rather than diminishing in the art
world, he DECLARED. There was tremen-
dous run on all his work and dealers were
quite prepared to pay very large sums for
| the smallest outcome Of his talent.
This was all that Mrs. Maine desired to
know, and she drove home well pleased, but
a triile puzzled.
Il wonder how Belle came to make such
| a mistake" she thought. "There is evi-
IDENTIFY nothing of the waning celebrity about
nay lover"
She picked up his card again in the draw
ing-room and smiled as she looked at tue
Z. Il. c." in the corner.
wonder what he felt like when he
stnnd do nj
letters 2" she said to herself "Well, after
dinner will sit down and write him note
that will put him out of his misery. l
wonder if Belle saw him as she was going
away, and whether she will send around
to tell me how he l0oked?"
But no communication arrived from the
Comtesse de Rinski, and Mrs. Maine could
only 90 ON wondering.
1t was just after 8 o'clock when she sat
down 10 write to the artist. She had
thought things thoroughly over and had
| made up her mind that she was tired of be-
iag widow and that Roger Slade would be
the Ideal husband, handsome, affcctionate,
and, best of ali, successful. Yes, she was
assured of that last and most important
fact now, and the assurance made her eyes
glitter with eagerness and her cheek flush
as she picked up pen and drew sheet of
paper toward her.
My Dear Mr.. Slade" she wrote, and
then she was interrupted by the entrance
of the footman with a salyer.
"A note for you, ma'am," he said. "There
is no answer"
Mrs. Maine took it up and saw that the
address was in Roger SHADES hand writing.
She smiled. 81 He has reconsidered his
p. p. c. she thought "and written again
to beg me TO marry him. How he loves
me-" And she tore the note open and read
it swiftly:
DEAR Mrs. MAINE: As was leaving your
door this afternoon after receiving your reply to
my letter, encountered your friend the Cointesse
de knsRi, who told me she had just been with
you. She drove home. and somehow
moved 10 tell her of my irouble-a bic that
have put away from me now. hope forever. Al
forgive me for saying it-cruelly heartlcss con-
duct toward rae Hs friend should, could see
that had all her womanly sympathy, and-welI,
TO make long story short. j asked her 10 give II
TO for all time At first she refused absolutely;
she said thai il was impossible. after what / had
just told her. But at last she consented TO be my
aifc-ont OF pity, perhaps. Yet pity often grows
into love. She is true woman. Give me your
fours, sincerely, ROGER SLADE.
Mrs Maine stood still by the table with
the letter in her hand. Her face was very
white. Then she let it slip to the floor as
she murmured with trembling lips: "a
true woman. Yes, and the richest woman
IN LondoDi"
A new thought seemed to strike her, and
she shuddered as if with cold, as she added
In whisper: "And she kissed me as she
WENT l"-Loadon World.