Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1896-07-09
A PASTEL PORTRAIT.

Harwood.
"No, sir he was told,
"Can you tell mo the naine OF the origi-
nal?"
II do not krov it, sir. Tho portrait
was left h-re ~ "A sample to solicit orders.
"You arc sure it is portrait-not Nero
ly an ideal head?''
"Thc artist said So
''Givo mo his name and address, please"
But when the rising young barristcr had
tho slip safe in his pocketbook and was out
again in the white wintry world he began
to feel uncomfortahly conscious that in
this particular instance he was not acting
with the discretion on which he ordinarily
prided himself.
He was a trifle troubled, too, by the
recollection of % certain conversation held
With his aunt the previous evening. She
was the dearest old lady in the world and
the most generous. She had brought
young Harwood up and given him the best
prucurable education and three years of
continental travel. But on one point, the
| question of his probable marriage, sho was
inclined, he thought, to be- dictatorial.
So you refuse to meet Miss Fainsworth,
Frank she had asked.
"As Il sutton, yes, he had replied posi-
lively
Frank felt TINT he must see the original
Of the portrait, 50 discretion was thrown to
the winds. and, starting ON his quest, he
reached a row of high, fiat faced. drcary,
red brick houses. In one of these the artist
must live.
He found the number and rang the bell
a surly woman, with a smudse of SCOT on
her cheek. opened the door,
Mr. Vincent Brandt asked HARDWOOD.
Third floor back, she returned shortly.
HARDWOOD knocked. \ voice bade him
enter He went in. The room was large
bare. dreary Some sketches were tackled
on the walls. An easel and chair stood in
tie center Of the apartment \ handful
of fire and "a tiny sheet iron stove n1ado the
cold of the piace moro noticeable.
Mr. Brand, bclieve?'
The occupant, an invalid with death
written in his hollow eyes, On his blue
veined hands, bowed assent.
Il came said Harwood declining the
solitary chair which was proifered him,
about the picture exhibited in Morcer's
window. 1t is not for salef"
mo, sir
Not at a large hsure?"
The artist did not at once answer. He
was Ill 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 young lady who consented to
sit for me for that picture did so out Of
/ her own sweet charity. She is "a beautiful
/ aud makes such fine study | fancied her
/ face would bring me orders, where one less
lovely, even If admirable as a likeness
would fail | need not enumerate to you
/ tho reasons why 1T would be dishonorablo
! for me to abuse her kindness
1 Il understand your reasons, Mr.. Brand,
and respect them. May give you an order
] for life sized pastel from this photo
4 graph2'
He had fortunately remembered having
In his pocket the picture of a nephew that
morning received. The commission would
| help the poor artist
\ light tap came to the door.
MAY como in, Vincent2'' called a
sweet voice.
Tho door opened. Frank Harwood
turned to look into the face that had
haunted him waking and sleeping, but
/ thousand times fnirer than the colored
crayons had reproduced il
She half draw back at the sight OF the
stranger, but Brand called to her:
Come in, Claire!' And then with
youthful ca.4dor, 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 HARDWOOD.
Il hops the picture is bringing you
orders, Vincent
at is, indeed, he answered brightly.
"Well, it Is late. must go. l just ran
In to see how you We're getting on. ~
He smothcrcd in fit of coughing,
you have the carriage2"
Ono. l am on foot. ."
Il shall see you home, then" the artist
said looking troubled. This is not the
best neigh burhOod in the world, and 1t 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 permitting
mo to accompany you? l am sorry have
not a card. My name is Frank Harwood. "
She had been listening with u somewhat
naughty air. She smiled now with sudden
friendliness.
~ shall be glad If you will come with
me, " she said simply.
On their way she told him about Brand,
whom she had known from childhood He
is dying, she said. 1T Is hard to help
| him, he Is so PROUD!
The house before which she paused was
magnificent one.
Harwood mustered courage to ask II he
might call.
NO" she said gently, and then, as if
repenting, II shall be at Brand studio
Oh Friday"
She ran up the steps.
Needless to say HARDWOOD was in the
painter room early on Friday afternoon.
The number of orders he gave quite over
| whelmed the artist.
She came at last, her face like rose
over her dark furs.
They met, not quite by chance, many
times, and still Frank did not learn her
name. He called her Miss Claire.
One evening, when he was leaving the
studio with her, he told her the story of