Evening journal., 1899-08-03
THEIR BOHEMIAN JOY


worthy Of your brushl'
He examined the picture again and said
emphaucally: It's daubl Why, it looks
like you'd thrown your brush at the canvas
and let the paint stay where it spattered.
No, you need not try to stop me, for ! m go
ing to finish. l repeat it, your picture is a
mere daub. Van, you're equal to far bet.
work and can't see you turning out such
things, even for potboilers, without protest"
well, Fortescue," dravled Van, With ek.
ssperating coUlness, if you're through allow
me to say that the picture you revile so un.
mercifully is the work OF my sister, who is
at the present moment standing behind YOU
Allow me to present you. Florence, Mr..
Fortescue. Ny sister, Miss Van, who has
come to stay with me, Fortescue."
Then smiling little maliciously Van van
ished and the two so inauspiciously intro.
duced were left alone
A faithful portraiture of Fortoscue's face
at this moment would have made fame and
fortune for any artist that could have paint
ed it. As he looked at the beautiful girl be.
fore him he realized instantly that he had
spoken words which he would have given his
all to recall, and yet there was no escape
from them His criticism Of the picture ap-
Piled with equal force to the girl as it would
have to her brother had be painted it,
and it would but aqgravate his prcdicament
to attempt to excuse them. And yet
But the young lady broke the silence be
tween them, and put an end to bis thoughts
Of au excuse.
so you utterly condemn my poor at
tempt, Mr. Fortescues' she said, gently.
Il was brutel' be exclaimed, impetu-
ously. Pray forget my rude criticism. You
| know l thought it was Van and-and--" he
ended helplcssly.
"And the faults being mine" said Miss
! Florence, with a little laugh, care not SO
/ glaring. Fie, Mr. Fortescue, has ant two
! standards. one for men aud another for
women? No, / fear my picture is as hope
/ less. as you made it out and that l can never
hope to make my living by painting"
''You may improve with practice, or, IL
you find that portraits or landscapes are be-
/ yond you, there are lots of things you caa
employ your brush on-iancy fol-de-rols for
uomen's toilet tables, Christmas cards and
that sort of thing, you know
DO you think a poor painting does
harmH she asked, cautiously
"Yes, indeed" he replied quickly forget
ting the personal nature Of the question; it
does BARN to the painter, who lowers his
\ art, and to those who gaze on it as we'll"
''Well, Mr.. Fortescue, will never be
/ elrilty Of lowering my art again" she said.
And lest this poor picture do any harm, !
I will Stud it to the Home for the Blind, to be
used as a fire screen.
Fortescue, almost confident that she was
laughing at him, looked up sharply, but her
innocent blue eyes were raised to his so con-
fdingly he thought he must be mistaken.
Then. dropping the subject Of the con-
demned picture, she began to talk so enter
tainingy Of, experiences in Paris studios,
with which Fortescue was also familiar, than
! when Van returned he found the pair he had
expected 10 see at dagger's points chatting
like old friends.
Fortescue stayed 10 tea that night, lit
tie bohemian meal served m the studio, a
. which Miss Florence presided with MUGS
. grace.
1t was the first of many meals which he
took with them, sometimes giving httl;
feast in his own apartments, which were
close by. Fortescue seemed to be as happy
go-luclzy in his manner of living as the Vans
sometimes painting fererishly for days TO-
aether. only to draw the brush over the casf
was and obliterate the images he had created
because they did not come up TO his ideal.
Occasionally he would beast Of selling /
n;cture and would then invite his two friend
over to an impromptu fete, only 10 be round
" scolded by Miss Fortesoue for his extrav
hgance.
'But | am not entirely dependent upsl
nv work" he declared, protestingly, afte
such scolding one day, "and as for extrava
oance you are not the one to talk. Hos
} often have | seen you empty your purse
LADY Bountiful, among the little avenu
i, waifs?"
Mistaken identity," said Miss Florence
cooly, "Pm not the only woman with shor'
| light curls in the city"
"The only enc in the world to me,
, murmured Fortescue, softly, so that oni!
' she could hear; and there and then, a
= Van conveRiently removed himself to a ias
OF easel, in few earnest, manly words For
tescue asked her to be his wife
'sTf you will only marry me, Florence
dearest, you viii be a constant inspiration
= 10 me in my work. believe / could paint
great picture with you for my beautiful
, model"
IF 1 thought that, really believe" sai
d she, slowly and solemnly, Il would almos
= be willing TO marry you. Besides, as th
p wife 0f the rising young artist John tortel
cue, ! would not have to paint 'iol-de-rois 10
5 ladies' dresses, Christmas cards and all that
+ YOU knowf for my living" Then she burs
lnto such a peal of dlvery laughter tina
Van, iu his distant corner turned to star
at her.
"Floraace Van Middlesworth, you're
t fraudv said her lovsr, eyeing her with a
, attempt at severity.
"John Fortescue Holiday, you are az
r o.herl' returned Miss Florence, trying .
d evade his arm. which would slip round he
, waist
= Glow long have you knownY' he de
manded.
r. 'eNen. replied his prisoner. "the very da
after ] first met you l had a letter fror
Cousin Fan warming me to be on the lool
out for an impostor named John fortescu
Holiday. a man of artistic temperament
S who played bohemian three months out q
o the year in some obscure quarter Of the city
Z A rank impostor she called you. Perhar
{ she kindly enlightened you also in regard
III meg"
el Holiday laughed a laugh of intense d.
d. light as he answered:
NO; my informant was a very charmin