Evening journal., 1899-09-08
THEIR BOHEMIAN JOY

worthy Of your brushl"
lie examined the picture again and said |
emphatically: It's daubl Why il looks |
like you'd thrown your brush at the canvas
and lei the paint stay where it spattered.
No, you need not try to stop me, for I'm 60
ing to finish. repeat it, your picture is
mere daub. Van, you're equal TO far bet
work and 1 can't see you turning out such
things, even for potboilers, without protest"
"Well, Fortescue," drawled Van, with ex.
asperating coolness, III you're through allow
me TO say that the picture you revile so un-
mercifully is the work Of my sister, who IL
at the present moment standing behind you.
Allow me to present you. Florence, Mr..
Fortescue My sister, Miss Van, who has
come to stay with me, Forteseue."
Then smiling little mahciously Van van.
ished and the two so inauspisiously intro
dueed we've left alone
A faithful portraiture Of Fortescue'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 wrs no escape
from them. His criticism of the picture APP
piled with equal force to the girl as il would
have to her brother had he painted it,
and it would but aggravate his predicament
to attempt to excuse them. And yet
But the young lady broke the silence he.
tween them, and put an end to his thoughts
Of an excuse.
80 you utterly sondemn my poor at
tempt, Mr.. FortescueY she said, gently.
81 was brutel" be exclaimed, impotu.
ously. Pray forget my rude criticism. y on
/ know / thought it was Van and-and-" he
ended helplessly.
"And the faults being mine," said Miss
! Florence, with a little laugh, "are not so
! glaring. Fie, Mr.. Fortescue, has art two
standards, one for men and another for
womeng No, / fear my picture is as hope.
less as you made it out and that ! can never
hope to make my living by painting"
you may improve with practice, or, II
you find that portraits or landscapes are be-
yond you, there are lots Of things you eau
employ your brush on-ianoy fol-de-rols for
women's toilet tables, Christmas cards and
that sort Of thing, you know
do you think a poor painting does
harm? she asked, cautiously
"Yes, indeed" he replied, quickly forget.
ting the personal nature Of the question; 1t
does harm TO the painter, who lowers his
art, aud to those who gaze on it as well"
"Wel, Mr.. Bortescue, will never be
guilty Of lowering my art again." she said.
And lest this poor picture do any harm,
will send 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.
ddingly he thought he must be mistaken.
Then, dropping the subject Of the con.
demned picture, she began to talk so enter
tainMgly Of experiences in Paris studios
with which Fortescue was also familiar, that
when Van returned he found the pair he had
expected to see at daggers points chatting
like old friends.
Fortescue stayed TO tea that night, lit
tie bohemian meal served IN the studio, a
which Miss Florence presided with mucl
grace.
1t was the first Of many meals which hI
took with them, sometimes giving a it'll
feast in his own apartments, whigh wer
close by. Fortescue seemed TO be as happy
go-luolSy In his manner Of living as the Vans
sometimes painting feverishly for days TO
gether, only 10 draw the brush over the can
vas and obliterate the images be had created
because they did not come up to bis ideal.
Occasionally he would boast Of selling
picture and would uen invite his two friend
over to an inprompIu fete, only to be round
ly scoded by Miss Fortescue for his extrav
, agance.
"But l am not entirely dependent upoI
my work." he declared, protestingly, afte
such soolding one day, "and as for extrava
gance you are not the one to talk. How
often have / seen you empty your purse
Lady Bountiful, among the little avenu
waifsW
Mistaken identity" said Miss Florence
coolly, "I'm not the only woman with short
light curls in the city"
e '.The only one in the world to me,
I murmured Fortescue, softly, so that onl
r she could hear; and there and then, a
: Van conveniently removed himself to fai
off easel, in a few earnest, manly words Fol-
tescue asked her TO be his wife.
"If you will only marry me, Florence
dearest, you will be a constant inspiration
e to me in my work. believe could paint
e great picture with You for my beautift
o model"
y "If ] thought that l really believe sal
g she. slowly and solemnly, Il would almos
e be willing to marry you. Besides as th
. wife Of the rising young artist John forte
- cue, would not nave 10 pant lVi-ue-l We To-
ladies dresses, Christmas cards and all tha
d you know for my living" Then she bur'
u into such a peal Of alvery laughter tina
. Van, in his distant corner, turned to star
i at her.
Florence Van Middlesworth, you're
10 fraudl" said her lover, eyoing her with a
, attempt at severity.
John Fortescue Holiday, you are al
oiherl" returned Miss Florence, trying
II evade his arm, which would slip round b
}. waist.
2, Chow long have you knownt" he d
.e manded.
J. "Well," replied his prisoner, "the very da
= after first met you / had letter froi
Cousin Fan warning me to be on the lool
out for an impostor named John Fortesc
D. Holiday, a man af artistic Temperament
v who played bohemian three months out
D. the year in some obscure quarter Of the cit
D. A rank impostor she called you. Perhal
s. she kindly enlightened you also in regard
me"
Holiday laughed a laugh Of intense d
light as he answered
mo; my informant was a very charmir
lr old gentleman whom met in Paris just b
, f,ro rofs,rnirr hare He told mo he had