Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1903-06-12
DAILY SHORT STORY
My Pauper Aristocrat.
IOriginaT.1

important to my story. His clothes
were rather the worse for wear, but
there was refined look about him.
He approached me, lifted his hat po-
litely and asked permission TO look
over my work.
He first made n few pleasant re-
marks about what had done, then be-
gan to talk about pictures in general,
artists, schools, Values-in short, such
matters as are usually known only to
artists. l asked him if he were of the
profession, and he replied that he was
not, nor had he ever touched brush.
From art he began to talk of literature,
and l was astonished at the variety
and scope of his reading. BY this time
he had thrown himself on the grass,
lighted a cigarette first asking my per-
mission) and began to fit from one
subject to another like a bird on the
crest OF successive waves, for he seem
ed to have the faculty of gathering the
eliminating principles from every sub
ject he touched.
You say you are not an artistT'
remarked.
"No."
Nor literary manT
mo-
'You certainly can't be IN business"
"Oh, no. 1 would be like fish in air
in business"
"Then, will you kindly tell me what
you are?'
He smiled. and, turning on me pair
OF handsome eyes in which a twinkle
was set in melancholy, he replied:
81 am a pauper aristocrat.'
"HOw would you like to make n
sketch OF me?" he said abruptly. 81
mean take me for model. If you will
lend me your shawl and few bits Of
your finery 1 will pose for you as an
Italian bandit. You may make sketch
by which to turn an honest penny"
Il prefer you as yourself l said. ain
that indOlent position"
1 sketched for half an hour. then let
him change his position for rest, then
worked another half hour.
Can you give me another sitting to-
morrow ! asked.
"Oh, yes" he replied; my time is
not valuable"
He gave me several sittings on differ
ent mornings. then one morning when
so. This was the last of him. He
passed away from me as though spirit
ed into another realm. 1t seemed as If
the green on the young trees had sud-
denly Drowned. as if the landscape had
lost it's freshness, the water its sparkle.
The portrait was unfinished, though
nearly complete. and left it as it was.
When l returned to the city late in
the autumn 1 had not forgotten my
pauper aristocrat. / do not approve of
people useless to the world and to
themselves, but this man was so frank,
so engaging. so utterly devoid of pre-
tense. He had without leave walked
right into my heart 0nd made himself
at home.
One day during the winter while
scanning n newspaper l came upon n
personal:
Information wanted of Reginald Wal
lace Chandler. who was last seen near
Liberty, Sullivan county. y. Y, during
the previous spring. He then wore
crossbar suit. a straw hat with a blue
band and tan shoes.
My heart stood still. This was my
pauper aristocrat. For what could he
be wanted? Was it for crime, for re-
turn to confinement? l thought over
every possible contingency, dreading to
give information of him for fear of
injuring him. At last l took the pic
ture l had made of him and. going to
the address given in the advertisement,
told of my meeting with him. l was
informed that his uncle, worth many
millions, had gone down. with his
whole family. in a terrible marine dis
aster that had occurred during the past
summer and Reginald Wallace Chan
dler was sole heir at law to the prop
erty
Since 1 could give no Information
of him, a number of photographs were
made of my picture and sent TO de-
tective bureaus in different cities. The
picture itself was placed in Il window
on Fifth avenue in New York, and the
dealer directed to send any one max
ing inquiries about it to me. One
day l was told that a young man
desired to see me in the drawing room.
1 went there and found my pauper
aristocrat He wore the suit he had
worn in the summer, though he had
procured n derby hat.
Pardon me- he said, "for coming |
moniously. 1 felt that was drifting |
where 1 had no right to drift. When |
I saw that picture in the window yes
terday and knew that by it 1 could |
find you / tried to resist the tempta-
ton. Ali the acts of my life have
been failures. How could they be |
otherwise?"
Reginald Wallace Chandler" said,
''you are q millionaire
This is how 1, an artist, became rich
without talent. My husband procured
a small government appointment in
South America, and during a revolu-
ton conducted some government busi-
ness so skillfully that he was appointed
to diplomatic post in Europe, where
wealth was required in lieu of the
small salary. 1t has been lately ru-
mored that he is to be brought home
eth moro iTl1Tor+o nj xx-Of.ly In, VVoS1,