The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1905-03-31
A Sepia Sketch
~ GEORGIA BEAGLE
~ 1OD night, Harry"

b = ,OD night, Harry"
IT Miss Eastwick's cloak fell to
the floor, and bending forward in her
shimmering satin gown she kissed the
pictured face before her.
1t was a ceremony gone through
every night, as it had been for the last
ten years. In the early days, with
silent tears, in a lavender-scenteda attic;
now cleo trio light was switched on inthe
big studio in Washington, where Har-
ry Lawtons picture hung in its silver
frame to inspire the pastels and dainty
miniatures which had brought Isobel
Eastwick fame.
Ten years ago young Lawton had
sailed for South America, vowing, as
soon as he had home to offer her, to
return and claim 1sobels promise to
wait for him.
Miss Eastwick was nothing if not
constant-nothing if not fanciful, her
friends said, though they did not guess
at the romance of her life, and she had
cherished the memory Of those promises
and the hope that one day her lover
would return.
Paul Maitland was one Of the few
people who knew the whole story, and
in spite of that he had asked her to
marry him.
The question had grieved Miss East
wick's soul. 1t seemed to be rehec-
ton on her constancy. and she was not
a little afraid that this unexpected de-
velopment might end their friendship.
But he had spoken strongly-a great
deal too strongly-on the subject Of
and so forth-he who was really impos-
Hible ugly. And yet
As though to convince herself of his
impossi bility, Miss Eastwick picked up
q sepia sketch of mans head-it was
an ugly face, with the determined jaw
and deep-set eyes-and laid it for mo-
ment beside the water color in its dainty
silver frame. She laughed; the contrast
vas too funny!
Miss Eastwick stood painting in her
studio before an easel, making the most
of the early spring sunshine. The
many successful portraits at last year s
| exhibitions had brought her more work
| than she could do, and she rose early
and labored hard for love of her art.
Paul Maitland had sometimes brought
his fidd lie and played to her in the after
! Moons when her visitors had depart
ed, but to-day he had not come, and
she missed his dark, ugly face, his deep,
refined voice expressing her own half
formed, wholly inexpressible thoughts.
All! there was knock. 1t must be
he! He would not stay away simply
because she could not marry him. A
faint, becoming blush rose to her cheek.
Yes, it was mans tread coming up
stairs, but not Maitland's, surely!
| This was heavier. And this red-faced
red-bearded man, with meaningless
light eyes! Who could he be-? Who:
And then in moment she knew.
'Harry!"
| my gracious! what elegant quarters!
Belle, you are peach!"
A twang that might have been cut
with knife!
Miss Eastwick was speechless. She
|
figure on the hearth rug to the water
color on the wall, and only sickenins
Tread that he had come to claim hel
! 1romise kept her from bursting into
uncomfortable laughter at the shatter
ing of her idol.
I've times and times seen your nam'
in the illustrated papers we've had ii
Lima he was saying, painting daugh
tiers and wives of millionaires
duchesses and lords, and even &;
royal princess. Haven't the boys stare,
when I've told them how you and
were going to be married when my shil
came in!'
You spoke of me like that" Mis-
Eastwick thought; land it was for yo'
that I sent away Paul! And l though
it mattered what man looked like!"
You're an elegant little woman
enough" Mr.. Lawton continued, conde
scendingly. Eliza, now, is a differen
build of a woman. Would make thre
of you!"
Who could Eliza be?
She was bit jealous of you, cal
saw, I've often laid it on how prett,
and dainty you were, to rifle her; bu
I'd always bring her round by tellin!
how, il I'D married you, we'd have bee
sitting on spindle-legged chairs readin
In Memoriam' or some such twaddle
and Eliza'd feel mighty pleased wit
herself"
A great content had come upon Mis-
Eastwlck.
Eliza Is your wife. Is she not wit
vou?"