The Liberal democrat. [volume] (Liberal, Kan.) 1911-1924, 1912-08-23
CHAPTER l.
The Vanishing Portrait. !

The Vanishing Portrait.
Evelyn Grayson, meeting me on the
old Boston Post Road, between Green
witch and Stamford, gave me mes
sage from her uncle. That is the
logical beginning of this story; though
to make everything quite clear from
the start 1t may be better to bark
back few months, to the day on
which Evelyn Grayson and first met
Then, as now, We were each driving
our own car; she. great sixty horse
power machine, all glistening pale vel
low, and |, compact six-cylinder
racer, of dull dusty gray. But we were
not on any such broad, roomy thor.
oughfare as the Boston Post Road. On
the contrary we were short'cuttine
through a narrow, rough lane, beset
by stone walls and interrupted at In
tervals by series OF sharp and
treacherous angles.
know | shall never forget the mo-
mentary impression received. Out
of the golden sunlight, 1t seemed to
me, there had emerged suddenly
tableau of Queen Titania on topaz
throne-the fairest Queen Titania i'm.
agitation ever conjured-and |, in my
mad. painting speed was about to
crash into the gauzy fabric of that
dream creation and rend 1t with
brutal, torturing onrush Of relentless,
hard-driven nickel Steel take no
credit to myself for what did. Volt
ton was absent. My hands acted on
an impulse above and beyond all tardy
mental guidance. For just flashing
instant the gray nose Of my car rose
before me, as in strenuous assault 1t
mounted half way to the coping OF
the roadside wall. felt my seat dart
away from beneath me, was conscious
Of my body in swift, unsupported
aerial flight, and then--but 1t is idle
to attempt to set down the conglom-
crate sensations of that small fraction
of a second, When regained' con-
seriousness, Queen Titania was kneel-
ing.i the dust of the lane beside me
avery distressed and anxious Queen
Titania, with wide, startled eyes, and
Quiveringly sympathetic lips-and
about US were half dozen or more
of the vicinal country folk.
Between that meeting in midway
and this meeting on the old Boston
Post Road in mid-September, there
had been others, of course; for Queen
Tltania, whose everyday name, as
have said, was Evelyn Grayson, was
the niece and ward of my nearest
neighbor, Mr.. Robert Cameron, gen.
tleInan recently come to reside on
what for a century and more had been
known as the old Townsbury Estate,
extending for quite a mile along the
Connecticut shore of Long Island
Sound in the nelghborhood Of Green
witch.
The intervening four months had
witnessed the gradual growth of as
near an approach to intimacy between
Cameron and myself as was possible
considering the manner Of man that
Cameron was. BY which statement l
mean to imply naught to my neigh
boris discredit. He was in all respects
admirable---a gentleman of education
and culture, widely travelled, Of exalt-
ed ideals and noble principles to which
he gave rigid adherence. Butt was
about to qualify this by describing
him as reserved and taciturn. / fear,
though, to give wrong impression.
He was scarcely that. There were
moments, however, when he was unre-
sponsive, and he was never demonstra-
tive. He had more poise than any
man | know. He allowed you to see
just 80 much Of him, and no more. At
times he was almost stubbornly retl-
cent. And yet, in spite OF these quail
tiles, which appeared to be cultivated
rather than inherent, he gave repeated
evidence Of nature at once 80 sim
pie and kindly and sympathetic as to
command both confidence and affec.
ton.
To the progress Of my intimacy
with Evelyn there had been no such
temperamental impeachment. She was
fearlessly outspoken, with a frankness
born Of unspoiled innocence; barely
six weeks having elapsed between her
graduation from the tiny French con-
vent OF Sainte Barbe near Paris and
our perllous encounter in that con.
tracted, treacherous, yet blessed little
Connecticut lane. And she possessed
moreover, a multiplicity Of addition.
al charms, both Of person and dispo.
sition-charms too numerous indeed
to .enumerate, and far too sacred to
discuss. From which II may rightly
be inferred that we understood each
other, Evelyn and |, and that we were
already considerably beyond the state
or condition of mere formal acuuaInt.
anceshlp.
1t was no Queen Tltania who now
came gliding to a stand beside me on
the broad, level, well.olled highway
under a double row Of arching elms. II
was no gossamer fairy, but Hebe, the
Goddess of Youth, with creamy skin
and red lips and lifting melody Of
voice:
What no, Sir Philip! We are well
metl"
And then she told me that her Unclt