Putnam patriot. [volume] (Putnam, Conn.) 1872-1962, 1917-01-05
FATF'S OTHER FACE
Sylvia Discovered When She
Saw 1t That Ii Was 10y.
BY JEAN pIcKERsoN.

A<ht SO1aStAe sAC tehAatt
fishing contents of her little beaded
purse. she left the dingy hall bedroom
and sought the nearest dairy lunch
Ever since she had lost her position
as bookkeeper with the large imporv
ing house which had crashed to ruin
with many other business failures OF
the season. Sylvia had sought in vain
for another position. There was no
one at home to whom she might ap-
peal for help; Aunt Susan. her only
relative. had her stout heart and
hands full bringing up a family of
healthy boys and girls. Sylvia could
not add to their burdens-and yet.
what could she do?
All morning Sylvia had personally
answered advertisements culled from
first editions of the newspapers. She
was tired and disheartened.
When her meager lunch was over
she left the restaurant and walked
toward the brilliant avenue which
threads the duller cross streets. At
the corner hung the sign of a well
known art gallery, There was an
exhibition going on and Sylvia 8
beauty-loving soul craving some
thing beyond the sordidness of her
day life, prompted her to push
open se plate glass doors and enter
T'.c~a were few visitors at this hour
and the girl gowned in shabby blue
serge had the rooms to herself, save
for the watehful presence of scattered
attendants.
For an hour Sylvia reveled In the
beauty that was spread on the walls.
A catalogue gave bits of information
concerning m, ny of the paintings.
There was one by an old master.
whose history was world-renowned.
It's presence in the gallery was a
nine days wonder.
Beyond this picture was another
that held the girl entranced by its
suggestion of mystery. 1t was called
"Fates Face" and depicted the
shrouded form of a woman with two
faces. One face, turned away, was
closely yelled; the other, darkly
beautiful, looked out with sorrowful,
tragic eyes.
Il wonder what is beneath the other
veil?" thought Sylvia. Il would like
to see Fate's other facet This one
Expresses me with its woe-as If it
predicted what might happen to me-"
Overcome with sudden dread of the
uncertain future, Sylvia sank down
on a cushioned bench and covered her
eyes with her fingers.
So absorbed was she in the harrow
ing cares that beset her that she did
not hear quiet footsteps on the pol
ished floor. Steps that hestated as
they neared her seat and then went
"Fate's Face"
Presently a mans cultivated voice,
filled with concern, fell upon her ear.
Pardon me, l am afraid you are
ILL.,"
Sylvias hands dropped and recover
ing herself with a great effort, she
smiled through the mist of tears in
her blue eyes.
Thank you. / am quite WE'LL was
only thinking. She arose and would
have moved away, but he put out
hand to stay her.
do not let me disturb you," he
said courteously Il am going now.
Have you seen this picture by Ruff
fen-The Old Peddler?"
Sylvia nodded toward the master
piece "Oh, yes: but this one, Fate's
Face, attracted mel was wondering
the yelled countenance. you know
1T is rather tantalizing not to
know" he murmured. Il have heard
that the artist could not find a model
who embodied his ideal of Fate's other
face. and so he yelled it. Sort of
surrender to Fate, eh?" He laughed
Sylvia glanced at her catalogue for
the name of the artist. August
Everett Palmer" she read. why
she added with a delighted laugh, he
painted a Salon picture last year
Loves Cowardice."
You know his work, then" re-
marked her new acquaintance, with
A quick look from his dark, bright
eyes.
Il am not patron OF the arts,
Flushed Sylvia with her own mirth-
'ui laugh. Il love good pictures and
he Sunday newspaper supplements
ire great boon to poor art lovers"
At the moment an attendant ap-
Sylvia's companion. mr..
1ou go, Mr.. Palmer" said the man.
Very WE'LL" said Palmer turning
back to Sylvia. He surprised min
He'd look OF fright and awe ON her
ovely face.
"You--you are August Everett Pal
ner?' gasped Sylvia.
Yes" he smiled down at her.
Then. you should know Fate's |
,ther face-tell me, please, do tell
ne what was your ideal?"
Palmer's strong face grew dreamy |
yed and distracted. He was looking
t the yelled face of the picture as II |
e would paint in its features with
lowing words.
my ideal? 1t was the opposite Of
hat tragic face. How often do We /
elieve that Fate is turning q harsh,
orbidding countenance toward US
hen. after all. she turns her other
ace and we discover it to be the
ace of love and happiness-realized
tears and laughter
nd hope - always hope shining
trough the Gears. That was my