The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1920-12-24
n. THE PORTRAIT

DCSluC thC iOiy q iOhS plCi Sass,
stood heavy studio easel holding a
full-length canvas, an unfinished pOr-
trait of herself in the Zingara dress
she had once worn at costume dance.
Begun long ago, on day when mod
ell failed her, and carried out incon-
mood" the painting now neared COM
pletiOn; little more work on drap-
cries and background and 1t would be
ready for exhibition. Inspecting it
critically, with fault-finding eyes, she
saw that her work was good, almost
as good as her fathers. The figure on
the canvas lived; it's striking pose was
instinct with almost insolent vitality ;
the face was aglow with zest in life,
the eyes seemed transiently arrested
in an instant of gay impudence alto
gether charming.
the mirrors faithful presentment of a
slender, mOdishly gowned young
wording, the finished product Of a
fashionable upbringing, little proud,
reserved, thoughtful, exquisite .
Priscilla Maine.
But the girl on the canvas was Leo
nora. And in her self both lived. But
which was which? Which false, which
true? Was the life she knew, the life
of Park avenue and Fifth, of teas, din
ners, theaters, dances-relieved only by
these days in the studio, her happiest,
Oh 20
reality or illusion? And that dream
life of which she caught only fugitive
glimpses. fascinating, tantalizing, ter
rible, and related to nothing within
the scope of her eXperience-was the
dream life perhaps the life of fact?
She shook head baff1ed, bewildered
and faint with wondering.
The doorbell interrupted. She an
swered finding as she had expected
hat the chauffeur was waiting to es-
ort her to the town car which he was
obliged to leave at the mouth of the
alley. She was glad of his company,
/ when she had put out the lights and
/ locked the studio door, for the alley
was indifferently illuminated and
seemed rather grimly desolate at that
hour. She knew a moment of sym.
pathy with Aunt Esther's distrustful
animosity toward "that dreadful stu
dio life."
| If Aunt Esther only guessed how IN
finitely more dreadful that other life
which Priscilla knew In dreams
But no one guessed. Instructive reti
cence, jealousy of her privacy, reluc
lance to be thought different, and feal
of having her sanity questioned as she
herself too often questioned it, had
guarded the girls secret and kept II
inviolate.
She had long since made up hel
mind she must never marry while this
dream life continued to exert it's oc
cult influence upon her. To risk trans
hitting to her children a mental tain1
or lesion was unthinkable.
Now Of q sudden she remembered
the man Mario Cor was he merely 8
shadow?) and in a poignant turn Of
Renaissance recalled his luminous ant
compelling eyes, the potent magnetism
of his presence, and felt anew the pres
sure of his lips on hers.
On hers? Or Leonora's?
She cringed low In the corner of thu
seat, as if fearful lest curious eyes de
tect the waves of color that burned hel
cheeks. For in the memory of that kis.
she. found a sweetness ineffably pre-
cious. And in the knowledge that hi.
love was dedicated to that other Self
Priscilla suffered the first bitter pang.
of that torment which spares not body
mind or soul, and which is jealousy.
But how should she be Jealous O.
Leonora, if Leonora were herself?
Was 1t to be her fate to love on,
shane of dream and hate another?