OUR SATURDAY STORY.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIV, Issue 303, 20 December 1913, Page 16

OUR SATURDAY STORY.

THE ART OF KEZIAH

By LADY GILBERT

It was Student's day at tbe Nations! Gallery, and easels were clustered round the favourite pictures of amateur copyists.

Two -of those who formed a croup In front of the popular portrait of Mrs. Siddons were a young man and a girl stil! younger, the man rather shabby in the matter of dress, the girl even shabbier. The young woman had artfully set up her easel so as to enable her to see over the top of her own canvas the progress of the man's picture, with a cunning intention, of secretly taking lessons as lo his method.

Fearlug that her own performance was going to be a mere daub, while his was exceedingly clever, and being well aware that she was tolling after him In vain she often remained idle, merely observing her neighbour's progress with admiration and

An Impartial judge might have agreed with her as to the merits of her own production. A friend might have suggested that she had been better occupied in making herself useful to mother, brothers, or sisters, if she were possessed of such.

She was well acquainted with her neighbour's straight slender back aud his rather stiff carriage of the head, and as he was always at his post in the gallery before her arrival, and a's she invariably took her seat behind him, his back remained for a long time the only part of him familiar to her observation.

At last, however, on this particular day, curiosity suddenly got the better of her prudence, and she left her perch and went and stood right in front of him.

"Cnn you lend mc a bit of burnt sienna?" she asked. "I have lost mine, and I shall be so obliged to you."

"Certainly, I am not using this," he said.

She looked at him with wide-open, notetaking eyes, and he looked at her. They were both rather well worth looking at. She wore an untrimmed burnt-straw hat, which was becoming to her fresh wholesome colouring. Her cheeks suggested carnations rather than ro=es, her eyes clear water rather than sapphires or violets. The young man summed her up as material for a picture on tho Instant. What she saw was a brown thin face with strong brows and a look of determination which seemed to promise ultimate success for his work rather than increase of flesh for his bones. The nest day the girl was at his elbow again, not staring at him this time, but speaking In a persuasive voice. "Would you come and look at my daub?" she said. "I have got It in such a hopeless mess!" He dropped his brush and went and stood before her easel. "It is rather messy," he said smiling. "Please don't laugh. Could you set It a little bit right for mc?" With a few rapid touches he put poor much misrepresented Mrs Siddons into better shape. "Oh. thank you! That will do. You must not lose your time over It." "It isn't lost. Your idea of colour Is good. But you want to study form." "I am quite untaught." "Hadn't yon better begin to learn?" After this they became friends. They opened their luncheon bags at the same hour, and ate their bread and butter together, talking art, and knowing nothing whatever of each other's circumstances. He knew her as a shabbily dressed girl, evidently poor, and not at all clever, but with eyes of adorally sympathetic sweetness, and a voice that suggested tbe sooth- | ing of all dally worries and troubles. She i knew him as a shabbily-dressed young man, I evidently poor, but enormously clever, and with something pathetic about him In spite of his power, something that would appeal to any feminine creature who had any latent motherliness within her. Her picture was certainly Improving, owling to the frequent touches of a neighbour's brush. Something else was also improving even more rapidly than the picture. I A girl soon becomes aware that a man Is in love with her. and this particular , maiden knew It before they knew each 'other's names, which were mentioned ot '■ last as Richard Hannen and Martha i Brown. Tbey had not felt in need of | any names, it was simply "you" and ! -you" and tho v stiffness of addressing by name would only have been an encumbrance to conversation. | Week after week went past with the students' days that brought them together, and tbe walls of the gallery seemed to bound all possible conditions of their intimacy. This was as it should be, for Mrs. Siddons, or any one else looking on would have decided that whatever happiness might be found in falling In love there could be no future of marriage between two such out-at-elbows youthful aspirants for fame, and that they must both know it.

As It was, the two happy-go-lucky creatures held on their apparently thoughtless way with no outward sign of disturbance such as might have altered the current of their Intercourse.

One day, however, when the girl took her seat at her easel her friend did not turn his head to look at her, and she saw that he was absorbed in reading a letter which, even by the expression of the back of the head and shoulders she understood was anything but'a pleasant one.

"What can it be?" she thought as she sat biting the end of her paint-brush handle.

"Somebody Is dunning him for money. Is It rent, tailor, or food, I wonder. It must be a very old bill if it comes from his tailor— "

! After some time he shook himself np, ' folded the letter, rose and went to put It j in his bag on the floor, beside which she had placed her own as usual. Seeing her looking at him he dropped It iv and came ! to speak to her. She thought he looked i miwontedly dispirited, nud when the little i glow which the sight of her always brought i ( to his face had faded she was struck by i his pallor, and hy the look of stern sadness I that had settled into the shadow round j hit- eyes. I "I am afraid you are not well," she I said impulsively. I The next moment she felt that perhaps she ought not to have let him see that she had surprised his trouble or anxiety, | whatever it might be. "No: I am not well at heart, because I I love you, and I have no more right to ! tell you so than if I were a crossingsweeper." 1 The girl looked glad for a moment, and ! then she said gravely. ! "If two crossing-sweepers cared for each ' other, what do you think they ought to I do about It?" ; "Go on sweeping their crossings," he said gloomily. ; "What? Their separate crossings?" ; "Yes." i "But two sweeping one crossing—, might they not make a good thing of it?" He shook his head. ;.:ul returned to his easel, and she saw nothing bat his back for the rest of the day. At luncheon time he went en working, and did not descend from his perch to look for his crust. The girl hesitated aa «he stood swallowing hers, half inclined to

carry his bread to him, and entreat him to eat it. But she was afraid of the tears that had threatened her eyes all morning. She must not worry or persecute him. A little before the iisinvl time she picked up her bag and quitted the gallery. He had not turned his head to see her going.

On leaving the gallery she did not set out to wfflk. nor yet did she climb into an omnibus, but established herself and her hag In a hansom cab and was driven westward.

After a pretty long drive she was set down at a handsome house near Kensing-

ton Gardens. In her washed out cotton frock and shabby shoes one would have expected her to ring the area bell, instead of which she took a latch key from her pocket, opened the door, and went In. "Has Mrs. Wynch had tea?" she asked. "Very well. She is resting? Good. Send

She mounted the stairs to a charming suite of rooms overlooking the Gardens, threw off her frock, slipped Into a teagown and drank her tea looking out over the trees with eyes that saw nothing, but tlie sad denial in anpther pair of eyes, or tie back of a proud head turned obstinately away from her. ■She roused herself out of a day-dream and went to her dressing-room to look for something In the shabby little bag that was her companion in those visits to Trafalgar Square which had become so frequent, and saw on the very top of the familiar contents of the bag a letter which she did not recognise aa belonging to her. Picking It up, she read the superscription. "Richard Hannen, Esquire, Magenta Terrace, S.E." It was evidently never intended to get Into her bag. and was the property of her friend of the gallery. Mechanically she unfolded the paper and read, "Virginia Bowers, near Manchester. "Dear Nephew," "It is nut for mc. It were dishonourable to read it," she thought. "How did it get then- —7' She sat down with it in her hand and reflected, remembering how she had seen him, as she thought, place the letter which had evidently troubled him In his bag, which stood on the floor beside her own. "Perhaps he put It In mine to let mc see it," she said to herself, and acting on this rather strained supposition, she read the letter. "If I find that he put it in by mistake I can confess when restoring it to him," she thought, banishing the alternative of letting him think he had lost it in the street. "Dear Nephew," said the letter, "I am surprised at the audacity of your request that I should lend you money to pursue your art studies In o~der that you may develop a genius to surprise the world, and make a fortune that will enable you to repay mc. I had, as you know, intended io make Ann my heir, on condition of your going Into my counting house, learning my business, becoming In time my partner, and striving to follow in my footsteps. You refused lii'-t generous offer, which would have niaiie a man of you, and elected to remain an idle dabbler in your 'Art,' expecting mc to provide an income for the support of your thriftlessness. "I now tell you, once for all, that I will do no such thing. I wash my hands of you for ever, unless yooi write to mc immediately, confessing your folly, and declaring yourself willing to come to my terms. "Your affectionate uncle, but no fool, "James Hedstronge Hannen." "So that Is all," said the young lady to ' herself. "What was I afraid of, I wonder? A previous engagement made without affection for some unaccountable reason? I couldn't nave asked him to break his word to another woman. This is only the conventional wicked uncle. But what ought I to do? How proceed, always remembering that proud straight back, and the stiff carriage of that head of bis?"

She fastened up the letter In Its envelope, and sent It to the post. 'He will think dt has been found in the street," she thought, "and I will take my own time about confessing."

Then she rang for her maid to dress her for the evening, and was put Into a frock of white silken stuff with fine embroidery wrought in gold, and descended to the sit-ting-room where an old lady sat awaiting her, attired in style of elderly grandeur, spreading skirts of brocade, cap with long lace lappets, mosaicpicture brooch, framed, and ear-rings to match.

"I hope yon had a nice comfortable day, dear Mrs Wynch," said the girl.

"Yes, Kezlah darling, thanks to you. Sat In the Gardens. Read my novel. Slept two hours. Had my tea. Read again. Dressed for dinner as you see, and here I am! You are not going to this fatiguing dance after your hard day's study at your painting?" "Must go. Promised the Dormers. How these American millionaires gather English friends around them"' "And this little American millionaire?" "Oh, my line is different. But I like to I please everybody when I can. Besides I love dancing, especially when I have been sitting cramped up all the day." She gave her arm to the old lady and conducted her with great ceremony to the dining-room. Later on she went to her ball In a carriage and pair, and having j danced to her heart's content and turned ; several masculine heads with her beauty | and her wit and her good humour, she i returned as she went, and fell asleep smll- | Ing at something that was lying at the 'very bottom of all her thinking. ' Next morning she wrote a letter to her ! friend. Miss Canada English in Quebec. j "Dearest Connie, "Your dear letter was as usual most welcome. Since my last to you I have I had six more proposals. It is great fun, ias I know there Is no hurt to hearts In : the matter. My wealth is exaggerated more I and more. They are saying now that *I j have bought up all the best -.lalms In British Columbia. I "Since writing I have also discovered I some facts about my acquaintance of the i gallery. It is a case of a cruel uncle and j a martyr to Art. 1 believe he is a genius, I but at all events he is a good man, straight I and honourable, and he loves mc In a ; shabby frock and shoes Bkuffed at the Itoes! We are to each other In his eyes |as two crossing-sweepers who do not pick up enough coppers to enable them to marry. But I have a plan. "Dear old Mrs Wynch sends her love. She is an ideal chaperon for mc, sleeps I half her time, and lets mc do what I like. | Sihe is always thanking mc with tears In | her eyes for lifting her out of poverty. ; And she is really happy and comfortable." j Students' day came round again, and ! Kezl.ih dressed for her work. I "O Miss!" cried her maid, "why do yon I keep wearing such horrid old] rubbishy I rags }" "Artists always wear such things when they are painting pictures," said the young I lady with dignity. | As she took her seat at her easel that j day Richard Hannen did not turn his head. | though she made a little noise to let Mm know she was there. After waiting some time she went and stood beside him. I "Your picture is finished?" she said. "Yes." "What will you do with it?" "Send it to the man who takes mv stuff to sell for mc, I suppose." "Please give mc his address. He might perhaps take something of mine." He wrote a name and address on a leaf of his pocket-book, and gave It to her. "I warn yon that he gets very Urtle money for mc."

"Not many coppers for crossing* sweepers," said Martha Brown.

"Not many," said Richard, without turning his head to look at her.

"Can't we as well be friends?" she said. "Even crossing-sweepers have friends, I suppose. 'Why can't you smile at mc?"

"Go away and don't tempt mc," he said. "Ton are very surly," said she, and went back to her perch before her easel.

A few days later, Keziah dressed bewitchingly In the most approved fashionplate style of the moment was driven In her carriage to the address of the picturebroker given her by Richard Hannen. The dealer -was one wiho bought on commission the studies more or less and the crude efforts, more or less bad. of beginners, or of poor toilers In art as cheap as he could. ana sold them as dear as he could to persona who knew nothing of art, and had littla money, but who wanted something ornamental on the walls of their cheap homes. He was much impressed by his pretty visitor. So rich a lady ought to know, better than to come to a place like his to buy pictures, but as she had come he wai pleased, and showed her his stores ot studies of cats, and dogs, and children, in oils, and of flowers and landscapes la water colour, putting on all he dared la the way of price, as he sounded the-depth of his customer's purse and of her Ignorance.

She paid a handsome sum for Hannen'* picture, and carried it off with her, saying:

"When you have any more work by till artist I should like to see it. Ask him to paint mc something original."

Keziah did not go to the Gallery on tig next students' day, but after the Interval of a week she made her appearance there again. She had hardly got her easel set up before Richard Hannen came and stood beside her.

"I was afraid you were never coming (here any more," he said. There was a glow in his eyes and a slight tremor la his voice, but Martha Brown did not appear to notice either.

"I should not have thought you would have known whether I was here or not," she said, "seeing that we have not got eyes In the beck of our heal."

"I bave something to tell you. I have had a piece of good fortune. I have got a purchaser and a patron. My Mrs Sifldonj has sold for a fabulous price."

"T-he dear old tragedy queen! To cast •her spells even now. and in your favour. I am glad. I congratulate you!"

"And I have further orders. My patron wants something original. Oh, my dear I see a little light!" "I have always known it would come. You hare genius, and you are on the way to success." "I cannot go further till yon promise t*»t when success arrives you will share tt with mc, as my wive." "When success arrives? Am I not to be allowed to sweep your crossing with yoa?" "I will never allow you to starve for mc. But 1 shall very soon get bread ami butter enough for two." "You are a very Imprudent young man," said Martha Brown. "But I accept your terms.. And now, go back to jour crosfIng, and let mc get on with the sweeping of mine. I don't want to starve either with yon or without you. Besides, we needn't have all the talent of the gallery at tMs moment concentrated on guessing what we can be talking about." Hannen set to work to paint an original picture, for which he had made many studies, but meanwhile he kept bis students' days at the gallery, mainly because only there could he meet Martha 'Brown, who steadily refused to see hmx. anywhere else. The picture was finished and exhibited, and attracted a good deal of notice. A brilliant future was predicted from high quarters' for the unknown artist.

About this time Kezlah wrote again te her correspondent In Quebec.

"I have now made up my mind that I must bring our engagement in Its present stage to a conclusion. Next week I will write a letter something to the effect that Miss Kezlah Freke presents her compliments to Mr Richard Hannen, and wishel •to know if he Is willing and at leisure to paint her portrait. Terms to be such as he may name. I will then ask him to call at Palace Gate House to. talk the matter over. It will be fun, won't it, when he tells mc In the gallery that he has been invited to paint the portrait of a wealthy lady who admires his work, and rates it at any price he chooses to put on It?"

Some days later the friends were eatlns their bread together in the gallery e» usual. Martha Brown's frock and hat were really looking suitable enough for a crossing-sweeper, and her toes were threatening to come through her shoes. "I wonder you are not ashamed of mc?" she said, "but I am saving up to get some new wearables." "I like you better as you are than la anything you could put on," he said. , "That Is all very fine," she 6ald, "bnt you will be falling in love with your new friend while you are painting her portrait." "Xo, I shan't. Not even If she is, as 1 suspect, some benevolent old lady who U having It done for her grandchildren." "We shall see," said -Martha Brown. The next letter to Miss Canada English told of the thorough success of Kezlah » peculiar mode of putting an end to her engagement. "It was simply delightful," wrote Kezlah. "He was Invited to dinner, and Mrs Wynch received him when he arrived. He never • doubted that the guess he had made about his sitter had been correct, for here she was, a typical mid-Victorian subject. I allowed them to talk for a quarter of an hour before I appeared, and yon may suppose I was pretty nervous as I opened the door to presenlf»myself. "After all, what would he think of ml tricks? Money will not buy respect. *Bot he will believe that I meant no wrong," I reflected. Would be recognise mc a» Martha Brown? I had on my white slli with the silvery embroidery, my cbeeki were flushed, my heart was flying. Bnt la 1 walked, and held out my hand and said, " 'How do you do, Mr Richard Hannen?' "The room whirled round mc a few times while I saw blm stand,. palA staring at mc silently, and forgetting to take "my hand. " 'Miss Freke?' he said at last. " 'Kezlah Freke.' "He said nothing, and then I presented Mm to Mrs Wynch as a great artist who was going to paint our portraits, mine and hers. "I can't remember all the old lady sail about the unsultability of her own style of beauty for a picture. Neither do I remember all we said. Richard and I before we parted that evening. He Is very prond, bat 1 have persuaded him that a woman who has plenty of money to help Mm oa his way may be as good a person to roan? as a crossing-sweeper. And what do yoa - think of his wanting to paint mc in the washed-out cotton frock and skuffed shoe* (which my toes have nearly come through) that 1 used to wear as Martha Brown la the gallery! "We are to be married immediately, and I expect you to fulfil the promise yoa made to mc long ago that some day yo° would come across the Atlantic to be pr* sent at the weddiag of your whimsical bat - true-of-heart "Eezlali." |