THE ARTIST'S RECREATION.
Whether Frederic Vernon read in Major Ashton's face the disgust he felt
at the compliment Grace bestowed upon him in singling him out as her
companion, I am not sure. It is clear, however, that the young artist
cared little for it. He was enjoying the companionship of the only
young lady who had ever had power to stir his heart, and for the moment
did not allow himself to think of the distance between them.
Grace, on her part, was not insensible to the fact that Vernon, though
poor, was as noble in appearance as any of her guests. The young artist
had been remarkably extravagant in providing himself with a dress-suit
of fine quality, and no one would argue his poverty from his appearance.
"I hope, Mr. Vernon," said the heiress, "that you have plenty of
orders."
"Enough, at all events, to fill up my time," answered Vernon, "thanks,
I am very sure, to your friendly recommendation."
"I feel entirely justified in recommending you," said Grace.
"It is friendly, nevertheless."
"I shall not dispute that, for I wish to be friendly."
"I am sincerely grateful for all your kindness, Miss Dearborn," said
the artist, earnestly. "It has done me more good than perhaps you dream
of."
"I am sincerely glad to hear it, Mr. Vernon."
"Before painting your portrait I will confess that I was tempted at
times to despair. I had been for a long time struggling hard, and
apparently with little hopes of success. My sitters were unwilling to
pay me even the paltry price I asked."
"I believe the young lady we have just passed was one of your sitters?"
said Grace, referring to Miss Framley, who had bestowed her attentions
upon a callow youth of eighteen, failing to secure a more eligible
partner.
"Miss Framley? Yes; but I have small cause to desire such a patronage.
She stared at me as I entered, as if surprised to meet me here."
"I trust it did not pain you much," said Grace, archly.
Vernon laughed.
"I hope I shall have no worse troubles," he said. "To that I am
resigned."
"Then I shall be quite at ease about you on that score. And now, Mr.
Vernon, I fear I must ask you to hand me to a seat, as my other guests
will be claiming my attention."
"Thank you for favoring me so far, Miss Dearborn," said Vernon, as he
complied with the young lady's request.
The young artist caught sight of one of his late sitters, and
presenting himself, was graciously received, so that he was not
compelled to be a wall-flower.
"It would be like his impudence," thought Miss Framley, "for the
penniless artist to make up to me. If he does, I will soon send him
about his business."
Miss Framley did not have the opportunity, however, to give Vernon the
rebuff she had in view, as he took no notice of her save by a slight
bow. This annoyed her, and she straightway charged him mentally with
ingratitude in slighting one of his patrons. Consistency was not one of
Miss Framley's strong points. Had she seen him leaning against the wall
unnoticed, she would have been pleased; but Vernon, who was gifted with
unusual external attractions, seemed to have no difficulty in making
his way, and was kindly received by young ladies whom Miss Framley
was compelled to acknowledge as her social superiors. She looked on
discontentedly from a corner where she was temporarily pining from
neglect, when Major Ashton approached. He was far from admiring Miss
Framley, but he knew that her father was reputed rich, and he thought
it best to keep in with her as a possible resort in the event of his
other plans failing.
"Are you in a reverie, Miss Framley?" he asked.
"Not precisely, Major Ashton," responded the young lady, smiling with
pleasure at being noticed by so desirable an acquaintance; "I was
resting for a moment. Really fashionable life is so exhausting--parties
and engagements nearly every night in the week. However, you know all
about that."
"I am not so easily fatigued, perhaps, as if I belonged to the fairer
sex. Will you accept my arm for a promenade, or are you too much
fatigued?"
"Oh, I am quite rested, I assure you," said the young lady, joyfully.
"I see the portrait painter is here," remarked Major Ashton, with a
carelessness he did not feel.
"Yes; isn't it strange Miss Dearborn should invite him?" returned Miss
Framley, eagerly. "Really almost a beggar, as you may say."
"Is he poor, then?" asked the major.
"He was miserably poor, but I believe he is doing better now. Why, he
used to paint portraits for twenty dollars!"
"Hardly enough to pay for the materials," said Ashton, shrugging his
shoulders.
"Oh, he was glad enough to get orders at that price. I took pity on
him myself, and gave him an order."
"Very considerate of you, upon my word!" said Major Ashton.
If there was sarcasm in his words, Miss Framley, who was not over
sharp, except in money matters, did not perceive it.
"I always try to be considerate," she responded, complacently. "But, as
you were saying, it is very singular Miss Dearborn should pay so much
attention to a man in his sphere of life."
"I think it was you who said it, Miss Framley; however, I am disposed
to agree with you."
"And then she selects him as her first escort, and lowers herself, as
one may say, to his level."
"Perhaps she feels a special interest in him," suggested Major Ashton.
There was a suspicion of jealousy in his tone as he said this.
"Oh, dear, no! That would be too ridiculous. She may feel a patronizing
interest in him, and think it will do him good in the way of business
to pay him attention. Grace is so quixotic, you know, Major Ashton."
Grace would have been amazed had she heard herself spoken of so
familiarly by a young lady to whom she had hardly spoken a dozen words
in her life.
"I suppose you are quite intimate with her?" said Miss Framley's
escort, pointedly.
"Why, no; I can't say we are intimate," said Miss Framley, slowly;
"although, of course, I know her very well."
"I infer from what you say that I shall not be likely to meet the
portrait painter at your house, Miss Framley."
"Decidedly not!" said the young lady, tossing her head. "I hope I
choose my company better. I am sure I don't know what ma would say if I
should introduce such a person into the house--ma is _very_ particular."
"And very properly, I am sure."
Major Ashton politely refrained from laughing, though he happened to
know that Mrs. Framley, who was now so very particular, had been a very
respectable saleswoman in a small dry-goods store up to the time of her
marriage with Jeremiah Framley, who was at that time a drummer in the
employ of a second-class house in the city.
"Miss Framley is very amusing," thought the major, "though I fancy she
would be a great bore to a matrimonial partner. I hope it may never be
my sad destiny to marry her; though, as her father is rich, I may some
day sacrifice myself to her."
How we deceive ourselves! Miss Framley was under the impression that
the stylish major, of whose attentions she was proud, was struck with
her, and she was already speculating as to the prominent place she
might take in society as Mrs. Major Ashton, when a waltz struck up.
"Shall we dance, or are you too fatigued?" asked the major.
"Oh, not at all! It has quite passed off, I assure you," said the
delighted young lady, and they moved off to the inspiring strains of
one of Strauss' waltzes.
Miss Framley didn't appear to advantage as a dancer. Her figure was
dumpy, and she had no ear for music, so that her pace was somewhat
heavy and elephantine. The major was a graceful dancer, but it was all
he could do to make up for his partner's deficiencies. He soon tired of
the attempt, and handed his unwilling partner to a seat.
"I was not at all tired, major," she said, insinuatingly.
"But I was," he answered, rather abruptly.
He took leave with a bow, and five minutes later found the opportunity
which he had been seeking all the evening to speak to Miss Dearborn.