A fortnight later he received a check for £20 from the gentleman who had been off on the boating expedition, and about the same time he got word from Sir Garnet Walton that he could paint his portrait whenever he chose. So he returned Mrs. Harvey’s contribution, with the heartfelt gratitude of the MAN HE KNEW, and crossed the channel to a period of great triumph and prosperity. He not only painted the portrait of Sir Garnet Walton, but that of his mother, and his wife, and his little daughter, and several of his friends.
He is out of the gloomy woods of poverty at last, and his feet are firmly planted on the high road which leads to fame and fortune. Furthermore he has learned to smile at his past misery and even to forgive his short-sighted but benevolently inclined uncle for not alleviating it.
“I suppose, considering the trying situation, it was not inexcusably wicked to impose, as I did, on old Mrs. Harvey’s kindness,” he remarked one day to his wife; “but all the same it was steering rather too close to a confidence game to suit my conscience altogether. I didn’t like the business at all, but there are unfortunately many things in life which border on untruthfulness of action but which one is compelled to do nevertheless. This happened to be one of them.”
—John P. Rogers.
A QUESTION.
BY DANSKE DANDRIDGE.
My Psyche, straying in a glimmering night,