Neith Boyce

“ It may have been due to the interest and charm which Kenyon was able to infuse into his share of the correspondence that the two met again not as acquaintances, but as friends at least. For he wrote with his soul in his finger-tips, alive and alert to seek out that other soul to which all his hope addressed itself. Almost from the very first meeting of all, he had acknowledged to himself—this philosophic dreamer of forty—that henceforth life held something for him beyond philosophy, or dreams, or love as he had known it, or, perhaps, art even, the master and crucible of all. ”

“ Kenyon, so glad to see you! You are just in time to drive with us. No, do sit down again; there is no hurry—and don't let me interrupt you. You were talking about a pet enthusiasm of mine, weren't you, Constance, love? I mean Karl Savary. Mr. Kenyon, I had an immense admiration for that man—his voice, his beauty, his genius! ”

“ Whether from gallantry or curiosity or apparent necessity, Kenyon yielded. He shrugged his shoulders with a look of bored vexation, called to the model, "Rest, Mamie," and, when the shimmer of her green robes had disappeared in the little corridor which separated his living-rooms from the studio, he unbolted and opened the outer door.
A short woman, dressed richly in mourning, rustled past him, bending her head slightly in answer to his somewhat ironical bow. Kenyon silently set a chair for her and she seated herself, putting aside the heavy crape veil from her face. ”

“ She got up, dropping the violets from her lap, and crossed the room to the fireplace, where a small bed of coals smoldered dimly under a veil of gray ashes.
"And now we must really be going," said Mrs. Ferriss, briskly, rising and drawing her velvet wrap about her shoulders.
"I'm afraid I've kept you——" began Kenyon.
"Indeed you haven't. We are in plenty of time for our drive—a good long one, too, that ought to bring a little color to this girl's pale cheeks."
Kenyon held the portière aside for her, and she called over her shoulder, "Come, Constance!" ”

“ The little nook, with its tempered light and soft blending of dull pinks and greens, had the air of a hothouse, and the slender girl on the divan among the gold cushions was like a lily grown under glass."
"But you are going out!" exclaimed Kenyon, disappointedly, releasing her long gloved fingers.
"Yes—to drive and afterwards to a tea or two," said Constance, smiling. "Aunt Jem insists on my driving an hour every day—to bring back my color, she says. ”

“ The lingering on the threshold had its charm, to Kenyon even.
Meantime his position in the house was perfectly assured, if not defined exactly. Mrs. Ferriss, the aunt with whom Constance lived, approved of him, both from the worldly and the personal point of view. Indeed, she had been known privately to declare that were it not for Mr. Ferriss she would have married him herself.
"You shall drive with us this afternoon, if you like," said Constance, graciously, fastening the violets into the belt of her gown. "And you may as well go to the Caswell's tea, too. ”

“ It's going to be the best thing I've done. The color of that girl in her green gown—it's great!"
"Yes, I daresay. You painters all rave over red-haired girls. But what else shall you send?"
"Oh, a landscape or two—just to show those fellows that I can paint landscape—and the portrait of Savary." ”

“ He went on to describe his visitor of the morning, ending with:
"She appears now as a German baroness, but I am quite certain that I recollect her eight or ten years ago as a distinguished ornament of the burlesque stage. She was a Cuban, and a beautiful creature, too. No doubt her title and rank are genuine enough, for I indistinctly remember that she retired from the public eye at the zenith of her fame, and married an admirer who was said to be both rich and noble. Ease and prosperity haven't altogether agreed with her, though. She has lost her beauty." ”

“ As though I ever had color!"
"Then I won't repine," said Kenyon, taking a chair near her and dropping his violets in her lap. "For you certainly look paler than I like. Aren't you dissipating, too much?"
"Dissipating—in Lent?"
"You know you're scarcely strong yet. If you don't look out you'll be packed off for another ocean voyage."
Constance laughed and turned the question. ”

“ Ferriss, but a packet of notes, and asking me to have the picture, when finished, put into an ebony frame, fitted with doors that could be locked. I sent an answer, promising to do so.
"Well, that is about all. I finished the picture. On the appointed day another messenger came and carried it away. And that was the end of it." ”