Miss Bretherton

AUTHOHOF "ROBERT ELSSIERE." CHAPTER I. I, T WAS the day of the private view at the Royal academy. The great c o u r t yard oC Burlington house was full of carriages, and a continuous stream of guests wás pressing up the red carpetcd stairs over whioh pres ided some of tho most iniosing individuals known to tho eyes of Londoners, second only to her raajesty's beef eaters in glory of scarletapparel. Inside, however, as it was not yet luncheon time, the rooms were 'out moderately filled. It was possible to see the pictures, to appreciate tho spring dresses, and to single out a friend even across the long gallery. The usual people were there; academicians oL the old school and academicians of the new; R. A.'s coming f rom Kensington and the "regions of culture," and R. A.'s coming from more northerly and provincial neighborhoods where art lives a little desolately and barely, in want of the graces and adornings with which "culture" professes to provide her. Thero were politicians still capable - as it was only tho first weekof May - of throwing somo zest into their amusements. Thero were art critics who, aecustomed as they were by profession to take their art iu large and rapid draughts, had yet been unable to content tbemselves with the one meager day allowed by the academy for the examination of some 800 works, and were now eliing out their notes of the day before !} a supplementary jottings taken in the intervals of conversation with their lady friends. Thero wero the great dealers, betrayiug iu look and gait their profouud, yet modest, conciousness that upon theni) rested the foundations of tho artistic order, and that if, iu a superficial conception of things, the star of an academician differs from that of tho man who buys lus pictures inglory, tho truly philosophical inind assesses matten differently. And, most important of all, tbere wee tbo women, old and young, some ia the full fresüness of spring cottons, as if the east wind outsido were not mocking tho efforts of tbo May sun, and others still wrapped i:i furs, which showed a juster senso of the caprices of tho English climate. Among them oue migut distinguish tho usual shades and species; the familiar country cousin, gathering material for tho overawing of such of her neighbors as wero unable to dip themselves every year in the stream of London; the women folk of the artist world, pi'esenting greater varioties of type than the women of any other class can boast ; and lastly, a sprinkling of tho women of what callu itself "London society," as well dressed, as well mannered, and as well provided with acquaintanco as is tho custom of their kind. In one of tho further rooms, moro scantily peopled as yet than the rest, a tall, thin man was strolling listlessly from picture to picture, making cvery now and then hasty references to his catalogue, but in general oyeing all üe saw wi,th the look of ono in whom familiarity with the sight beforo him had bred weariness, if not contempt. He was a handsomo man, with a broad brow and a pleasant gentleness of expression. The eyes wero fine and thoughtful, and thero was a combination of intellectual force with great delicacy of line in the contour of the head and face which was particularly attraetive, especially to women of tho moro eulüvated and irapressionable sort. His thin, grayish hair was rather long - not of that pronounced length which inovitably challenges the decisión of tho bystander as to whether the wearer be fooi or poet, bdt still long enough to fall a little carelessly round the head and so take off from the spruce, conventional effect of tho owner's irreproaehablo dress and general London air. Mr. Eustace Kendal - to give the persoiw we have been describing his name - was not apparently iu a good temper with his surroundings. He was standing with a dissatisfied expression beforo a Venetian sceno drawu by a brilliant member of a group of English artists Eettled on foreign soil and trained in foreign methods. "Not so good as last year," ho was remarking to himself. "Vulgar drawing, vulgar composition, hr.sty work everywhere. It is success spoils all these men - success and tho amount of money thero is going. Tho man who pamted this didn't get any pleasure out of it. But it's tho same all round. It is money and lusury and the struggle to livo which aro driving us all on and killing tho artist's natural joy in his work. And presently, os that odd little Frenehman said to me last year, we shall have dropped irretrievably into the 'lowest depth of mediocrity. ' " "Kendal!" said an eager voice close to his ear, while a hand was laid on his ai-m, "do y ou know that girl?" Kendal turned in ostonishment and saw a short oldish man, in whom ho recognized a famous artist, standing by, his keen, mobile face wearing an expression of strong interest and inquiry. "What girl?" he asked, with a smile, shaking his questioner by the hand. "That girl in black, standing by Orchardson's picture. Why, you must know her by sight! It's Miss Brethertron, tho actress. Did you ever seo such beautj'? I must get somebody to introduce mo to her. There's nothing worth looking at since she came in. But, by ill luck, nobody here seems to know her." Eustace Kendal, to whom the warm artist temperament oL his friend was well knows. turned with some amusement towards the picture named, and notioed that fiutter in the room which shows that something or some one of interest is present. People try to look nnconeerned. ind, catalogue in hand, were edging towaids tho spot vrhere the lady in black stood, glaneiug altemately at her and at the pictures, in the manner of those equally determined to satisfy their curiosity and tbeir scnse of politeness. Th lady in question, meanwhilo, conscious that sne was being looked at, but not apparently disturbed by it, was talking to another lady, tho only person with her, a tall, gaunt woman,,also dressed in black and gifted abundantly with the forbidding aspect which beauty requires in its duenna. Kendal could seo nothing more at flrstthan a tall, slender figure, a beautiful hcad, with a delicate white profile, in flashing contrast with its black surroundings, and with lines of golden brown hair. But in proflle and figure there was an extraordinary distinction and gi-ace which roconciled him to his friend's eagerness and made him wish forthe beauty's riext movement. Presently she turned and caught the gaze of the two men full upon her. Her eyes dropped a little, but there was nothing ill bred or excessive in her self consciousness. She took her companion's arm with a quiet movement and ilrew her towards one of the striking pictures of the year, somo little way off. The two men also turned and walked away. "I never saw such beauty as that before," said the artist, with emphasis. "I mustfind somo one who knows her, and get the chance of seeing that face ligat up, else I shall go home- one may as well. These daubs are not worth the trouble of considering now!" "Seo wbat it is to be an 'ideal painter,' " said Kendal, laughing. "At home one paints river goddesses, and tree nymphs, and such like remóte creatures, and abroad one falls a victim to the first well dressed, healthy looking girl- chaperon, bonnet and all." "Show me another like her," said his friend, warmly. "I teil you they're not to be met with like that every day. Jo me connais en beauté, my dear fellow, and I never saw such perfection, both of line and color, as that. It is extraordinary; it excites one as an artist. Look, is that Wallaeo now going up to her?" Kendal turned and saw a short fair man, with a dry, keen, American face, walk up to the beauty and speak to her. She greeted him cordially, with a beaming smile and bright, cmphatie movements of the head, and tho threo strolled on. "Yes, that is Edward Wallaee- very much in it, apparently. That is the way Americana have, They always know everybody it's desirablo to know. But now's your chanco, Forbes. Stroll carelessly past them, catch Wallaee's eyo, and tho thing is done." Mr. Forbes had already dropped Kendal's arm, and was sauntering across the room towards tho chatting trio. Kendal watched the scène trom a distance with somo amusement; saw his friend brnsh carelessly past tho American, look back, smile, stop and hold out his hand; evidently a whisper passed between tbern, for the next moment Mr. Forbes was making a low bow to tho beauty, and immediately afterwards Kendal saw his fine gray head and stoopiug shoulders disappear iuto the next room, side by sido with Miss Bretherton's erect and graceful figure. Kendal betook himself once moro to the pictures, and, presently finding somo acquaintauces, mado a rapid tour of the rooms with them, parting with them at the entranco that ho might himself go back and look at two or three things in the sculpturo room which ho had been told wero important aud promising. There he carne across tho American, Edward Wallace, who at onco took him by the arm with tho manner of an old friend ana a little burst of laughter. "So you saw tho introduction? What a man is Forbes? Ho is as youug still as ho was at IS. I envy him. He took Miss Bretherton right round, talked to her all his favored hobbies, looked at her in a way which would havo been awkward if it had been nnybody else but such a gentlemanly inauiac as Forbes, aud has almost made her promiso to sit to him. Miss Bretherton was a littlo bewildered, I think. Sho is so new to London that sho doesu't know who's who yet il) the least. I had to take her asido and explain to her Forbes' humors; then sho fired up - there is a naive hero worship about her just now that she is fresh from a eolony - and made herself as pleasant to him as a girl could be. I prophesy Forbes will think of nothing elso Lor the season." '■Well, she's a brilliant creature," said Kendal. "It's extraordinary how shü shono out besido the pretty English girls about her. It is an intoxicating possession for a woman, such beauty as that; it's like royalty; it places tho individual under conditions quito unliko thoso of common mortals. I supposo it's that rather than any real ability as an actress that has made her a success. I noticed the papers said as much - some more politely than others." "Oh, she's uot much of an actress; she has no training, no finesse. But you'll see, sho'U bo the great suecess of tho season. She has wonderful graco on tho stage, and a fino voice in spite of tricks. Aud then her Wesen is so attractivo; sho is such a frank, unspoiled, good hearted creature. Her audienco falls in love with her, and that soes a long way. But I wish sho had a trifle more i catión and something worth calling a training. Her manager, Robinson, talks of her attempting all tho great parts, but it's absurd. Sho talks very naiveiy and prettily about 'her art,' but really she knows no moro about it than a baby, and it is perhaps part of her charm that she is so unconscious of her ignorance." "It is strange how little critical English audiences are," said Kendal. "I believe we are the simplest peoplo in the world. All that we ask is that our feelings should be touched a little, but whether by the art or the artist doesn't matter. She has not been long playing in London, has she?" "Ouly a few weeks. It's only about two months since she landed from Jamaica. Sho bas a curious history if you care to hear it. I don't thiuk I'veseen you at all since I made friends with her?" "No," said Kendal; "I was beginning to suspect that something absorbing had got hold of you. I'vo looked for you two or three times at the club and could not find you." "Oh, it's not Miss Bretherton that has taken up my time. She's so busy that j body can seo much of her. But I have taken i her and her people out two or three times, sight seeing, since they came- Vv'estminster abbey, the National gallery, and so forth. She is very keen about everything, and the Worralls - her unele and aunt- stick to her pretty closely." "Where does she come from?" "Welï, her father was tho Scotch overseer of a sugar plantation not far from Kingston, aud he married an Italiau, one of your fair Venetian type- a stranga race combination ; I suppose it's tóe secret of the brilliancy and out-of-the-wayriess of the girl's beauty. Her f mother died when she was small, and the child grew up alone. Her father, however, seems to havo been a good soit of man, and to have looked after her. Presently she drew tho attention of an únele, a shopkeeper in Kingston, and a shrewd, hard, money making fellow, who saw thero was something to be made out of her. She had already shown a turn for reciting, and had performed at various places - in the schoolfoom belonging to the estáte, aud so on. The father didn't encourage her fancy for it, naturally, being Scotch and Presbyterian. lítirever, he died of fever, and then the child of sixteen feil iuto her uncle's charge. He seems to have seen at once exactly what line to take. To put it cynically, I imagino ho argued something like this: 'Beauty extraordinary - character everything that could bo desired- talent not rnuch. So tbat the things to stake on are tlio beauty and the character, and let tho talent tako caro oí itself.' Anyhow, hegot her on to the Kingston theatro- a poor little place enough- and he and the aunt, that sour lookiug creaturo you Law with her, looked after her like dragons. Naturally, she was soon Jtho talk of Kingston - what with her looks and her grace, and the difflculty of coming near her, the whole European society, tho garrison, goverument house and all were at her feot. Then the uncle played bis cards for an European engagement. You remember that Governor Rutherford they had a little time ago?- the writer of that little set of dravring room plays- 'Nineteenth Century Interludes,' I think he called them? It was his last year, and he started for home while Isabel Bretherton was acting at Kingston. He eame homo full of her, and, knowing all the theatrical people here, ho was abla to place her at onco. Robinson decided to speculate in her, telegraphed out for her, and here she is, uncle, aunt and invalid sister into the bargain." "Oh, she has a sister?" "Yes; a little, white, crippled thing, peevish- cripples generally are- but full of a curious force of somo bidden kind. Isabel is very good to her, and rather afraid of her. It seems to me that she is afraid of all her belongings. I believe they put upon her, and she has as much capacity as anybody I ever knew for letting herself be trampled upon." "What, that splendid, vivacious creature?" said Kendal incredulously. "I think I'd back her for holding her own." "Ah, well, you see," said the American, with the quiet superiority of a three weeks' acquaintance, "I know something of her by now, and she's not quite what you might think her at first sight. Howover, whether sho is afraid of them or not, it's to be hoped they will take care of her. Naturally she has a splendid physique, but t seems to me that London tries her. The piece they have chosen for her is a heavy one, and then of courso society is down upah her, and ia a few weeks she'll be the rage." "I haven't seen her at all," said Kendal, beginning, perhaps, to be a little bored with the subject o .:' Miss Bretherton, and turning, eyo glass ia hand, toward tho sculptum "Como and tako me somo evening." "By all means. But you must como and meet the girl herself at my sister's next Friday. Sho will be thero at af ternoon tea. I told Agnes I should ask auybody I liked. I warned her - you know her little weaknesses! -that sho had better bo ilrst in the field; a month heneo it will bo impossible to get hold of Miss Bretherton at all." "Then 111 certainly come and do my worshiping beforo tho erov.-d collects," said Keudal, adding, as he half euriously shifted his eyo glass so as to take in Wallace's bronzed, alert countenance. "How did you happen to know her?" "Rutherford introduced me. He's an old friend of mine." "WaH," said Kendal, movingoff, "Priday, then, I shall be very glad to see Mrs. Stuart; it's ages sinco I saw her last." Tho American nodded cordially to liim, and walleed away. He was ono of thoso pleasant ubiquitous peoplo who know every one and flnd timo for everythiñg- a weil known journalist, something of an artist, and still moro of a man of tho world, who went through his London season with soma outvrard grumbUng, but with a real inward zest such as few popular umers out are blessed with. That ho should have attacj-e 1 himself to tho latest star was natural enonY He was tho most discreejt and profitabla of cicerones, with a real talent for making himself usef ui to riico people. His friendship for Miss Bretherton ga vu her a certain stamp iu Kendal's eyes, for VVallaco had a fastidious taste iu personalitias and soldom mado a mistake. Kendal himself walked homo, busy with very different thoughts, and was soou established at his writing tablo in his high ohambers overlooking an inner court of tho Temple. It was a bright af ternoon ; the spring sunshino on tho red roofs opposito was clear and gay ; tho old chimney stacks, towering into the palo blue sky threw sharp shadows on tho rich red and orange surface of the tiles. Below, the court was half in shadow, and utterly quiet and deserted. To the left there was a gleam of green, atoning for its spring thinness and scantiness by a vivid energy of color, whilo straight across the court, beyond tho rich patchwork of tho roofs aud tho picturesquo outline of tho chimneys, a delicate piece of white stone work roso into air - the spiro of one of Wren's churches, as dainty, as perfect, and as fastidiously balanced as the hand of man could leave it. Ir.side, the room was such as fitted a studious bachelor of means. Tho bookcapes on the walls held old college classics and law books underneath, and abovo a miscellaneous literary library, of which the maiu bulk was i French, while the side wings, so to speak, ' had that tempting miscellaneous air- here a patch of Germán, thero an island of Italian; on this side rows of English poets, on the other an abundanco of novéis of all languages- which delightxthe fond heart of tho [ book lover. The pictures were mostly autotypes and photographs from subjects of Italian art, except in one corner, whero a fine little collection of French historical engravings completely covered the wall and drsw a visitor's attention by the brilliancy of their black and white. On the writing table were piles of paper covered French books, representing for the most part the palmy days of the Romantics, though every here and there were intervening strata of naturalism, balanced in their turn by recurrent volumes of Sainte-Beuve. The wbolo had a studious air. Tho books were evidently collected with a purpose, and the piles of orderly MSS. lying on the writing table seemed to sum up and explain their surroundings. Tho only personal ornament of the room was a group of photographs on the mantelpiece. Two were faded and brotvn, and represented Kendal's parents, both of whom had been dead somo years. Tho other was a largo cabinet photograph of a woman no lougfr very young - a striking looking woman, with a fine worn face and a general air of distinetion and character. Thero was a strong rosemblanco between her features and those of Eustaco Kendal, and she was indeed his eider and only sister, the wifo of a French senator, and her brother's chief friend and counselor Mme. do Chateauvieux was a very noticeable person, aud her influence over Eustaco had been strong ever since their childish days. She was a woman who would have justifled a repetition in the present day of Sismondi's enthusiastic estímate of the women of tho First Empire. She had that melange du meilleur ton, "with the purest elegauce of manner, and a store of varied informatiou, with vivacity of impression and delicacy of feeling, which," as he declared to Mme. d'Albany, "belongs ouly to your sex, and is found in its perfection only in tho best society of France." In tho days when she and Eustaco had been the only chüdren of a distinguished and wealthy father, a politician of somo fame and sou-in-law to tho Tóry premier of his young days, she had always led and enoed her brother. T' followed her admiringly tbrongfa her Loiuloa seasons, watching the impres.-iii:i sbe ittado, Iriumphing ia her triumphs, and at bome Uiscussing every new book h ml liiartng, at least in nis college vaoations, tarv's work for their father, which he üd escellently, and with a qulck, keen, politloal sense nhich Eustaeo had oever seen la any other vvoman. Sho was bandsome i'i hor own refinetl and delicate wa at niglit, when the sparkleof ber wbite necU and arms and the added brightnesa of her dress gave her the accent and color slu; was somevrhat lacking in at other times. Naturally, she was in no want of suitors, for she was rich and her father was influentiul, but sho said "No" many times and was nearly 30 beforo M. de Chateauvieux, the first secretary of the French embassy, persuaded her to marry him. Sinca then she had filled an efïective place in Parisiau society. Her husband had abandoned diplomacy for politics, in which nis general tendencies were Orleanist, while in literature he was well known as a constant eontributor to Tho Revue des Deux Mondes. lío and his wife maintained an interesting, and in its way inSuential salon, which provided a meeting ground for the best English and French society, and showed off at onco the delicate quality of Mme. do Chateauvieux's intelligenee and the f orce and kiudliness of her womauly tact. [ TO BE CONTINÜED.l