Two Studios

by Frances Mary Peard

lad,who was early and late in his studio, and worked with a purpose andintensity which he had never known before. Me used at intervals to rushinto Everitt's studio to ask his advice and assistance. Smitten withcompunction one morning when the artist had spent a good deal of timeover a question of colour, he expressed himself to that effect.

  "My dear fellow," said Everitt, "don't disturb yourself. I don't knowthat I am of much good to you, but I'm very sure I'm of less to myself.If it wasn't for you, I suspect I should drop it all for a month ortwo."

  "Oh, you've been overworking yourself; that will pass," said Jack,sagely.

  Everitt walked over to his own canvas and stood regarding it with hishands thrust into his pockets. It was a forge, where two horsemen,escaping from pursuit, had pulled up to get a thrown shoe replaced; onehad dismounted; the other, turned sideways on his horse, was anxiouslylooking back along the road by which they had ridden; a girl pressedforward to see the riders.

  "There's my morning's work," said Everitt, pointing to her figure; "andit's wood--no life, no go in it."

  "Well, you know I don't think much of that model."

  "The model's good enough," said the other man impatiently. "She neverstood better. The fault lies somewhere else. I wish it didn't."

  Jack glanced at him with an honest expression of dismay.

  "Oh, I say, Everitt," he exclaimed, "it's absurd to talk like that.Everybody's got their slack times. To-morrow you'll paint better thanever you did in your life. You've run down--that's all."

  "I've half a mind to go away," Everitt said.

  "Well," Jack replied, heroically, "perhaps that would set you up. Whereshall we go?"

  "We?"

  "You didn't suppose you were going to get rid of me?"

  "If I go, I go by myself," Everitt answered, with decision. "You've gotinto the swing of work at last; stick to it, my boy, and you'll dosomething good. As to where I shall go, I'm not in the mood for anyplace in particular. Toss up, if you choose, and settle for me."

  Jack made a further endeavour to persuade him to let him be hiscompanion, but the elder man was quite resolute in his determination tobe alone. He did not care where he went, and no place offered anyparticular attraction; he had only a restless desire to shake off aninfluence which seemed to be in some strange way paralysing his work.The fact that it was so paralysing it no doubt alarmed him; he had notbeen prepared for such a result, and all his instincts revolted againstit. He argued that an infatuation springing from so slight a foundationshould be under reasonable control. He would not have parted from itfor worlds, but was it to be suffered to wreck his life? He triedanother day with his model; at the end of it he painted out her figureand turned his canvas with its face to the wall. When Jack came in, hefound Hill at work under Everitt's directions.

  "I'm off," the latter said, briefly.

  "Where?"

  "To the other side of the channel. Perhaps by that time my ideas willhave taken shape. At present they only consist of hazy notions of thecoast of Brittany--unoriginal, but that's what I suffer from being justat present."

  When Mrs Marchmont heard of this move, she was greatly disconcerted.

  "I did _not_ expect," she remarked, severely, "that you would have leftthe field in this fashion."

  "I don't find myself in the field at all, that's the truth," Everittsaid, with a laugh.

  "Well, you might have been there," she said. "Pray, do you expect me tokeep off other people?"

  "I expect nothing," he replied. "Seeing what a mess I have made of thething myself, it would be unjust to suppose that others are to set itright."

  "Where are you going?" she demanded, suddenly. "At any rate, keep meinformed of your movements, so that if there should be anything towrite--"

  "Would you be so kind!" he said, eagerly. "But, of course, therecan't."

  Still he told her what there was to tell, and gave her a list of placeswhere he would apply for letters. With these in her mind, MrsMarchmont went off the next day to the Lascelles', at a time when sheknew that Kitty was out. She saw Mrs Lascelles.

  "How is Kitty?" she inquired. "It strikes me that she is looking paleand thin."

  "She is not very well," the mother admitted. "The weather has been hotlately. I'm not sure that so much painting is good for her, and, totell you the truth, I think Kitty has worried over this foolish affair.I wish she would forget it."

  "So do I," said Mrs Marchmont, candidly.

  "What shall we do to her?"

  "She has plenty of sense," said Mrs Lascelles, "and if no more is saidabout it, and she finds there is no danger of meeting Mr Everitt, Ihope she will cease to think about it all."

  "Poor man!"--with a sigh.

  "Oh, come, Mary," Mrs Lascelles said, with a laugh, "I am not going tohave him pitied. He has caused us a great deal of annoyance, and ifKitty gets ill, I shan't forgive him in a hurry."

  "Why don't you take her away for a change? The inestimable Miss Potterwould look after the children, and Captain Lascelles could dine with uswhenever he pleased."

  Mrs Lascelles looked doubtful.

  "Where could we go?"

  "Oh, to the Channel Islands, or Brittany, or Normandy. Have you everdone Brittany? Kitty could draw, and would be very happy."

  "It has been a sort of dream between us," Mrs Lascelles admitted; "andto tell you the truth, my husband has to go down to Yorkshire next week.Still--for me to go away!"

  She protested a little in fact, but when Mrs Marchmont left her she waswell on the way to yielding. Her visitor departed in high spirits, andher next point was to see Bell.

  "Bell," she said, confidentially, "I've something to tell you. MrEveritt is going abroad."

  "I know," remarked Bell, calmly. "I heard that yesterday."

  Now, this somewhat astonished Mary Marchmont. She began to think thatBell's means of information were remarkably efficient, and to wonderwhat they were. Meanwhile she begged her to say nothing about it to theLascelles'.

  "Mrs Lascelles talks of taking Kitty to Brittany, and if by any happychance they were to meet, everything might come right. But, you know,if a hint reached them--"

  "I know," repeated Bell. "Well, but you will not set him on theirtrack?"

  "He would not go if I did. I shall not tell him that they are evenleaving England. Everything must be quite accidental andunpremeditated. Indeed, Bell, I have done nothing beyond suggestingthat Kitty wanted change of air, and that Brittany was a nice nearplace."

  "Oh!" said the girl, with a laugh. However, in spite of her mockery shewas very ready to promise, and when Jack arrived later in the day, hewas admitted into the new conspiracy, which he was to aid by keepingEveritt to the starting-point.

  It was not difficult. Everitt had too little inclination for any placebut London to be disposed to resist even the gentlest pushes in a givendirection. Once, indeed, he gave Jack a shock by declaring positivelythat he was going to Russia, where it was very certain there would be noKitty for him to meet. The bare idea necessitated Jack's seeking advicefrom Miss Aitcheson, but by the time he came back, armed with invinciblesuggestions, Everitt had forgotten his fancy, and announced that heshould go to Havre that night.

  Jack went to the station with him, and had the satisfaction of seeinghim take his ticket, and of extracting all the certainty he could fromthat fact. It was not absolute, because Everitt announced that, once onthe other side, chance or the fancy of the moment were likely enough todirect his steps, but, setting this aside, his plan, so far as he hadone, was to go leisurely through some of the old Normandy towns, and towork along the coast to the neighbouring province. As for work, hemeant, to see on what terms with it he found himself. If the springcame back, well and good. If not, he would not force himself, but turnto anything which presented itself. He was fully aware of theunreasonableness of his present mood; it seemed nothing short ofludicrous that the experiences of a day or two--and such experiences--should be sufficient to change his life. Bu
t the very unreasonablenessprevented argument from producing its effect. He had seen Kitty, and heloved her--that was the long and short of it, which nothing could alter.

  Mrs Marchmont, meanwhile, had been triumphantly successful with theLascelles. Kitty, it is true, had not taken to the idea so keenly asher mother anticipated, but this, if it proved anything, proved that shewas not quite herself, and when she saw that her mother was disappointedat her want of enthusiasm, she promptly set to work to present anoutward