Will Warburton

ng, a heavily clouded sky and sobbing wind told that rain was not far off; nevertheless, wishing to think hard, which he cou

n, he sought out Mr. Potts, whose gratitude and its quaint expression had pleased him. The acquaintance continued; whenever Warburton passed the shop he stepped in and made purchases-generally of things he did not in the least want. Potts had all the characteristics which were wont to interest Will, and touch his sympathies; he was poor, weak of body, humble-spirited, and of an honest, simple mind. Nothing more natural and cordial than Will's bearing

y yards, a man whom he took for Norbert Franks. The artist was coming toward him, but suddenly he turned round about, and walked rapidly away, disappearing in a moment down a side street. Franks it certainly was; impossible to mistake his figure, his gait; and Warburton fe

inner pipe, he thought again of that queer little incident in Grosvenor Road, and resolved of a sudden to go and see Franks. It still rained, so he took advantage of a p

told me last night that he'd be working all day, and I was to get meals for him as usual. And at ten o'clock the model came-th

on was

he said. "Will you please ligh

s provisional name for this picture; he had not yet hit upon that more decorous title which might suit the Academy catalogue. A glance discovered the subject. In a typical London slum, between small and vile houses, which lowered upon the narrow way, stood a tall, graceful, prettily-clad young woman, obviously a visitant from other spheres; her one hand carried a book, and the other was held by a ragged, cripple child, w

rburton surveying the picture. "He can't find a model good-looking enough. I say to Mr. Franks why

ood with finger extended. Warburton, glancing where he was accustomed to see the portrait of Rosamund Elvan, also felt a shock. For, instead

he deuce has h

dy. "It must be himself that's done i

longer doubted that Franks had pu

portrait had begun to vex him. He's often spoken of it discon

rambled Ralph Pomfret and his wife; at his side was Rosamund Elvan, who listened with a flattering air of interest to all he said, but herself spoke seldom, and seemed, for the most part, preoccupied with some

waited another ten minutes, then left the room, called

a dozen yards, when he sto

e! I waited as l

" said the artist, t

. His look avoided Warburton's

wrong,

n the studio, I d

hing that su

" asked Norbert, in a

that?" said Will wi

ost deserted street. The necessity of clutching at his hat might have exp

care to talk about it," s

I'd rather not have met you to-night, that's the truth. But I can't let you go wi

What do yo

aying she couldn't marry me, and that all mus

a possibility had ne

just where the wind roare

t I'm making a fool of myself. That's why I shot out of your way this

go in. I can't leave you in this state of mind. Of course I begin to see what you mean, and a wilder idea

o, and I b

n make all allowances. Think over what I've said, and come and have another talk.

ll. Good

bserving this, Warburton said to himself that not improbably the artist had been trying to drown his misery, which might account for h