Boy Artist. Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  THE RESOLVE.

  That same evening, when it was too dark for Raymond to paint, he andMadge sat by the fire talking.

  "It's not much good trying any more; is it, Raymond?"

  "Trying what?"

  "Why, your painting, to be sure."

  "Nonsense, Madge, I must paint; it's my life to paint."

  Madge gave a long deep sigh, too long and deep for a child of her age.

  "Raymond, what's _my_ life?"

  "Woman's life is to glory in man," said Raymond grandly.

  "Oh!" said Madge, with an unbelieving laugh, "there's more than that init; there's a great deal of work, too, I can assure you."

  "I daresay," Raymond answered carelessly; "but, Madge, you must nevertalk of my giving up painting, because I should die if I did."

  "Should you? O Raymond, don't."

  "No, I won't until I have done something great--something to make youproud of me--something which shall make my name to be remembered;" andthe boy's eyes flashed now, but it was too dark for any one to see it.

  Madge liked to hear him say these kind of things, though she was not anartist herself, only a patient, loving little girl, who thought therewas no one in the world like Raymond, and she put out her hand and laidit softly upon his, as if she would lay her claim to that by which hisfame was to come.

  They sat in silence for some time--Raymond looking into the fire, andthinking of his future; Madge looking at him, and wondering if sheshould ever see him as famous as she felt sure he ought to be.

  The door was opened suddenly, and their father came in. Even withstreaks of gray in his hair, and deep lines upon his face, Mr. Leicesterwas handsome; and he had a gay, dashing air, that heightened the charmof his appearance. He carelessly kissed Madge, and laid his hand onRaymond's shoulder, then sat down by the fire.

  "It's cold to-night, children."

  "Yes, father; shall I get tea?"

  "Not to-night, sweet Madge. I must be off soon; I have an engagement. Ionly looked in to see how you were getting on."

  "Very well," said Raymond gruffly.

  "Oh! that's right; I'm glad to hear it."

  There was a long pause, then Mr. Leicester said abruptly, "Raymond, lad,I've found some work for you at last."

  Raymond started. He had long ago found work for himself, and did notwant any other.

  "Stephens and Johnson will shortly have a vacancy, and then you can goto them as soon as you like."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why, that they want a shop-boy."

  Raymond stood up proudly. "I'm a gentleman, father."

  "Come, come, never mind that. We know all that; but I don't wantheroics. You must either work or starve."

  "I'm working."

  "Pooh, pooh! A little desultory dabbling in painting; let me tell you,Master Raymond, that is not my idea of work."

  "But, father, I must paint; I could not live if I did not."

  "Nonsense; that is all the ridiculous ideas that you get up here. Whenyou are shaken out in the world you will lose them."

  Raymond's hands were raised to his face, and he was shivering withexcitement. Madge came to her father's side, and put one hand on hisshoulder.

  "Father, Raymond is a painter. If you were to send him to a shop, hewould be a painter still. You cannot crush out what is bound up in hisheart. Is it not better for him to rise to fame by painting? Some day hewill be your glory and mine."

  Mr. Leicester shook her hand off.

  "You don't know what you are talking about. Little girls should holdtheir tongues, and learn to be silent."

  Madge shrank back immediately, and her father went on fiercely. "I'lltell you what it is, children; I'm off to-night to the Continent, andthat's all the cash I can leave you," and he produced three sovereigns."I can't find bread enough for all of us. Raymond _must_ work. I shallbe gone for a month. The place will not be ready for him before that.When I return he must go immediately."

  Madge breathed more freely--there was a month's reprieve, and shestretched out her hand to Raymond. He clutched it, and held it in avice-like grasp.

  "Father," he said at last, and his voice was low and hoarse, "I want toask you something."

  "Well?"

  "You are not coming back for a month. If during that time I can sell oneof my pictures, and can hand you over a reasonable sum of money, may Igo on painting?"

  His father thought for a moment, then laughed. "Yes, safe enough.Perhaps you'll know what it is to be hungry before the month's out, andwill be glad enough to leave off your dabbling."

  Then he stood up--patted Madge's head--went to the door, and came backagain as if seized with a new impulse--shook hands with Raymond, andkissed his little daughter's forehead. "Good-bye, children; take care ofyourselves," and he went away. Then Madge came to Raymond's side, and helaid his head upon her shoulder with a low piteous cry.

  "Hush, darling, hush," she whispered. "It will all come right, don'tfear. Let us trust God; he has given you this talent for painting, andhe will teach you how to use it. There's a whole month, and who knowswhat may happen in that time! You may become famous." She went onearnestly; but he took no notice--only pressed his hands tighter andcloser over his throbbing forehead.

  "Raymond, I know you will be an artist--a great one--some day,"whispered Madge.

  "Never, never, if I am to be ground down in a shop," he groaned.

  THE LITTLE COMFORTER.]

  "You will, you will," she answered, throwing her arm round his neck. "Ifyou keep up a brave, strong heart, and are not discouraged. Nobody cando anything if they lose heart."

  "But to be always, always working, and to have no success. O Madge, itis so hard and bitter!"

  "No success! Why, Raymond, if you'd only heard how the errand-boyspraised the way you had done the workman's basket of tools in the_Welcome_. It was a success in itself."

  In spite of himself Raymond laughed, and Madge was satisfied. She wenton brightly. "Some day I shall be so proud to be the sister of Mr.Raymond Leicester, the great painter, whose picture will be one of thegems in the Royal Academy some year or other; and we shall glory inyou."

  "Not he--never; he would _never_ care."

  "Oh, he would--he would; and if he didn't, you would be mine--all mine,"she added softly, as she laid her hand on his arm.

  Raymond looked up suddenly. "Madge, you are a witch, I think. I wonderwhat those men do who have no sisters--poor fellows;" and then he kissedher.

  There was a glad light in Madge's eyes then. He so seldom did this,except for good-night and good-morning, that she knew what it meant. Shewas very silent for a few minutes, then sprang up, exclaiming, "Now wemust have tea, and then you have your etching to do, and I am going topay up the rent, and then I'll read to you, and do my sums."