Boy Artist. Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  THE FEVER.

  And Raymond did work. Madge watched him with hopeful pride, and seldomstirred from his side. Their small store of money was nearly gone, andthere seemed but little likelihood of a fresh supply.

  Raymond's hopes were bound up in the picture he was then engaged upon.If only he could finish that, he felt sure that he could sell it. Therewas a feverish light in his eyes, a burning flush upon his cheeks, whilehe worked. He spoke seldom; but Madge saw him raise his hand sometimesto his forehead as if in pain. The picture was nearly done, and Raymondlooked up for a minute one morning, and saw that the sun was shiningbrightly down on the sea of roofs and chimney-pots which for the mostpart constituted the view from their garret window, and then he said toMadge, "Go out, and get a breath of fresh air; it is stifling work foryou to be always up here."

  "Shan't you want me to mix your colours, Raymond?"

  "No; go. I should rather you went."

  She put on her bonnet, and then stood for one moment looking at hiswork. "I wish you would come with me; it would do you good, and restyou."

  Raymond gave a wearying sigh. "No rest for me yet, Madge. I must toil onuntil this is done. I can't rest when I go to bed. I am thinking allnight when will the morning come, that I may be at work again. No, no;there is no rest until this is sold. Do you know that in a day or two weshall be penniless and starving?"

  Madge looked up at him with a smile. "No, Raymond, we shan't be left tostarve; don't fear."

  Raymond looked doubtful, and went on with his work, and Madge went out.

  She felt very lonely and sad as she wandered through the crowded, busystreets, and gazed into the faces of the passers-by, all were socompletely wrapped up in their own concerns. None knew her history; nonewould care to know it. What did it matter to any one of that movingthrong if she and Raymond died?

  Almost unconsciously she bent her steps in the direction of thecolour-shop. One hurried glance she cast at the window, and then turnedaway with a sickening heart.

  Raymond's picture was still there.

  She went home, and ascended the long flight of stairs with a slow,hesitating step. For a moment she paused at the door of their own room;she heard a groan within, and hastily went in. Her first glance wasdirected to the easel in the window; but Raymond was not there. Anotherlook discovered him lying on the floor with his head pressed against theground.

  "Raymond, Raymond!" she cried as she threw herself down by him. "DearRaymond, what is the matter?"

  THE COLOUR-SHOP WINDOW.]

  "O Madge, my head, my head! I could not bear it any longer."

  He raised it for a moment, and Madge caught a sight of his feveredcheeks and heavy tired eyes. She thought for an instant what was best tobe done, then ran down-stairs to call their landlady. Now, Mrs. Smileywas in the midst of her cooking operations, and as she bent over herlarge saucepan, she did not like being interrupted by the suddenappearance of one of her top lodgers.

  "What do you want? Don't you see I'm busy?" she said roughly, as sheturned a very red face round from the fire to Madge.

  But Madge, in her terror for Raymond, gained courage. "If you please,ma'am, do come and see Raymond; he is so ill, and I don't know what todo."

  "And who's to take this saucepan off, I should like to know, or bastethe meat? Do you think I'm to be at the beck and call of top-flightlodgers, who only pay five shillings a-week, and that not regular. I cantell you then that you're in the wrong box, young woman, so you'd bestbe off."

  AN UNGRACIOUS LANDLADY.]

  Madge turned to go, but still stood irresolute, and Mrs. Smiley, lookinground to enforce her injunction, caught a sight of her wistful,terrified face. The little girl went away as directed; but as soon asshe was gone, Mrs. Smiley opened the door of the back-kitchen, andcalled out, "Here, you Polly, come up here, and keep an eye on thisdinner. Now keep basting the meat properly; for if it's burnt, I'llbaste you when I come back;" and then she followed Madge up-stairs. Shefound her kneeling beside Raymond, supporting his head upon hershoulder.

  "Well, Mr. Raymond, so you don't find yourself very well!"

  A groan was her only answer, and Madge looked imploringly at her.

  "You'd best go to bed, sir, I'm thinking.--Miss Madge, my dear, you'rein for a bit of nursing. I'm afeard it's a fever that's on him."

  Mrs. Smiley's character was changed. She had children of her own, andthere were soft spots in her heart still, though the outer coat, formedby her worldly business, was hard and rough. She had known what sicknesswas, and she was rather a skilful nurse, so from that time whateverspare minutes she had were devoted to Raymond.

  Poor little Madge! The days that followed were very sad ones. Herbrother grew worse and worse, and she sat by his bedside listening tohis wild ravings of delirium, in vain endeavouring to soothe him, or toallay his burning thirst.

  Their scanty supply of money was exhausted; and many little comfortswhich Raymond needed, his sister was unable to procure for him. "I mustdo something; this cannot go on," she thought; and then an idea flashedinto her mind, which she longed to carry out. She went over to theeasel, and took down Raymond's picture. It was very nearly finished. "Iwill go and see if Mr. Jeffery will buy it," she said; and covering itunder her little cloak, she set out.

  Very timidly she presented herself at the counter, and produced herpicture. Mr. Jeffery looked at it. "This is not finished," he remarked.

  "No, sir; Raymond was too ill to finish it."

  "I cannot take it in this state," said the picture-dealer. "It willnever sell."

  NO HOPE.]

  "Then you can do nothing for us?" asked Madge sadly.

  "Nothing. Stay, though;" and he began turning over the leaves of hismemorandum-book. "Yes, you are the child. Well, Mr. Smith--Mr. HerbertSmith--the great artist, wants to see you. Here, take this direction andgive it to him when you find his house;" and Mr. Jeffery hastily wrote afew lines upon a piece of paper, and handed it to Madge.

  Mr. Herbert Smith, the great artist. Yes! she had heard Raymond speak ofhis pictures--she would go; there was a gleam of hope before her; shewould take Raymond's picture to him; he could not fail to discover howclever it was--Raymond could only be appreciated by master minds, andthis was one of them. It was a dull wet day, and the streets looked darkand dingy; the rain was driving in her face, and her heart was withRaymond in the garret, where he was tossing in restless fever; but thebrave little maiden went on steadily, until she reached Mr. HerbertSmith's door.

  She rang at the bell, and asked to see the artist. The servant, wellaccustomed to receiving every variety in the way of visitors to hismaster, models, &c., &c., ushered her up a long stair into the studio.

  Why, there sat the gentleman who had once looked so kindly at her in thepicture-shop; she had often wondered who he could be.

  "A little girl to see you, sir," said the servant, and then withdrew.Mr. Smith was reading his newspaper, seated in an easy-chair, arrayed indressing-gown and slippers, with a cigar in his mouth, and a cup offragrant coffee by his side.

  He turned round impatiently, but when he saw Madge, his expressionchanged to one of easy good-humour.

  "Mr. Jeffery--please, sir, he told me to come to you," said littleMadge, while she looked down on the ground.

  "Oh, yes, I remember; and so you have come to give me a sitting?"

  "A what, sir?"

  "A sitting, my child; to let me paint your eyes and hair."

  "Please sir, I came to show you this; Raymond's ill;" and she held outthe cherished picture.

  THE GREAT ARTIST.]

  "Ah, yes; lay it down. I'll look at it presently; but, meanwhile, I mustlose no time in transferring you to canvas. Now, then, take your place,so; your head a little more turned to the light." And in a few minutes,with easy, rapid strokes, the artist was progressing in his work.

  "And what is your name, my little girl?" he asked presently.

  "Madge Leicester," she replied softly.

&
nbsp; "Your eyes have grown sadder than they were when I last saw you, Madge!"They were very sad then, for large tears were gathering in them, androlling down the thin white cheeks.

  She raised her hand and dashed them away.

  "What is it all about?" said Mr. Smith.

  "O Raymond, Raymond!" she faltered.

  "Is Raymond your brother?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you a father and mother?"

  "My mother is dead, and my father is away, and Raymond is ill."

  "Poor child, where do you live?"

  Madge told him.

  "And does no one care for you?"

  "Oh yes, Raymond does."

  "But I mean, does no one do anything for you?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Smiley is minding him while I'm out!"

  "How did you come to leave him to-day?"

  A quick flush came to Madge's cheek; she was ashamed to confess theirpoverty; but after a moment she added, "I wanted to sell Raymond'spicture."

  "Does Raymond like painting?"

  Madge's face lit up with a sudden brightness. "Yes, yes! he loves it--hedelights in it--he says it is his life."

  "Poor boy, he does not know what up-hill work it is; he thinks it ismere fancy play, I suppose?"

  "I don't think he does, sir."

  "Has he ever had teaching?"

  "Only a few lessons from an artist who had the down-stair rooms in thelast house where we lodged."

  Mr. Smith came over suddenly, and unfastened Madge's hair; it fell ingolden ripples all over her neck. The light was shining upon it, and thesunbeams danced about it, making it in some places to resemble--

  "In gloss and hue, the chestnut, when the shell Divides threefold to show the fruit within;"

  and in others there were luxuriant masses of rich deep brown, clusteringin curls about her shoulders. For a moment the artist stood lost inadmiration; then he silently resumed his work. It was an enjoyment tohim, as Madge could see from the pleasant smile that played around hislips, and the kindly look in his eyes, when he glanced at her; but thepoor, little, anxious sister was only longing for the time to be over,that she might return to Raymond's side; and when at last Mr. Smith laiddown his brushes and pallette, saying, "I will not keep you longerto-day," she sprang to her feet joyfully.

  "Will you come again soon, Madge?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir, if I can!"

  "Well, this is for your first sitting;" and he held her outhalf-a-crown. For a moment she hesitated, then she thought of Raymond,and the nourishment he so much needed, and she took it. "And about thepicture, sir?" she asked wistfully.

  "Oh, yes, about the picture," said Mr. Smith, taking it up; but at thismoment he was interrupted; the servant announced a visitor, and he hadonly time to add, "I will tell you about the picture the next time youcome, little Madge; good-bye;" and then she had to go away.

  Back through the dreary streets, to that dreary home; back to thatgarret room, to that lonely watching, to that brother who lay so nearthe borders of the grave, though Madge knew it not. How often we pass inthe crowded thoroughfare some sad suffering hearts, hurrying back toscenes such as these; it may be that they touch us in the crowd, and yetwe know nothing of the burden which they carry; God help them! Let usthank him if we have light hearts ourselves; and let us remember thateach load that we lighten leaves one less sad face and heavy heart inthe world about us.