York._
We reach Grand Central Depot at 7:10 o'clock tomorrow evening in our
new private car Alfonso. Family greetings; all well.
Reuben Harris.
Alfonso put the telegram in his pocket, completed packing his steamer
trunk, wrote a letter to his landlord, enclosing a check for the last
quarter's rent, and ran downstairs and over to the storage company, to
leave an order to call for two big trunks of artist's belongings, not
needed in Europe.
A hansom-cab took him to the Windsor Hotel, where he almost forgot
to pay his barber for a shave, such was his excitement. A little dry toast,
two soft boiled eggs, and a cup of coffee were quite sufficient, since his
appetite, usually very good, somehow had failed him.
It was now fifteen minutes to seven o'clock. In less than half an hour
Alfonso was to meet his father, mother, and sisters, and after a few
days in the metropolis, join them in an extended journey over the
British Isles, and possibly through portions of Europe.
Alfonso was the only son of Reuben Harris, a rich manufacturer of iron
and steel. His father, a man naturally of very firm will, had earnestly
longed that his only son might succeed him in business, and so increase
and perpetuate a fortune already colossal. It was a terrible struggle for
Harris senior to yield to his son's strong inclination to study art, but
once the father had been won over, no doubt in part by the mother's
strong love for her only boy, he assured Alfonso that he would be loyal
to him, so long as his son was loyal to his profession. This had given
the boy courage, and he had improved every opportunity while in New
York to acquaint himself with art, and his application to study had been
such that he was not only popular with his fellow artists, but they
recognized that he possessed great capacity for painstaking work.
Alfonso jumped into a coupé, having ordered a carriage to follow him
to the Grand Central Station. It was ten minutes yet before the express
was due. Nervously he puffed at his unlighted cigar, wishing he had a
match; in fact, his nerves were never more unstrung. It was a happy
surprise, and no doubt his youthful vanity was elated, that his father
should have named his new palace car "Alfonso." At least it convinced
him that his father was loyal.
As the coupé stopped, he rushed into the station, just in time to see the
famous engine No. 999 pull in. She was on time to a second, as
indicated by the great depot clock. A ponderous thing of life; the steam
and air valves closed, yet her heavy breathing told of tremendous
reserve power. What a record she had made, 436-1/2 miles in 425-3/4
minutes! Truly, man's most useful handiwork, to be surpassed only by
the practical dynamo on wheels! It was not strange that the multitude
on the platform gazed in wonder.
There at the rear of the train was the "Alfonso," and young Harris in
company with his artist friend, Leo, who by appointment had also
hastened to the station, stepped quickly back to meet the occupants of
the new car.
First to alight was Jean, valet to the Harris family. Jean was born near
Paris and could speak French, German, and several other languages.
His hands and arms were full to overflowing of valises, hat boxes,
shawls, canes, etc., that told of a full purse, but which are the very
things that make traveling a burden.
By this time Alfonso had climbed the car steps and was in his mother's
arms. Mrs. Harris was more fond, if possible, of her only son than of
her beautiful daughters. She was a handsome woman herself, loved
dress and was proud of the Harris achievements. Alfonso kissed his
sisters, Lucille and Gertrude, and shook hands warmly with his father,
who was busy giving instructions to his car conductor.
Alfonso in his joy had almost forgotten his friend Leo, but apologizing,
he introduced him, first to his mother, then to Gertrude and finally to
his sister Lucille, and their father. All seemed glad to meet their son's
friend, as he was to take passage in the same steamer for his home near
Rome.
Leo Colonna was connected with the famous Colonna family of Italy.
From childhood he had had access to the best schools and galleries of
his peninsular country. He also had studied under the best masters in
Paris and Berlin, and was especially fond of flesh coloring and portrait
painting. He had studied anatomy, and had taken a diploma as surgeon
in the best medical college in Vienna, merely that he might know the
human form. Alfonso, aware of all this, had invited Leo
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