The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-03-20

one was in it. I knew that Annie and
her grandmother had gone home, and
thought hoped-that some poor soul
had crept in to shelter from the rain by
the kitchen fire. Well, there was not
soul near the place. | locked up care
fully that night when went back to the
inn, and in the solace of glass Of grog
and a pipe before went to bed almost
persuaded myself there was nothing in it.
..In the morning had really forgotten
it, fancy; but when got back to the
studio curious thing had happened.
Right across the face in my picture was
a couple of brush marks, such as you
might make if you were trying the tooth
of canvas, completely spelling my work
of the day before. I called up Annie
and her grandmother, and accused them
of playing tricks. They were indignant
at the idea, and finally had to apologize
for my suspicious. We searched the
house together, but could find no means
by which any one could have entered,
and at last was obliged to conclude that
l must have done the damage myself
when 1 let my brushes fall. In a few
days, however, it became impossible to
explain the thing by this or any other
natural means; constantly my canvases
were tempered with, and grew to have
the feeling that after twilight I was
never alone in the room; that faint sigh
which had so startled me at first came
to listen for and expect, and began at
last to clothe it with a personality, and
to wish had some means Of comforting
the poor soul who had no other language
to express her despair. did not think
it was she who had defaced my canvases,
however, and I took to carrying my work
back with me at night to the inn, where
the canvases were secure from inter
ference.
81 suppose the thing would have ended
there but for an accident. There was
race meeting in the town, and the ship
was invaded by a low set of fellows, who
got drunk and made beasts of themselves
generally. The place became unbearable,
and determined to camp in the studio
until they cleared out. Imade up big
fire, got my old woman to leave me some
hot water in the kettle, and with the
help of a rug and pillow stuffed into
the back of my chair l made myself
tolerably comfortable for the night.
How long slept don't know. I awoke
suddenly, not as one does in bed, with a
drowsy feeling of relief that it is too
early to get up, but with every sense on
the alert, and a curious impression that
something unusual was happening. The
fire was still bright, and made glow on
the opposite wall; but what made the
room SO light was the moon shining in
through the square window in the roof.
l could see everything in the room quite
plainly, but seemed oppressed by some
weight that made me powerless to move.
l sat there staring at what happened as
helpless as if l had been bound Ny
painting things were just as had left
them; my canvas, on which had sketch
ed in a head. on the easel, and close by,
on stool, paints, brushes and palette.
They had been there, that is to say, for
now there stood in front of the easel,
with his back to ME, a tall man, with a
stoop in his shoulders and dark gray
hair; he had my palette in his hand, and
he was painting with a sort of nervous
that it thrilled me to see.
looked to see what he was painting. for
he kept glancing over toward the patch
in the moonlight; but at first 1 could see
nothing.
"Then l heard that little, gentle sigh,
but not, it seemed to me. so utterly weary
and heartbroken as formerly; it was
sigh almost of content. And as pom
dered on this my eyes seemed to become
more accustomed to the light, and there
in the moonlight, on the very chair on
which Annie had sat, was a woman,
leaning slightly forward-voung, beau
tiful and very pale. But you have seen
the picture. Hooked at her now more
than at him, only glancing now and then
to see how the work went on. AS |
her the face changed, and the |
sorrowful, worn lock gave place to kind |
Of wondering happiness-heh has not quite |
got it in the picture; it was as if the |
feeling were so intense it made kind of |
L
long | watched. At last sound made |
me turn and look at the painter. He
had thrown down the palette and brush |
rs and was standing looking at his work. |
Then he turned slowly. and held out his !
hand with srpplicating gesture. She |
had risen, too, and come step forward, |
with a wonderful light in her eyes, and |
Just as she put her hands in his cloud |
crossed over the moon and blotted out |
the figures from my sight. When it |
passed the patch of moonlight was empty, |
and there was only the painted head and |
the palette lying on the floor TO convince |
me had been dreaming. After that ! |
must have fallen asleep, for 1t was broad |
daylight when [ next remember any |
thing, and | heard the welcome and IA |
miliar sound of my old woman prepar- |
ing my breakfast. The smell of frying |
pilchards was refreshingly mundane, |
and got up stiff and sore from my IN
easy couch, prepared to find that my
9hantoms of the night before mad been
nothing but dream. No; there was |
the picture. just As you see 1t, and on |
the floor were the palette and brushes. |
| picked them up and looked anxiously |
at them. If you'll believe me 1 could |
never make up my mind to clean the |
paint off that palette, and .: hangs there
just as that fellow left it.r
We sat silent some minutes when |
Graves had done. 1 confess the story |
impressed me good deal, and glancing /
up | could see that CUTLER was strangely
moved.
And did you never have any explana-
uon of the thing" said l at last.