The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-02-11
a PHANTOM PORTRAIT.
TAdvaucs Sheet. of the February cOrnhilll

Cnects
"DEAR NIKE: viii you look in at my shop
this evening? CUTLER is In town and is going
TO dine with me at the club. l cans stand
evening of him alone, but IL you and Teddy
OBrieu will support me, with pipes and pots-
tions, think we shall be q match for him.
Come early, and I'm your friend for life.
DICK GRAVES"
had nothing particular to do, so l sent
word around TO Dick that l should turn
up, having first made sure that Teddy
O'Brien, whose studio was in the same
block, would 60 also. CUTLER we knew of
old, as all the world knew nina man
who had seen everything, done every
thing, been everywhere-and these occa-
sional visits OF his were perpetual terror
to Graves. Why be paid them we never
knew. There was a kind of traditional
friendship between the families certainly,
but CUTLER was a man who scoffed at ira
dition. He was in every way out OF SYM
pathy with a set of ardent and impecuni-
Gus painters. As journalist, as traveller,
as man of the world, he had outlived his
enthusiasms. Life contained no new
experiences, no surprises for him. 1t was
only monotonous round of the known
and the expected.
Dick Graves, who usually shone as
host, was not at his best that evening.
He was nervous at first, aud rather silent,
leaving the burden OF talk to Teddy and
myself; and We had the ill-luck as the
punch circulated to light on a vein of
humorous stories, at which We laughed
consumedly ourselves without evoking
even a smile from the guest of the
evening.
"Will you fellows look over my Cornish
sketches?" said Graves, suddenly jump
| ing M in desperation. al think there
are some you have not seen"-and he be-
gan TO rummage about among pile OF old
| canvases
CUTLER resumed his seat and sat hall
absertly, hslf-contemptuously,w atchingus
as we turned over the paintings-possibly
hewas amused by our jargon of tone" and
| quality" and the rest. At length picked
up from tho heap painting that caught
my eve and propped it on the easel near
the lamp. 1t was quite unlike Graves
usual work, and i stood looking at it for a
moment, not quite knowing why 1 did So
1t was the head OF a young woman, pale
and slightly worn. She was leaning a lit
| tie forward, looking out of the picture, her
mouth parted by slight, tremulous smile,
and in her eyes look that was strange
mingling OF emotions, as il a new hope and
happiness had come into life of sorrow
"a look half wistful, half exultant |
turned to speak to Graves, and saw that
| CUTLER had got up and was standing gaz-
ing at the picture with look OF fascina-
| ton or of fear. Here at last was something
| that interested him.
Where did you get that" he asked alb
ruptly.
what do you think OF it," said Graves
! slowly.
Its a good head" said Teddy O'Brien
Its a wonderful model" said |.
"a face to haunt one" said CUTLER,
in tone quite unlike his ordinary cyni-
| cal one.
"Ah, that's it" said Graves. ITS more
than human"
''Who is it," said CUTLER. in his abrupt
way again.
"'Pon my soul can't tell YOU, for I
don't know. It's queer story. and one
| Pm almost ashamed to ask YOU to believe.
sha'n't blame you if you think I'm hum
| bugging."
We settled ourselves by the fire with
| our pipes, and Dick began his story in a
manner, Tor him, so unusually grave and
| impressive that it seemed to leave no
room for doubt as to lis perfect good faith
| in the matter
II went into Cornwall, as you know. at
1 the end of the summer, and after looking
round Newlyn for while, / went 20 the
south coast, TO try and find some place
that was less painted. / stayed few DAYS
at Polperro, but it was all so much like
the smaller exhibitions i'll town that
could not stand it, and finally landed at
-" naming small seaport town
where there were no painters and not
many visitors. i stayed at the Ship Inn,
and looked around Tor some place to hang
up my palette. After some inquiries |
found a small cottage which had been
empty for some time, but which had evil
IDENTIFY been used as studio, for there
was wall knocked out at one
side and good-sized room added
with high north light. On the
south, the kitchen and 'parlor'. which
opened one into the other, had view OF
the lovoliest little harbor in the world
| The place was just what / wanted, and
the rent was absurd-only el0 year; so
| l took it for six months, on the under
standing was to keep it on if / choose.
l bought a few things to make the place
| comfortable, and got an old woman TO look
/ diNti ~ iOI mt plb uNtO HOSL Oh
the time at the Ship Inn, and Just at
first l spent very little time at the studio,
only taking in my canvasses at night
When October set in cold and wet, | had
to do some work indoors, and then it was
when j began to think there was soma
thing queer about the place. One day |
! had been painting young girl from the
village, tue granddaughter of my ancient
dame, and | was putting few touches to
the background, when L heard a sound
behind me, like very gentle sigh.
looked round quickly, but there was no
| one in sight-no one in the room, in fact
| went on painting, with an uncomfort-
able feeling of something uncanny, and
in few minutes the sound was repeated
actually at my ear. | dropped my brush
with the start | made, and then | went all
through the house to see IL any one was
| in it. j knew that Annie and her grand
mother had gone home, and thought
boped-that some poor soul had crept in
to shelter from the rain by the kitchen
fire. Well, there was not soul near
| the place. l locked up carefully that
night when l went back to the
inn, and in the solace OF glass of grog
and pipe before L 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