Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1891-07-15

uiAUt. ana tnen went ali tilTNuEn tils
house TO see If any one was in IT, knew
that Annie and her grandmother had
gone home, and | thought hoped
that some poor soul had crept in to shell
ter from the rain by the kitchen fire.
Well. there was not soul near the place.
/ locked up carefully that night when
went back to the inn, aud in the solace of
glass of grog and a pipe before | went
to bed / almost persuaded myself there
was nothing in il. 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 were a couple of brush marks,
such as you might make If you were try
ing the tooth of a canvas. completely
spelling my work of the day before. |
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 suspi-
cions. We reached the house together,
but could find no means by which any
one could have entered, and at last was
obliged TO conclude that / must have
done the damage myself when let my
brushes fall. In few days, however, il
became impossible to explain the thing
by this or any other natural means; con.
stantly my canyases were tampered with,
and grew to have the feeling that after
twilight 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 per-
sonality, and to wish had some means
of comforting the poor soul who had no
other language in which to express hei
despair. did not think it was she who
had defaced my canvases, however, and
took TO carrying my work back with me
at night to the inn, where they We're Sc
cure from interference.
Il suppose the thing would have ended
there but for an accident. There was a
race meeting in the town, and the Ship
was invaded by low set of fellows, who
got drunk and made beasts of themselves
generally. The place became unbeara.
BILE, and determined TO camp in the stu
dio until they cleared out. made up
big fire, got my old woman to leave me
some hot water in the kettle, and with
help of rug and pillow stuffed into
the back of my chair l made myself toll
erably comfortable for the night. How
long slept don't know. awoke sud
denly, not as one does in bed, with
drowsy feeling of relief that it is toe
early to get up, but with every sense on
the alert, and curious impression that
something unusual was happening. The
fire was still bright, and made a glow on
the opposite wall but what made the
room so light was the moon shining in
through the square window in the roof.
i could see everything in the room quite
plainly, but i seemed oppressed by some
weight that made me powerless 10 move
sat there staring at what had happened
as helpless as if had been bound. Ny
painting things were just as ] had lef'
Them my canvas, on which | haa
sketched in a head, on the easel, and clos,
by, ON a stool, paints, brushes, and pal
cite. They had been there, that is tc
say, for now there stood in front of the
easel, with his back to me, a tall man,
with stoop in his shoulders, and dark
gray hair; he had my palette in his hand,
ous intensity that it thrilled one TO see
/ looked TO see what he was painting, for
he kept glancing over toward the patel
in the moonlight; but at first ! could ser
nothing. Then heard that little gentle
sigh, but not, it seemed to me, so utterly
weary and heartbroken as formerly il
was sigh almost of content. And as |
pondered on this my eyes seemed to be-
come more accustomed TO the light; and
there in the moonlight, on the very chair
IN which Annie had sat. was woman,
leaning slightly forward, young, beauti.
fal, and very pale-but you have seen the
picture / looked at her now more than
at him, only glancing now and then t.
see how the work went ON. As watched
her the face changed, and the sorrowful
worn look gave place to kind of won
dering happiness-he has not quite got il
in the picture; it was as if the feeling
were SO intense it made kind of radi-
ance round her. don't know how long
/ watched. At last sound madeo me
turn and look at the painter; he had
thrown down the palette and brushes, and
was standing looking at his work; then
he turned slowly and held out his hands
with supplicating gesture. She had
risen, too, and came a 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 fig
ures from my sight. When it passed the
patch of moonlight was empty, and there
was only the painted head and the palette
living ON the floor to convince me that
had not been dreaming. After that
must have fallen asleep, for it was broad
daylight when next remembered any
thing. and / heard the welcome and fa-
niliar sound of my old woman preparing
my breakfast. The smell of frying pill
chards was refreshingly mundane, and
got up stiff and sore from my uneasy
couch. prepared to find that my phan-
toms of the night before had been moth
ing but a dream. No; there was the
picture Just as you see it, and ON the fioor
were the palette and brushes picked
them up, and looked curiously at them.
If you'll believe me, could never make
upmy mind to clean the paint off that pal
ette. and it hangs there just as that fellow
left it. !"
We sat silent for some minutes wheE
Graves had done. / confess the story
impressed me a good deal, and glancing
up could see that Quiller was strangely
moved.
aa-a 5;S 80, ,,o,-..- 49,. -. ~.<,l,