The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1891-03-01


at my ear. dropped my brush with the start
l made, and then 1 went all through the house
to see if any one was in it. knew that Annie
and her grand mother 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 carefully that night when went
back to the inn, and in the solace of a
vent vent to bed I almost persuaded myself
there was nothing in it. In the morning
had really forgotten it, 1 fancy; but when
got back to the studio curious thing had hap
pened. Right across the face in my picture
were 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. / called up Annie and her grand
mother, 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 L was obliged to conclude that L
must have done the damage myself when | let
my brushes fall. In few days, however, it
became impossible to explain the thing by this
or any other natural means; constantly my
canvases were tampered with, and l 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
J expect nd | began at last to clothe it with
personality, and to wish had some means of
comforting the poor soul who had no other
language in which to express her despair. l
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 were secure from interference.
II 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 a
low set of fellows, who got drunk, and made
beasts of themselves generally The place be-
came unbearable, and | determined to camp in
the studio 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 a rug
and pillow stuffed into the back Of my chair
/ | made myself tolerably comfortable for the
night. How long | slept | don't know l
awoke suddenly, not as one does in bed, with
! droWsy feeling OF relief that IL 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 | could see
everything in the room quite plainly, but [
seemed oppressed by some weight that made
me powerless to move. / sat there staring at
what happened as helpless as If had been
bound My painting things were just as ! had
left them; my canvas, on which had sketched
in 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 stoop in his
shoulders, and dark gray hair; he
had my palette IN his hand, and he was paint
ing with a sort of nervous intensity that it
thrilled one TO see. / looked to see what he
was painting, for he kept glancing over toward
the patch in the moonlight; but at first j could
see nothing. Then / heard that little gentle
sigh, but not, it seemed to me, so utterly weary
and heartrbroken as formery it was sigh al
most of content. And as i pondered on this
my eyes seemed to become more accustomed to
the light; and there, in the moonlight, on the
very chair in which Annie had sat, was 9
woman, leaning slightly forward, young, beau
tiful and very pale-but you have seen the pic
ture. looked at her now more than at him,
only glancing now and then TO soc how the