Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1891-03-25

pipe before / went to bed / almost per-
suaded 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 were
couple of brush-marks, such as you
might make if you were trying 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 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
must have done the damage myself
| when 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 [ never
was 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 that | had some means of COM
forting the poor soul who had no other
language in which to express her de-
spair. | 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.
81 suppose the thing would have end
ed 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 the help of a rug
and pillow shuffled into the back of
my chair. / made myself tolerably
comfortable for the night. How long L
slept | don't know. 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 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
[ could see everything in the room
quite plainly, but | seemed oppressed
by some weight that made me power
less 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 a
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 merry
Gus intensity that it thrilled one to see.
| looked to see what he was painting,
for he kept glancing over towards the
patch in the moonlight; but at first [
could see nothing. Then | 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 [ pondered on this
my eyes seemed to become more accus-
toned to the light; and there, in the
moonlight, on the very chair in which
Annie mad sat, was woman, leaning
slightly forward, young, beautiful and
very pale-but you have seen the pic
ture. | looked at her now more than at
him, only glanclng now and then to see
how the work went on. AS | watched
her the face changed, and the sorrow
full, worn look gave place to kind Of
wondering happiness-he has not quite
got it in the picture; ii was as If the
feeling were so Intense 1t made a kind
Of radiance round her. [ don't know
how long [ watched. At last a sound
made me turn and look at the painter.
He had thrown down the palette and
hrI1c hoe oyo6 y1-aC cto nHInrr 1nnl--y,C OF hiS
work; then he turned slowly and held
out his hands with supplicating gesture.
She had risen, too, and came a step for
ward with wonderful light in her
eyes, and just as she put her hand in
his a cloud swept over the moon and
plotted 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 not been
dreaming. After that l must have
fallen asleep, for it was broad daylight
when [ next remember anything, and
heard the welcome and familiar voice of
my old woman preparing my breakfast.
freshingly mundane, and /. got up
stiffened and sore from my uneasy
couch, prepared to find that my phan-
toms of the night before had been
nothing but dream. No; there was
the picture, just as you see it, and on
the floor were the palette and brus hes.
picked them up and looked curiously
at them. If you'll believe me, I could
never make up my mind to clean the
paint off that palette, and it hangs
there just as that fellow left it."
We sat silent for some minutes when
Graves had done. | confess the story
impressed me good deal and, glancing
up, could see that CUTLER was strange
ly moved.
"And did you never have any expla-
nation Of the thing?" said [ at last.
NO" said Graves. 81 never had
any ex planation and [ don't suppose L
ever shall"
CUTLER had risen and stood near the
fire.
II think can give it, he said, knock
ing the ashes out of his pipe.
Graves stared at him; mo one spoke
and he went on, as if unwillingIy-
"That must have been brakes cottage
you had; he was before your time-I