The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1892-06-16

| dusty rolls OF canvas, an OccaSlonG
piece of unmodeled clay, easels, pallet
ties and brushes in hopeless confusion
marked this the workroom of an art
list. The floor was bare except for {
tiger skin thrown in front of q larg
fireplace, where the cracking hickory
wood diffused CHEEKY glow through
out the room. A flood of light came
in through the skylight and illuminat
ed q portrait resting on an easel, be
fore which young man was seated
painting.
The portrait was that of q you'll
whose sun OF boyhood had scarcely
set; the face was singularly earnest
with large blue eyes, fair hair, regular
features and an expression which BAT
fed scription.
The artist was Robert MERCER. Now
and then he paused, and then contin
ued, as if his task were painful and
difficult. Occasionally he arose anG
carefully scrutinized his efforts. Sud
denly the door was pushed open and
a young man entered. He greeted the
artist Familiarity.
"Ah, MERCER, how does the picture!
Almost finished, see. You promised
to tell me the circumstances of Blanc's
death some time. Why not Dow?"
The young fellow threw off his over
coat and sat down by the fire with an
expectant air. MERCER rose, leaned
one elbow on the mantelpiece, and
gazed steadfastly at his friend.
] doubt if you will believe it when
told, but if you care to hear, listen.
1t is q strange narrative. And he
related the following:
I knew Edmond Blanc in Paris; we
had rooms together in the Quarter
Latin. He was studying to become
an artist, and was very handy with
his brush. That sunset on the
mantel is his work. He was not
wealthy, and o little too proud. On
the other hand he was courteous and
good hearted, always knew just what
to do ut the right time, and a most
generous fellow. But he had q temper
quick, dangerous, and at times un.
comfortable.
One Sunday in October, late in the
afternoon, I sat in the study, won.
dering what had become of my chum,
when suddenly Edmund rushed into
the room in q perfect frenzy of ex,
element. His manner indicated
that something frightful had occurred;
his face was ashen pale, and his trembl-
ing hand convulsively grasped small
dagger.
He sank into chair and began in
wild disconnected strain:
'"That cursed tree! At last l have
escaped from i'll"
had never seen him so agitated.
Before I could answer, however, he re.
sumed:
''Mercier, listen to me. After 1 left
you this morning I walked toward
the country Ifelt worried about those
academy debts, and thought quiet
ramble would do me good. 1 was
walking along with Fidele at my heels,
when thundershower came upon us.
l looked around for some protection
from the rain, and spying tree near
at hand, ran toward it. | found
there q man who had already awaited
himself of it's shelter. We fell into a
conversation which lasted long, and
somehow was turned INTO o political
dispute. We both became very angry.
Suddenly he caught me by the throat
and pulled out a dagger. ] snatched
it from him, but by an unexpect-
ed twist the point pierced his side,
and he fell at my feet, dead. Oh, Mer-
cier, ! am murderer"
Here the poor fellow covered his
face with His hands and groaned.
After o while he went on:
"Bqt this isn't all. After this
horrible thing happened l turned to
come home, and as | looked behind
mel swear it is true!-there, close
at my back, was that tree following
me! | thought I was he VICTIM OF
soms ballucination, and tried to
reason Tayself 9qt 81 it; but tits true,
too true! 1t foiiowa4 close as nay own
shadow. At times l had to run, for
was afraid it would fall on me.
Thank heaven, have left it outside'
Then be would say nc! more, moth
ing about the man he had left for dead,
nothing Of the possible consequences
Of his deed, and it occurred to ME that
it was all q miserable mistake, o
temporary alteration induced by
overwork and worry.
AS he seemed completely exhausted
by excitement, l persuaded him to
retire. An hour later, as he slept
peacefully, I examined the dagger
still lying on the study table. 1t bore
no signs OF recent use; it was O. small
bit OF pointed steel, sAch as the
women of medieval times were &C
customed to carry concealed about
them. / retired, fully believing that
the next day would clear up the
mystery.
The next morning I was awakened
early by hearing Blanc call me.
hurried to his roon2. There he was
before the open window, which faced
the thoroughfare, gazing with indgs'
cribable horror at something outside
"What is it?" | asked, running to
him.
"Oh," he cried, "there is that cursed
tree in the middle of the street, and
people don't seem to mind it-they
pass right by, Sect wave it's ARMS
towards mel"
/ looked where he pointed, but
could see nothing.
"Some strange fancy has taken
possession of your BRAIN" / said.
He turned to me with look OF un,
utterable agony, and / shall never
forget his face as he said with stern
almost fierce emphasis
"You speak falsely! You must be