Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1894-04-19
AN ARTISTS STORY.

At the time when my more fortunate
brethren were returning from their sum-
mer holidays loaded with sketches to work
up during the winter l was sitting at the
portrait of city magnate. 1t seemed
hopeless task trying to put any expression
into that heavy, podgy, pudding face.
Suddenly there came gentle rap at the
door. l started 1t was very unusual
with me to have visitors so late in the day.
The man who entered was the most re-
markable man have ever seen. He was
tall and thin-so thin, that, to my over
worked brain and tired eyes, it almost
seemed as if 1 could see right through him.
His face was a deathly white, and his
eyes burned with steady, constant light
that frightened me. Their sole expression
seemed to me their intensity, and when
the freight fell on them they turned
deep blood red like dogs eyes in the sum-
At first he entirely overlooked me, al
though had sprung to my feet as he en-
tered. He crossed over to the easel on
which the portrait of that CHASTITY alder
man was hanging, and he walked with a
silent shuttle, almost without lifting his
feet, that suggested to me that he might
be mad-1 know not why.
He tapped the wet canvas with his
knuckle, and said, still without looking
at me:
"You paint portraits, believe? All,
you paint them well. You must paint
mine"
He spoke in quiet, determined way,
as if he were used to command. Few
words passed between u.s. He wanted ma
to begin at once, in spite of the fast fad
ing light, and Immediately placed a fresh
canvas on the easel.
There he sat like marble, his deathliks
face immovable, his lips tightly closed.
worked away, inspired by the solemn
beauty of his face. A terrible fascination
impelled me, and never worked faster OF
better.
In two hours had completely mastered
his face, but the light Of the eyes no brush
could paint.
''I'm afraid can't see any more to-
night" said "Can you spare me an
other sitting to morrow"
He rose silently and glanced in salts
fed way at the canvas.
''Same time tomorrow" he said, and
then disappeared.
Well, to cut long story short the mys-
terious stranger came and went in the
same silent way for three or four days,
until had finished his picture.
From that day every one who came into
my studio admired the portrait of that
wondrous face My brother artists ad.
vised me to show it at the Academy. As
three months had passed, and had never
heard word from my silent patron,
thought there could be no harm in doing
So
1t was hung ON the line, and rs you
doubtless remember attracted very con-
siderable attention. In those days it was
the custom to put fancy background to
portraits, and l had chosen from among
my sketches a wild craggy ravine, somber
and precipitous, which seemed to harmo-
nize with that striking figure. 1t was a
memento of my last summers trip to
Scotland. From all sides congratulations
poured in, and from that day to this
have never ceased to climb the slippery
ladder of fame.
After the Academy had been opened a
few days, city solicitor called upon me.
81 believe" he said, you are the paint
er of picture No. 45S, at the Academy"
acknowledged 1 was.
"May l ask" went on my visitor, look.
ing curiously round my studio, ''may
ask" he repeated, "who was the original
of that portrait and how long it has been
painted?"
Ellis name, unfortunately, do not
know. AS for the date''-and Iopened my
diary-"yes, here it is-Aug. 81"
"Are you quite sures" said the solicitor,
eagerly stretching out his hand for the
book.
showed him the entry, and he seemed
almost stupefied.
"Did he suggest that background"
"Only by his striking personality. Ihad
sketch of it in my portfolio and picked
it out when the idea was suggested that ]
ought to send it to the Academy"
"Thank you," he said. ~ am extreme
ly obliged" And before had time to ask
any questions he had vanished.
About three mornings afterward cams
across the following paragraph in Ths
Morning News:
THE SCOTTISH MYSTERY.
A most extraordinary trial is now attract
ing attention in Scotland. 1t appears that last
summer certain MIR. Gilchrist was travelling
in Aberdeen with his wife and child. One
morning Mr.. Gilchrist left the hotel OH a noun.
tain expedition, from which he never returned.
The suspicious Of his friends were aroused
by the marriage Of Mrs. Gilchrist O few weeks
after the disaster with a certain Mr.. Freeman,
who had been their travelling companion. They
could, however, find no traces of foul play.
In this years Academy there appeared q
portrait of the deceased. Subsequent investi.
cation showed it had been painted three or -four
months after his death. The artist, however,
could throw no fresh light upon the mystery,
Of which the most extraordinary feature was
that the background-which he selected by
chance-was sketch of the very district In
which Mr. Gilchrist had disappeared.
His relatives determined to sift the matter,
and searching the exact spot In the picture
they have found the body, with rusty dagger
imbcdded in his side.
The weapon was at once identified as the
property of Mr. Freeman, who is now on trial
for the murder of Mr.. Gilchrist.
The prisoner confessed his guilt and
was sentenced to death.-Short Stories.
va~o%ublo with a V3aJls,raa