Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1896-10-08
THE ARTISTS STORY.

tell you, LADIES, declared hand
some and cynical Wilton Robeley. the
artist, "a fortune teller showed me the
image of my wife two years before |
ever saw her in the flesh and thousands
Of miles from the place first met her. 2
You are the last man in the world
whose mind 1 would think obscured by
the clouds of mysticism, replied the
rich Mrs. Austyn. his friend and patron.
You have never shown any patience
with the charlatans who pretend to ex-
pose and expound the secrets that wise
providence has ordained we should not
fathom. And yet you are taxing our
credulity with a statement that would
be marvellous if true" :"
II must insist upon my veracity in
this instance, = smiled the artist.
Now, don't stop to argue, mamma, I"
urged the elder of the Austyn girls.
''There is story in this, and after Mr..
Robeley has told it you can reclaim him
from the darkness of his superstitions
and air your theories. Now, do tell us
all about it, and three pretty sisters
sighed their curiosity i'll chorus
Just so. You don't ask me to ex-
plain, said the artist with quizzical
look. II shall give you the remarkable
facts and leave you to wrestle with
them. Eight years ago was in Paris
pursuing my studies and lived the life
of Bohemian from choice rather than
from necessity. We fellows held the re-
sponsibilities Of life very lightly and
laughed at all human phenomena that
would not yield to the test of material
ism. Twas chief among the scoffers and
found barefaced fraud in everything
from clairvoyancy to the piercing of the
future through the medium of tea
grounds.
"Then, as now, occasionally broke
entirely away from my usual surround
ings and was one day sauntering along
through Rue de Bogues As passed one
Of the most pretentious houses / was
startled by a scream for help and dashed
through the open doorway to find a
woman battling with flames that with
great leaps and flashes were consuming
the white draperies Of what struck me
combined efforts socnt mastered the in
cipient conflagration. AS the woman
anointed my hands with some soothing
lotion | saw that she was as dark as
gypsy. Her hair rippled back from her
forehead in waves of blue black, her
eyes were brilliant in the same deep
coloring, and her strong, even teeth
suggested polished ivory. She was an
amazon in size. yet the sweeping curves
of beauty were such as to fascinate the
artist, while her motious were as sup
pie and graceful as those of a tiger.
You are gentleman, and there is
but one way i'll which | can offer return
for your service, she said as turned to
leave. Her voice was soft as the notes
Of lutte, and her accent gave unsus-
pected charms to my mother tongue
i was born Of royal blood in India
Through study Of the sacred Vedas and
the pure doctrine of Karma l attained
the power Of divination. Your people
would classify me among fortune tell
ers. but am poles apart from the vul-
gar humbugs that trade upon ignorance
and superstition. Promise you will come
tomorrow, for l am upset by this acci-
dent. Then Twill be both your historian
and your prophet. 1 shall count on you,
IN 'seur
Though mentally sneered at the
woman's pretensions and lay awake
half the night assuring myself that l
would never seek her ont, | was at her
door ten minutes before the appointed
time next day. She had either assumed
her professional air or was under the
spell of her supernatural attainments. /
Will not describe the inner temple Of
mysteries 10 which she conducted me,
but in the weird effect of its hangings,
mirrors, grotesque carvings and mythic-
al symbols it challenges the most hard
ened skepticism. Throwing the whole
light of golden light upon my face
with a powerful reflector she general
lied upon my past life as any shrewd
judge of human nature might do. Then,
suddenly knitting her brows and lean
ing closer, she slowly spelled out Mar
cia Arnold.
That is the name Of the girl you
will marry, she announced i'll dreamy
voice. and there you see her.
with that the lights faded to the
dimness Of deep twilight and there fol-
lowed the darkness Of dungeon Oppo-
site me as if in life was the image of
the sweet anJ beautiful woman you
know as Mrs Robeley. Never before
had l been dominated by the tender pas
sion, but there l was fathoms deep in
love with what might have been an en-
chanting illusion or superb painting.
So deeply was | impressed that after
leaving Ill bewilderment of doubt l
sketched the magnificent creature so in
delibly impressed upon my memory.
Eighteen months later | was in
southern California, enjoying the medi-
cinal virtues of the climate and finding
subjects i'll some of the delightful seen
cry. One morning had my easel at the
edge of a wooded precipice overlooking
charming spread of landscape. The
velvet carnetinp of grass and moss had