The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1898-08-28
The Mad Artist.

| had been there about six weeks. when.
| one evening, as lay on the sitting room
| sofa smoking and Illuminating, l became
| oddly conscious Of another presence IN
| the rooni-conscious that l was not alone
Then 1 looked around and saw. 10 my
astonishment. on the farthest side OF the
| square center table a man standing. side
| ways TO me- at an easel, painting in oils.
l saw him as clearly as l see the paper
now before me-smaI. thin man. with
| prominent bright brown eyes. wearing
an old black velveteeu coat. l knew 1
was suffering from some delusion. yet
| still ! saw the fellow painting away as
| if his life depended upon il
Presently he scraped his palette and
| placed 1t on one side; he picked up nm
shed picture from the floor and put 1t
carefully in the drawer of heavy oak
| table behind him. He closed the drawer,
but not a sound of palette-knife nor
closing drawer reached me.
Then, for the first time, the man look
ed at me, his feverish brown eyes fas-
| tened on me intent and eager.
The vision could have lasted but two or
three minutes; then man, easel and oak
table were gone, and l saw my room with
its common painted deal furniture just as
usual.
Well, shook myself. and resolved for
the sake of my brain, to work rather less
hard in future. But, in spite OF the teach
ings of common sense, those eager brown
eyes haunted me; neither could L forget
the finished picture of which l had had
full view my trained eye told me at once
that it was the work of a masterhand.
The subjct was a shipwreck and l would
have given my life to have painted the
beating waves as they had been depict
ed on that supernatural canvas-or, as
told myself, on the canvas of the mir
age conjured up by my tired brain.
Strolling back that evening. I passed
a lady whom 1 had often noticed be-
cause of her sad history. She was the
widow of an artist of whom once great
things had been predicted. The poor fell
low had gone mad, and, though still paint
ing, had allowed no one to ever see his
work
What he had done with it's canvasses
no one knew-probably he had burned
them; at any rate, when he died. not
trace of his work was to be found His
young widow was left penniless. She
was forced to support herself-as she had
been forced during much Of her married
life-by doing elementary teaching and
needle work.
1 had gone little way on when heard
Raymor had slipped on the steep, stony
descent and fallen. Naturally ! offered
her assistance, of which she sood in need.
for she had sprained her foot badly, and
could barely walk. Luckily, her lodgings
were close by, and with the aid of my
arm she hobbled to them.
l helped her into the poor sitting room
she rented. From its appearance from the
sewing machine and the piles of work
lying on the table I guessed how hard
the poor soul strove to make the two ends
meet.
She was a small, gentle woman. with
the remains of good looks. but looking
older than her 30 years, which was not
surprising when one thought of her mat
rimonial experience and of her struggle
to keep up her small home.
Il would not mind my foot, II my hand
were not wrenched, too she said with
sigh and a glance at the unfinished work
spread about.
She was so gentle, so graceful for my
small help. that found myself giving her
landlady directions for her comfort as if
she were a helpless child. When 1 had
done what l could l said goodbye.
1 had turned no leave the room when |
my eye was caught by an oil painting on |
the opposite wall, the Observation-Disclosures |
painting of a white-faced, brown-eyed |
man in velveteen coat--in short, the por- |
trait of my visitor of the previous night. |
Under the picture stood the heavy oak !
table of my vision.
My involuntary exclamation Of surprise |
Mrs. Raymor's attention and |
on seeing me staring hard at the picture |
she told me that it was the portrait Of I
her husband, done by brother artist soon |
after her marriage.
How l got myself out of TIE house I |
do not know. I was feverish with ex-
element, wondering what could be the |
of the mystery. 1 waited that |
evening half expecting a repetition of my |
previous experience; but nothing happen
ed, though the state of my nerves would |
have warranted any Authorization.
The following day I did not paint. |
thought rest was necessary. But. while |
l lay idle on the downs, the vision OF
that white-faced artist was ever before
me- 1 grew quite disturbed, and thought
my brain was softening
The following day, at the earliest posi-
BILE moment. l called on Mrs Raymor.
for l had resolved to get to the bottom
of the affair If could.
The doctor had forbidden her to use her
hands or foot for a month at least, and
was greatly depressed. For a while I
made conversation, turning over in my
mind how l could lead her to talk of the
picture.
At last I went to examine the oak ia
Bile. 1t was, as l have already said. the
exact duplicate of that other table, ex-
cept that the latter had possessed a draw
ar. and in this one. deep and heavy as 1t
was I could see no opening.
Noting my interest in IL. Mrs. Raymor
asked me whether 1 could help her sell
L. She said she must have money; that, |
through her accident she could not gain
even the small sums she had before
that she had long ago sold almost
of value, but had retained
he table because her husband had been
so proud of it. Though she assured me
The table held no drawer, 1 remained IN
convinced. and I continued to examine it
ninutely.
Suddenly I remembered a table I had
seen years before in an old curiosity shop.
which had possessed a secret spring in
me OF the legs I had hit on the secret.
rhe center leg was embeliished with
Iuaint. deeply cut heads Of demans. In
he open mouth OF one Of these my fin
ger touched a spring.
Immediately the tables carved half
'front.' slid suddenly back. revealing a
arge, deep drawer. Trembling with eager
less. / pulled It open, and there lay the
mad artists canvasses. some thirty or
more large and small. On the top lay
he Wreck" the masterpiece I had seen
N the previous night.
Well, I possessed friends in the paint
pictures for fairly decent prices; enough
Il any rate. 70 give the widow a modest
Tor life
learned LATER that Ravmor and his