LITERATURE

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1695, 26 July 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE

THE TWO PAINTERS.

[From the “South Australian Chronicle.”J A scrap or PAINT, Up at the top of the Mound, at that steep corner where Ramsay lane runs off towsrds the Lawnmarket, three persona bad paused one evening in December to watch the lighting up of the great city spread out at their feet. Princes street, stretched out directly below, was sending forth its thousand flashes cf light, while hero and there, in the dusky mass of building behind it, the sparks of fire appeared to bo creeping out ia every direction, as if bent on replacing and outshining the sunlight which had vanished so shortly before. The group stationed at that quiet corner consisted of there persons, and, as is usual in this world, whatever may be the inward cares or concerns, they appeared to chat together gaily and unconstrainedly, in the full flesh of youth, strength, and beauty. John Guthrie and Angus Maofie were close friends, companions in their aspirations after art and fame, and cl.sa'confidants on every subject affecting their lives, swe one. They were much about an age, too, though in worldly position Macfie had considerably the advantage. In looks and general exterior Angua Macfie also appeared to bear off the pslmi, he being strong, dark, and handsome, while Guthrie was slim, delicate, and somewhat backward. The third person in the group was that cause of half the contention and strife disturbing the world—a woman ; or, rather, to be just, I should say a loving free-sonled, and.highly intellectual young lady, whom I shall here call Kanny Forrester. The meeting was entirely a chance one—the two friends having been slowly ascending the Mound, psst the Royal Institution, linked together, and gravely disnssing their probable chances of success at the forthcoming Exhibition, when tne young gwl came flitting past, and was immediately saluted and escorted as far as the head of the ascent. The friends would willingly have gone farther with their [fair companion, but at the corner ot Bamsay street she —with that readiness and tact which only a woman can exercise with V e perfection of ease—stopped abruptly and said —

* This is your way; so I will have to bid you both good night.’ ‘ Nay, we would willingly conduct you farther on your way,’ eagerly put in Angus Macfie, while the sparkle in Guthrie’s eye and the delitate flush which had mounted to his cheeks showed how heartily he echoed the request. ‘Ah, but'that is more than I eould dare to ask,’ quietly replied the young girl j ‘besides, you have already confessed that you were going up to Mr Guthrie’s to see the picture he has all but completed ; and, as the hour is not late, I am not at all afraid to go alone.’

‘ But I can go up alone,’ put in Guthrie, modestly and retiringly, * and Mr Madia will gladly accompany you.’ A metry shako of the young girl’s curls interrupted the proposal. Whether Mies Forrester wonld have given them that shake had Guthrie himself proposed to accompany her alone is another question altogether. Some in their bitter railings against frail, humanity say that the wealthiest and most handsome aro always [preferred by the fair sex ; but I can truly testify that such is not invariably tho case, as the reader may see before I finish this sketch.

‘ No, no,’ lightly and laughingly answered the young 'girl, *go away and study your pictures your lights and shades—your subjects and your execution—remember how soon tho Exhibition comes on. Whichever of you takes the highest place there shall be my knight-errant for the whole season after—there now I’ and with .a merry curtsey and a flashing look right into John Guthrie’s eyes, she was gone. What a mysterious, incomprehensible thing is humanity after all. As Fanny Forrester tripped off - thus lightly, followed by the eager gaze of the two friends, each of them treasured up her parting look and words as if they had been specially directed to himself; yet, most unaccountable of all, Guthrie, who had scarcely spoken during the whole interview, who had shrank steadily into the shade, while his companion rattled on in a stream of eloquence and gallantry—he felt the quietest, deepest happiness of the two, Macfie felt roused anxious—irritated; and would have given anything at the moment to have torn aside the young girl’s mask of merriment a’-d smiles for one glimpse at her heart and its feelings towards himself; but Guthrie, poor, shrinking, and obscure, for the first time in his life tasted the exquisite happiness of, hope. Hitherto he had gazed Jupon tho young girl and dreamed of her much as one might admire and worship the son, which he could never hope to reach or come near j but now, in one parting flash of her eyes, and a few apparently meaningless words, she had instilled a new life and impulse into his whole being. * Whichever takes the highest place there ;’ Guthrie treasured the words as he would have done a magic talisman that was to bring him all that the heart of man can delight in. He knew exactly what his own powers were, and what where those of his friend. He himself paintedj for food and fame; hia companion only for pleasure, and to be able to call himself an artist

They turned up towards Guthrie’s lodgings in Ramsay Gardens in silence, snd no longer linked together as they had been before the chance meeting with the young girl. A nameless feeling had sprung up between them, which was neither hate nor jealously ; but which, on Macflo’s part at least, partook somewhat of the nature of both these passions, ‘ Something might happen him—he might turn ill—be unable to finish the picture,” he moodily thought to himself, as he turned up the stair after Guthrie to bis lodging on the first flat, for the first time hungrily envious of his friend’s power with the brush and pencil— 1 or an accident might destroy the work of months.’

He stopped abruptly there, for Guthrie had unsuspiciously led Hum into a room facing the north, whejftupon an easel ths picture causing himsAh disquietude stood, all bnt finished. subject was an historical one, depicting an incident in the life of Mary, Queen of Scots, and containing three or four figures, which actually appeared to stand out from the canvass in gleaming mail and rusty doublet, so lifelike were their proportions and characteristic|their attitud s and expression of countenance. Agnus Macfio stood back from the picture, standing out like a living group in the full blaze of light turned on it by Guthrie, fee’ing a cold chill creeping over his heart, freezing his admiration into hate, and making his fingers itch to tear the glowing canvas from its wooden stretcher.

‘Do you not like it 7’ Guthrie at last tinrdly ventured to enquire, surprised athis friend’s silence.

‘ Like it ! it is beyond praise,’ cried Matffi", with an effort to appear pleased. ‘lt will take the whole city by storm, snd leave my poor daub completely in the shade,’

‘ Thera, you are flattering me now ? ’ incredulously echoed Guthrie, with a warm flush nevertheless mounting his cheeks. ‘ You know it is full of faults.’ ‘ I am speaking the truth,’ answeredMaofie instill tones” I wish I had it in my power ti say otherwise, for I have really striven to keep pace with you. I suppose it is finished now, and you will soon put in a frame and send it in.’ . . ‘ Not quite finished. I cannot find it in my heart to leave it yet,’ caul Guthrie, leaning lovingly over his handiwork. ‘ I shall very likely keep it beside me to the last, touching and retouching till the end of the month frightens me into fairly sending it in. * »It would sell well, too. A hundred guineas would not he too much to ask for such a picture,’ continued Maofie, with a watchful look into Guthrie b fa'•. ‘Then commissions may flow in worth three times the amount. Upon my word, you are on the high road to fortune. You will be getting married next.’ Guthrie remained silent, but the other noted with a pang the confused flush creep up over his cheeks and brow, and perfectly understood whom he alluded to when ho stammered ont—

* No' Angus, I could never n arry a woman to place her in a lower position than she held. I would first need to become her equal,’

'At last! At last I have his secret I thoight Macfie. ‘He does love her, then, and hopes to win her. What folly 1 What utter presumption I He who has nothing, and she who may yet be an heiress almost in her own right. Yet am I quite sure that she would accept me? Not at all. But then, as he is certain to take the foremost place in the Exhibition, supposing she kept her merry promise, and allowed him to be her constant chaperon, might not the constant intercourse do a mischief to my cause ?’

He looked from the picture to the commonplace, pa'e-looking face of the man who had painted it, and for a moment wondered what he had to be jealous of; but with the next breath he was wishing from his heart that he had never introduced the two who were now cansing him such pain. Then hi* eyes ran round the room, calculating the chances of ingress by door or window, while the idea of getting at the picture by fair means or foul, strengthened ateadi'y in his treacherous heart. One more attempt he did make, which, though unnoticed at the time, was afterwards to rise in the other’s mind and memory with peculiar significance. ‘ What would you say, now, to me becoming the purchaser of the picture ? ’ he suddenly ashed.

‘You? you? You would never spend so much on a thing yon could paint yourself ?’ stammered Guthrie, in surprise. ‘I would, and just for my own benefit, but only on condition that you should not eihibit it, or that you should let it appear there in my name,’ was the incautious reply. ‘ What ? Would you actually commit a fraud so basa ?’ cried Guthrie, in horror at the proposal. ‘No ; surely I have not been so mistaken in yon —one whom I prize as my best friend. There now, I see you were only joking. How silly of me not to understand it at once. But apart from that altogether, I would not on any condition or for any sum forego exhibiting this picture. The fact is, Angus, lam too thin skinned. I should work for food alone, I know ; yet mere fame is what most constantly dwells in my mind and appears in my dreams. To see that picture well hung and admired by a’l, especially my own immediate friends, I would sacrifice ten years of my life itself. ’ ‘ I knew it—l knew it I’ thought the other darkly. ‘He wishes Fanny Forrester to see It. I wonder if I could disappoint them both, and without either suspecting the hand that did it ?’

It may seem strange, prrhaps incredible to some, that a man harboring such thoughts should actually so far play the hypocrite as to sit down and eat with his intended victim. Bat this really did take place. Warmly pressed to stay by Guthrie, and yet uncertain how he might act in the part floating hazily through his mind, the envious wretch sat down, chatted pleasantly and wittily through the meal set before him, sent out for a bottle of wine and sedulously plied his friend with it, accompanied by judiciously administered flrttery, till in a burst of fervor poor Guthrie declared he had no real friend on earth but the man before him. It was late, nearly eleven o’clock, when they separated ; and Guthrie, after seeing his friend out at the door, turned back to his humble pair of rooms, feeling as happy and elated as if he had had his first glimpse of heaven. His step was unsteady, and his eye dim and confused ; but before returning to his little bedroom he could not refrain from patting aside the cover from the picture and saying, ‘That shall win her! I feel that it shall win her! And if it does, Agnus, dear noble fellow, shall know all. I feel ashamed of myself for keeping a single secret from him.’

He turned out the light and undressed slowly in the dark, looking out on the dark city sleeping below, the dimming lights and clear stars, with that pleasure only known to the artist, and in half an hour more was asleep—not soundly, but dreaming feverishly of success and fame. (2c be continued.)