Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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The Branksome Slogan 23 Candle — author unknown — so said the little l bel ibeneath. It was just as he remembered. It filled him with amazement, as it had that morn- ing. But this time he did not wonder ; he was sure. That heavy, silky hair, the long tapering fingers, but most of all, those weird, crazy eyes — it was she — it was Marie d ' Artise — it was the woman he had murdered ! It had been very long ago, and now the wound was healed. He had loved her, but she had found out his secret — and that could not be. Gaz- ing at the picture, he thought of that eventful night when he had ap- proached her. Marie, you know what I have to say. You are the only one who had found out. You must die. It will be very rapid. Her eyes had been dark and wild then, and she cried out as his fingers closed round her slim, white throat. ' ' Oh, Petri, you will be so sorry! Then those eyes were closed — forever. Forever? But here they were, lifelike and terrified, staring down at him. Bah! He should not try to remember that night. He snapped out the light and turned to go, finding his way by the street-light, which shone through the window. Then something happen-

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22 The Branksome Slogan Woman with a Candle ' This painting, ladies and gentlemen, is the original work of de Prsto, donated by Lord Bendal in 1860. It is entitled Landscape of California and is considered one of his finest works. The straggling group of onlookers round the art-gallery quide were bored. A few walk- ed away. One or two polite ones remarked, ' ' How delightful! or Is that so? The guide moved on to the next picture. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is a most remarkably beautiful piece of work. The artist is unknown. Note how lifelike, how finely done it is. Note how the eyes follow one round the room when one moves. The group obediently moved and, true enough, it was amaz- ingly human. Entitled simply Woman with a Candle, it was the portrait of a beautiful, dark-haired woman with a heavy wrap drawn round her shoulders. A lighted candle was in her hand, the fitful light of which threw into bold relief her fine features and the folds of her gown. Her nar row white fingers tapered into long nails and her position was grace- ful and poised, but what struck one immediately, and lingered after in one ' s memory, were her weird, staring eyes. Their colour was not clear, ibut there was a little ring of white around them lending an expression of terror, and giving a touch of mystery to the whole picture. The sight- seers were very impressed and paused to wonder before moving on. One man remained, gazing at the portrait as if puzzled, amazed. He was a thin, foreign-looking man, with his hat drawn down. A jagged, white scar ran down one cheek. For a moment he stood rapt, motionless in front of the picture. Strange, . . . strange, he muttered, shaking his head, and quickened his pace to join the guide, who was now pointing out the merits of a still-life painting. That night the watchman at the art gallery was confronted by the stranger. I left my umibrella here this morning, he said. Would you let me in so that I can get it? Why can ' t you come in the morning? grumtoled the sleepy watch- man, but nevertheless, he took out his great bunch of keys and opened the door. He paused, with the flashlight pointed on the man ' s face. Tell me as soon as you come out, see? I ' ll be right here. No funny stuff, mind you ! Petri, for that was the foreigner ' s name, entered, and with no diffi- culty found his umibrella. He was turning to go when he remembered the picture — the picture of the dark woman. As if by a magnet, his footsteps were drawn down the dark echoing hall, up the three steps. He switched on the light and approached the portrait. Woman tvith a

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24 The Branksome Slogan ed that stopped him dead in his tracks. The picture turned its eyes and watched him. His heart pounded in his ears. Nausea filled him. It was ' no trick of the eye. The portrait had moved. Fascinated, he watched it. The candle in the hand was glowing with a real light flickering now as a gust of wind came in through the window. Then the woman turned her head, pursed her lips and blew out the flame. The darkness closed round him in a sudden wave, but he could see the woman put her hand against the frame and move towards him out of the canvas. He was rooted to the spot. He could not scream, could not run. The appar- ition dropped the candle stick, but it made no noise. She was close to him. She raised her hands, and suddenly swooped at him, her ghastly eyes staring. He staggered back with her cold hand tightening on his throat, her long nails cutting deep into Jiis flesh. He clutched at her gown but there was nothing there. As he let out a strangled cry she seemed to smile. ' It will be very rapid, she whis- pered. He could not get his breath. Darkness was welling up round him and the room was reeling dizzily. The two staring eyes were the last things he saw as he sunk into crushing, agonizing nothingness. They found Petri in the morning, lying strangled and ' bloody on the floor of the art gallery. There was no clue, no foot-prints save his own. It was not until a week later, when the guide was once more taking a group of sight-seers around the gallery, that an observant individual re- marked upon something curious about The Woman with the Candle, artist unknown. Her candle had gone out, and her long pointed nails were bloody. ROSALIND WILLIAMS, Form III. Meet the Atomics Presented by the Branksome Broad n.sting System ANNOUNCER: The makers of ' ' Smoke ;:3Kreen cigarettes present ' The Atomic Family, the story of an average Can- adian family, facing the trials of the times with patience and courage. We shall hear more of the Atomics in a minute, but first, here is Zeke . . . ZEKE : Does smoking irritate your throat? Does it make you cough? Does it make your eyes water? It doesn ' t? Well, you haven ' t tried Smoke Skreens!