Long- long I read- and devoutly, devotedly I gazed. Rapidly and
gloriously the hours flew by and the deep midnight came. The
position of the candelabrum displeased me, and outreaching my hand
with difficulty, rather than disturb my slumbering valet, I placed
it so as to throw its rays more fully upon the book.
But the action produced an effect altogether unanticipated. The rays
of the numerous candles (for there were many) now fell within a
niche of the room which had hitherto been thrown into deep shade by
one of the bed-posts. I thus saw in vivid light a picture all
unnoticed before. It was the portrait of a young girl just ripening
into womanhood. I glanced at the painting hurriedly, and then closed
my eyes. Why I did this was not at first apparent even to my own
perception. But while my lids remained thus shut, I ran over in my
mind my reason for so shutting them. It was an impulsive movement to
gain time for thought- to make sure that my vision had not deceived
me- to calm and subdue my fancy for a more sober and more certain
gaze. In a very few moments I again looked fixedly at the painting.
That I now saw aright I could not and would not doubt; for the first
flashing of the candles upon that canvas had seemed to dissipate the
dreamy stupor which was stealing over my senses, and to startle me
at once into waking life.
The portrait, I have already said, was that of a young girl. It
was a mere head and shoulders, done in what is technically termed a
vignette manner; much in the style of the favorite heads of Sully.
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