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the rich and voluminous folds of the silken curtain； holding its
golden tassel with one hand； while the other grasped that of his
bride。 The pictures； concealed for months； gleamed forth again in
undiminished splendor； appearing to throw a sombre light across the
room； rather than to be disclosed by a borrowed radiance。 That of
Elinor had been almost prophetic。 A pensiveness； and next a gentle
sorrow； had successively dwelt upon her countenance； deepening； with
the lapse of time； into a quiet anguish。 A mixture of affright would
now have made it the very expression of the portrait。 Walter's face
was moody and dull； or animated only by fitful flashes； which left a
heavier darkness for their momentary illumination。 He looked from
Elinor to her portrait； and thence to his own； in the contemplation of
which he finally stood absorbed。
The painter seemed to hear the step of Destiny approaching behind
him； on its progress towards its victims。 A strange thought darted
into his mind。 Was not his own the form in which that destiny had
embodied itself； and he a chief agent of the coming evil which he
had foreshadowed？
Still； Walter remained silent before the picture； communing with it
as with his own heart； and abandoning himself to the spell of evil
influence that the painter had cast upon the features。 Gradually his
eyes kindled； while as Elinor watched the increasing wildness of his
face； her own assumed a look of terror； and when at last he turned
upon her； the resemblance of both to their portraits was complete。
〃Our fate is upon us！〃 howled Walter。 〃Die！〃
Drawing a knife； he sustained her； as she was sinking to the
ground； and aimed it at her bosom。 In the action； and in the look
and attitude of each； the painter beheld the figures of his sketch。
The picture； with all its tremendous coloring； was finished。
〃Hold； madman！〃 cried he； sternly。
He had advanced from the door； and interposed himself between the
wretched beings； with the same sense of power to regulate their
destiny as to alter a scene upon the canvas。 He stood like a magician；
controlling the phantoms which he had evoked。
〃What！〃 muttered Walter Ludlow； as he relapsed from fierce
excitement into silent gloom。 〃Does Fate impede its own decree？〃
〃Wretched lady！〃 said the painter； 〃did I not warn you？〃
〃You did；〃 replied Elinor； calmly； as her terror gave place to
the quiet grief which it had disturbed。 〃But… I loved him！〃
Is there not a deep moral in the tale？ Could the result of one；
or all our deeds； be shadowed forth and set before us； some would call
it Fate； and hurry onward； others be swept along by their passionate
desires； and none be turned aside by the PROPHETIC PICTURES。
THE END
。