door；　there　it　is　framed　within　them；　painted　strongly；　and　glowing　in
  the　richest　tints…　the　faces　of　the　portraits…　the　figures　and
  action　of　the　sketch！〃
  He　knocked。
  〃The　Portraits！　Are　they　within？〃　inquired　he　of　the　domestic；　then
  recollecting　himself…　〃your　master　and　mistress！　Are　they　at　home？〃
  〃They　are；　sir；〃　said　the　servant；　adding；　as　he　noticed　that
  picturesque　aspect　of　which　the　painter　could　never　divest　himself；
  〃and　the　Portraits　too！〃
  The　guest　was　admitted　into　a　parlor；　communicating　by　a　central
  door　with　an　interior　room　of　the　same　size。　As　the　first　apartment
  was　empty；　he　passed　to　the　entrance　of　the　second；　within　which　his
  eyes　were　greeted　by　those　living　personages；　as　well　as　their
  pictured　representatives；　who　had　long　been　the　objects　of　so　singular
  an　interest。　He　involuntarily　paused　on　the　threshold。
  They　had　not　perceived　his　approach。　Walter　and　Elinor　were
  standing　before　the　portraits；　whence　the　former　had　just　flung　back
  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
  。