第57章

Theguestwasadmittedintoaparlor，communicatingbyacentral

doorwithaninteriorroomofthesamesize。Asthefirstapartment

wasempty，hepassedtotheentranceofthesecond，withinwhichhis

eyesweregreetedbythoselivingpersonages，aswellastheir

picturedrepresentatives，whohadlongbeentheobjectsofsosingular

aninterest。Heinvoluntarilypausedonthethreshold。

Theyhadnotperceivedhisapproach。WalterandElinorwere

standingbeforetheportraits，whencetheformerhadjustflungback

therichandvoluminousfoldsofthesilkencurtain，holdingits

goldentasselwithonehand，whiletheothergraspedthatofhis

bride。Thepictures，concealedformonths，gleamedforthagainin

undiminishedsplendor，appearingtothrowasombrelightacrossthe

room，ratherthantobedisclosedbyaborrowedradiance。Thatof

Elinorhadbeenalmostprophetic。Apensiveness，andnextagentle

sorrow，hadsuccessivelydweltuponhercountenance，deepening，with

thelapseoftime，intoaquietanguish。Amixtureofaffrightwould

nowhavemadeittheveryexpressionoftheportrait。Walter’sface

wasmoodyanddull，oranimatedonlybyfitfulflashes，whichlefta

heavierdarknessfortheirmomentaryillumination。Helookedfrom

Elinortoherportrait，andthencetohisown，inthecontemplationof

whichhefinallystoodabsorbed。

ThepainterseemedtohearthestepofDestinyapproachingbehind

him，onitsprogresstowardsitsvictims。Astrangethoughtdarted

intohismind。Wasnothisowntheforminwhichthatdestinyhad

embodieditself，andheachiefagentofthecomingevilwhichhe

hadforeshadowed？

Still，Walterremainedsilentbeforethepicture，communingwithit

aswithhisownheart，andabandoninghimselftothespellofevil

influencethatthepainterhadcastuponthefeatures。Graduallyhis

eyeskindled；whileasElinorwatchedtheincreasingwildnessofhis

face，herownassumedalookofterror；andwhenatlastheturned

uponher，theresemblanceofbothtotheirportraitswascomplete。

“Ourfateisuponus！”howledWalter。“Die！”

Drawingaknife，hesustainedher，asshewassinkingtothe

ground，andaimeditatherbosom。Intheaction，andinthelook

andattitudeofeach，thepainterbeheldthefiguresofhissketch。

Thepicture，withallitstremendouscoloring，wasfinished。

“Hold，madman！”criedhe，sternly。

Hehadadvancedfromthedoor，andinterposedhimselfbetweenthe

wretchedbeings，withthesamesenseofpowertoregulatetheir

destinyastoalterasceneuponthecanvas。Hestoodlikeamagician，

controllingthephantomswhichhehadevoked。

“What！”mutteredWalterLudlow，asherelapsedfromfierce

excitementintosilentgloom。“DoesFateimpedeitsowndecree？”

“Wretchedlady！”saidthepainter，“didInotwarnyou？”

“Youdid。”repliedElinor，calmly，asherterrorgaveplaceto

thequietgriefwhichithaddisturbed。“But-Ilovedhim！”

Istherenotadeepmoralinthetale？Couldtheresultofone，

orallourdeeds，beshadowedforthandsetbeforeus，somewouldcall

itFate，andhurryonward，othersbesweptalongbytheirpassionate

desires，andnonebeturnedasidebythePROPHETICPICTURES。

byNathanielHawthorne

ONEAFTERNOONofacoldwinter’sday，whenthesunshoneforthwith

chillybrightness，afteralongstorm，twochildrenaskedleaveof

theirmothertorunoutandplayinthenew-fallensnow。Theelder

childwasalittlegirl，whom，becauseshewasofatenderand

modestdisposition，andwasthoughttobeverybeautiful，herparents，

andotherpeoplewhowerefamiliarwithher，usedtocallViolet。

ButherbrotherwasknownbythestyleandtitleofPeony，on

accountoftheruddinessofhisbroadandroundlittlephiz，which

madeeverybodythinkofsunshineandgreatscarletflowers。Thefather

ofthesetwochildren，acertainMr。Lindsey，itisimportantto

say，wasanexcellentbutexceedinglymatter-of-factsortofman，a

dealerinhardware，andwassturdilyaccustomedtotakewhatiscalled

thecommon-senseviewofallmattersthatcameunderhis

consideration。Withaheartaboutastenderasotherpeople’s，he

hadaheadashardandimpenetrable，andtherefore，perhaps，asempty，

asoneoftheironpotswhichitwasapartofhisbusinesstosell。

Themother’scharacter，ontheotherhand，hadastrainofpoetryin

it，atraitofunworldlybeauty-adelicateanddewyflower，asit

were，thathadsurvivedoutofherimaginativeyouth，andstillkept

itselfa