Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1875-06-15
IFrom the Pictol ial World
a Terrible Alternative
BY LADY DUFFUs HARDY.

a Terrible Alternative
BY LADY DUFFUs HARDY.
"1O Ou seem to be very much struck by
that picture" said my old friend, the
Colonel, CfOr as | don't mean to betray
family secrets | shall speak of him as
the colonel" Only), at whose cosy nook
In Buckinghamshire had quartered my
self for few days. The picture he al
luded TO certainly had attracted an un-
usual amount of my attention, consid-
ering that, as rule, am strangely de
| f1cient in artistic taste
''Well, yes" | answered, my eve re-
! turning to rest on that particular OBJ
! ject, which had attracted it so many
times before; regarding it as picture
| should say it was by no means the
best in your collection, but, regarding
II as portrait, there is something about
| 1t that 'fetches' me. 1t is not that the
face either is handsome or intellectual,
| but there is a strange weird something
| about it which the artist seems TO have
caught fresh from the living face and
| transferred to the canvas, and which
all this after art has failed to paint out. "
| The picture which had given rise to
| certainly not past middle age, dressed in
The fashion of the period of the reign of
George III. The face and figure, as re-
garded mere form and feature, were
commonplace enough; there was moth
ing sufficiently remarkable in the portrait
to attract more than a passing observa-
ton indeed, on looking at it, you felt
that it ought to represent kindly, gen.
tleman; but somehow it didn't. There
seemed TO be something behind it, work
ing out through the painted eyes, as
though 1t or they had seen what they
should not, and were haunted .by-sorne
even IN the grave Turning my back
upon il | shifted my conversation, and
my friend seemed by no means displeas-
ed to dismiss the subject. We had
long, gossipy chat on many matters in
teresting TO old friends who meet but
seldom and with long lapses of time be-
tween. 1t was late before we could
make up our minds TO separate. At
last, as | left the room candlestick in
hand, | could not help, against my will,
casting furtive glance at the portrait,
and hastily shut the door behind me. |
was dead tired, for | had come off a
long lu~ney; but when | got to bed il
was a long time before | could compose
myself to sleep, and when | did 1 was
troubled in my dreams. The portrait
had followed me up stairs, slipped into
my room after me, and tried to get into
the bed beside me but failing in that
went and leaned against the wall and
come out of the frame and climbed up 10
the top of my bed. hid in the curtain
folds, and multiplied itself by thous-
ands, till.sthe whole atmosphere above
and around me, was filled with one
weird, strange face In the morning
my friend hoped | had slept well. |
told him the sort of a purgatory had
endured, adding:
Il am sure there is some grim secret |
connectad with that picture; you may |
as well tell what it is. If it is Il family |
secret, promise to keep it sacred.
"Well,' he answered, after a mo- |
ments reflection, ''there is painful |
story connected with it, The portrait is
that of my grandfather-Dr Mathies let |
us call him. He was one of the physi- |
clans in-ordinary to George III, which |
position he occupied long before he |
reached middle age, He was courte- |
Gus, genial, kindly man, full OF those |
social qualities which make man IA |
vOrite of society. So much | have heard. |
When | knew him things were different. |
In the year 1910, full of high spirits and
anticipations he went to the continent |
for months holiday; he came back at
the end of it an altered man-his genial
nature had clouded with an ineradicable
gloom. He gave up all practice, all So
ciety; bought this place and settled
here he received no visits, paid none;
he lived in his library among his books, |
occasionally taking long solitary ram
bles about the country. His nature did not |
degenerate into harshness, but a strange |
melancholy possessed him; its cause |
was unknown, SO was its cure. lie |
turned his back upon the world, and |
though he was no world scorner, moth |
ing would induce him to enter it again. |
He was a wIdower, and his only SON |
nv father-was then boy at Harrow. |
You NAV imagine this was not a lively |
place for high spirited young fellow to |
come home to. They saw little of each |
other. In due time my father was mar |
ried and | was born. Years passed away |
and one wintry night, when l was about |
eighteen years old, we received tele- |
gram summoning US here. We came, |
and were shown into the room where |
YOU slept last night. The old man, with |
the stamp of death upon his face, was
propped up on pillows where he had |
lain for hours, his eyes fixed on the
door, watching for us. AS we entered |
the room his filmy eyes frightened, his |
eager, outstretched hands trembling as |
we touched them. With the damp \
death dew on his brow, his voice quak- !
ing, and his whole soul shuddering as ne
lived over again one terrible moment of |
l.. 20 So h. t1l1 hn NJ Il