The record-union., 1897-06-28

millionaire's power-could produce
| such an effect.
i Tomorrow said he, and l fancied
I saw gleam of his eyes and twitch-
| ing Of his lips, Il will explain. Now
1 know you are weary Theodore will
show you your lodging, which l hope
may prove satisfactory"
When he answered that nothing could
be more pleasingly perfect than this
| choice hospitality to belated strangers
he bowed with sudden curt dismissal,
while the man, candle in hand, beck
oned to the door. Not wishing to press
our appreciation in thus sudden display
| of haughtiness, we followed, through
| interminable Corridors into a great
damp tapeStried chamber, where the
servant lit a score of candles that but
seemed to increase sense of gloom. A
great bed, such as you may see in the
museum of Cluny, was at one side, but
the room was singularly cheerless as
the servants steps sounded and faded
outside the closed door. Then we
turned to question each others i'm
pressions; to express our wonder; to
pause with sudden horror and amaze
ment at a full-length portrait of our
looking at us in Henry Quatre costume
the same restless eyes-the gleam of
white teeth under thin exasperating
lips. And watching, I grew to fear
and hate that face.
Pierson shared my feeling The
whole adventure had been so unac-
countable the object Of our entertain
er-even on the score of eccentricity-
so ineXplicible, that sane and strong
| as we were, we readily agreed to lie
down on the bed without removing our
clothes and to leave the candles burn
ing. heavy key turned rustily in the
lock. When / crept to Persons side
he already seemed to be sunken in
slumber as was reasonable after our
many weary miles that day. But l
could not sleep, exhausted as I was.
That striking portrait faced me and
made me dread, and yet at last nature
had her way.
I awakened suddenly with the dread
gripping my heart-awoke horribly in
the pain of nightmare, my eyes on the
portrait of the Sieur de Bellaire that
the still flickering candles showed Or
was it the portrait? I stared; I feared.
All, such horrid fear that it was sick
| ening me even now. The Sieur de Bel
| laire was advancing out of his frame
was nearing me-and, suddenly leaning
| forward, thrust his teeth into my
| throat. I could feel singing biting
pain; and then I had strength to exert
myself against the Thing We strove
mightily-I for life, the Thing for de-
sire. / know of nothing more terrible
than that struggle; I know of nothing
else that sends chill like that of death
through the veins even now. For this
was a struggle Of life and death; the
Thing was ice that froze my heart that
wanted my warm blood to thaw it's own
! iciness of death; and as we rolled and
struggled I heard no sound from Pier
son. The cruel thing with the bestial
fangs had the better; and the desire for
my own life was greater than it's desire
for it. And / mastered it. Yes, life
mastered the thing of death that fought
for the life in me; and when 1 knew
that L had thrust it from me my life
went out of me.
And yet I don't know. If it had been
that L died - that Pierson died -
should not be telling this story
awoke with a sense of warmth, among
tall grass, and the life-giving sun on
my face; and raising myself, I looked
| out on a far reach of moor, the sun of
the daybreak caught in the yellow
| graSstops. No person-no living thing
was in view; yes, there was a house
on near road; but where was the bat