The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1909-02-15

| weight was scarcely more tnan Jnat OF
| an empty coffin. The woman further
said that as the small funeral
/ cortege was leaving the church, 1t had
surprised every one to see the hus
band, who was directly behind the
coffin, pause abruptly under a statue
of the Virgin, and single out, from
the great bunch of white ribbons
which hung there, the long strip
which his young wife had placed there
on the day of her marriage to him,
less than a year before. II was an old
custom connected with this church
! Every girl ever married there had con-
formed to It, and some of the rib
bons were yellow with time and al
most dropping to pieces. The long
est and freshest bit of all had been
| put there by the beautiful and be.
loved young creature now lying dead
in the flower of her youth and lowell.
! ness.
No one ever knew, the woman went
| on to say, how the master spent his
days after the funeral was over. He
had forbidden every servant to re.
| turn, and turned a deaf ear to the
rings and knocks OF visitors. Months
had passed, and no one held speech
| with him. They knew he was alive,
because people who had looked
| through the palings had seen him
walking in the garden.
As was inevitable, after hearing all
this, my interest in the picture, and
the key deepened sensibly. There
was certainly a spell of the super
natural about them for me- had
only to stand near the spot on which
the eyes of the picture we're fastened
TO experience the strangcst, the most
overwhelmingly significant sensations
| had ever known.
One day--in was the 10Th of August
"A hot, sultry, close, indescribably
gloomy day, when the heavy clouds
that lowered seemed only to darken
| the whole earth without giving forth
one drop of moisture-the old woman
came to my room and chanccd to men.
| tiOn that It was the time of the death
of the young mistress OF the Chateau
| Blanc. She had died, It appeared.
| just at midnight between the 18th
| and Goth of August. After giving me
this information. she said good.even-
ing and left me to the reflections
which IT aroused.
can scarcely call them reflections
They took the form, rather, of a sort
of compulsion that was laid upon me
to obey a certain force by which / felt
myself suddenly dominated
II was the picture that did It; this
was certain, for as often as faltered,
one look into that insistent, command.
ing, coercing face compelled me to 60
on. In obedience to its bidding, did
as follows:
went 10 an old desk in the room
and took from It some simple carpen-
ters' tools, with which / deliberately
cut through, first, the wallpapering
and then a thin boarding, which GOV.
cred all the space between a door and
window opposite the picture. When
this was done saw cannot say
whether most to my satisfaction or
my horror, that | stood opposite a
door-a regular, ordinary door, with
panels, hinges, and, more than all, a
keyhole. | glanced at the picture II
| seemed to me that the canvas posi-.
lively lived with expression.
The eyes commanded me to get the
| rusty key. | got II, fitted II in the
lock, in which II turned with difficulty,
and then, with my heart almost chok.
| ing me with its throbs, my knees
/ shaking under me, my body covered
with cold sweat, and my tongue dry
in my mouth. ! opened the door.
As It creaked on It's rusty hinges,
saw by the light of the candle which
/ held in my hand, mass Of cobwebs,
| heavily weighted with the dust OF
years, and, through these, woman's
figure.
II was clad-for / Obeyed the eyes,
which commanded me TO examine II.
! though my heart was cold with terror
lin what | made out to be a white
silk gown above which was the face,
withered and awfully livid as | had
heard the faces OF embalmed corpses
appear years after death. Still, It was
recognizable as a real human face, and
was surrounded by masses of yellow
hair, which, even through the dust and
cobwebs, cleaned with the brightness
Of gold The hands held something in
their shrunken fngers-a white rib.
bon, with the date of her marriage and
death upon IT, her husbands name
and her own, and these words, which,
under the compelling eyes OF the pic
ture, | laboriously studied out:
Il have been able to keep you near
me, even in death. | have never been
separated from you, or from what was
you to me once. But when death shall
come TO me you will have no power
over my body, and they will take me
from you. That | am unable to help.
think only Of this: You cannot suf-
fer for it since you have so long
ceased to be, and by that time my
suffering also will be over | shall put
my spirit into the eyes of my picture,
which will watch over you still"
| looked from the paper to the pic
ture II seemed dull and inexpensive
mere canvas and paint. The power
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