hitherto observed.

It consisted merely of a head, or rather a face, that appeared to be
staring full upon me, and with an expression that was startling. It was
without a frame, and at the first glance I could hardly persuade myself
that it was not a real face, thrusting itself out of the dark oaken
pannel. I sat in my chair gazing at it, and the more I gazed the more
it disquieted me. I had never before been affected in the same way by
any painting. The emotions it caused were strange and indefinite. They
were something like what I have heard ascribed to the eyes of the
basilisk; or like that mysterious influence in reptiles termed
fascination. I passed my hand over my eyes several times, as if seeking
instinctively to brush away this allusion--in vain--they instantly
reverted to the picture, and its chilling, creeping influence over my
flesh was redoubled.

I looked around the room on other pictures, either to divert my
attention, or to see whether the same effect would be produced by them.
Some of them were grim enough to produce the effect, if the mere
grimness of the painting produced it--no such thing. My eye passed over
them all with perfect indifference, but the moment it reverted to this
visage over the fire-place, it was as if an electric shock darted
through me. The other pictures were dim and faded; but this one
protruded from a plain black ground in the strongest relief, and with
wonderful truth of coloring. The expression was that of agony--the
agony of intense bodily pain; but a menace scowled upon the brow, and a
few sprinklings of blood added to its ghastliness. Yet it was not all
these characteristics--it was some horror of the mind, some inscrutable
antipathy awakened by this picture, which harrowed up my feelings.