there he sat, a prey to many conflicting and uncomfortable feelings,
until the daylight began to make the candle flame look dull and sickly.

Solution for the events of the night he could find none. He racked his
imagination in vain to find some means, however vague, of endeavouring
to account for what occurred, and still he was at fault. All was to him
wrapped in the gloom of the most profound mystery.

And how strangely, too, the eyes of that portrait appeared to look upon
him--as if instinct with life, and as if the head to which they belonged
was busy in endeavouring to find out the secret communings of his soul.
It was wonderfully well executed that portrait; so life-like, that the
very features seemed to move as you gazed upon them.

"It shall be removed," said Henry. "I would remove it now, but that it
seems absolutely painted on the panel, and I should awake Flora in any
attempt to do so."

He arose and ascertained that such was the case, and that it would
require a workman, with proper tools adapted to the job, to remove the
portrait.

"True," he said, "I might now destroy it, but it is a pity to obscure a
work of such rare art as this is; I should blame myself if I were. It
shall be removed to some other room of the house, however."

Then, all of a sudden, it struck Henry how foolish it would be to remove
the portrait from the wall of a room which, in all likelihood, after
that night, would be uninhabited; for it was not probable that Flora
would choose again to inhabit a chamber in which she had gone through so