d, inaudibly. 'If I can get
him in only half as vigorously as he sits there, the portrait will beat
every thing I have done: he will walk out of the canvass. What
extraordinary features; what depth in the lines and furrows! he repeated
to himself, redoubling his fervour at every stroke, as he observed trait
after trait rapidly transferring itself to the canvass. But, whilst
proceeding with his work, he insensibly became aware of a strange
feeling of oppression and uneasiness that crept over him, he knew not
how or wherefore. Disregarding it, he persisted in following, with the
strictest fidelity and most scrupulous care, every line, and tone, and
shade in the extraordinary countenance of his model. To the eyes he gave
his chief attention. At first they nearly made him despair. So peculiar
and penetrating was their expression, so unlike were they to any eyes he
had ever encountered, that it seemed an almost hopeless task to attempt
to render them in a picture. Nevertheless he persevered, resolved, at
whatever cost of pains and time, to follow them in their minute details,
and thus to penetrate, if possible, the mystery and secret of their
expression. But whilst engaged in this work, whilst diving, as it were,
with his pencil, into the recesses of those mysterious orbs, the
uneasiness he had before felt rapidly increased, and there arose in his
soul such an inexplicable loathing, such an overpowering sensation of
vague horror, that he was several times obliged to suspend his work, and
it was only by a violent effort he could bring himself to resume it. At
last this unaccountable feeling fairly mastered him; he could no longer
bear to look upon those horrible eyes, whose demon-like gaze filled him
with dismay. He closed the sitting. But the next day, and the one after
that, the same thing occurred; after painting for a short time he
invariably became agitated, excited, and unable to proceed. Each day
these sensations increased in strength, until they became positive
torture, and at last my father threw down his brush, declaring he would
paint no more. Extraordinary was the effect produced upon the mysterious
usurer by this declaration. By the most touching and humble entreaties,
and by promises of munificent reward, he essayed, but in vain, to induce
my father to retract his decision and resume his task. He even
prostrated himself before him and implored him to terminate the
picture, saying that upon its completion hung his