"The evil is upon us, Edward.

We have failed to guard the door of our castle, and the enemy has come in.

Ah, my husband! if you could see with my eyes, there would stand before you a frightful apparition." "And what shape would it assume ?" asked Mr.Markland, affecting to treat lightly the fears of his wife.
"That of a beautiful girl, with white, sunken cheeks, and hollow, weeping eyes." An instant paleness overspread the face of Mr.Markland.
"Look there!" said Mrs.Markland, suddenly, drawing the attention of her husband to a picture on the wall.

The eyes of Mr.Markland fell instantly on a portrait of Fanny.

It was one of those wonders of art that transform dead colours into seeming life, and, while giving to every lineament a faultless reproduction, heightens the charm of each.