dying without revealing the mystery to his son, I see no other means of terminating the history of the portrait, which is undoubtedly by no means devoid of interest, than by inventing according to one’s fancy a dénouement which shall explain all.”
“That does not appear at all necessary to me,” said a young man: “this history, like the one that preceded it, is in reality finished, and gives all the satisfaction one has any right to expect from recitals of this species.”
“I should not agree with you,” replied Ferdinand, “if I was capable of explaining the mysterious connection between the portrait and the death of the two children in the same night, or the terror of Juliana at sight of the other portrait, and her death, consequently caused by it. I am, however, not the less obliged to you for the entire satisfaction you evince.”
“But,” resumed the young man, “what benefit would your imagination receive, if the connections of which you speak were known to you?”
“Very great benefit, without doubt,” replied Ferdinand; “for imagination requires the completion of the objects it represents, as much as the judgment requires correctness and accuracy in its ideas.”
The mistress of the house, not being partial to these metaphysical disputes, took part with Fer-
