The Argosy — page 235: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

216 Caterina. history of the Orange as related by Teresa while away from Amster- dam on her mysterious journeys. First in the row was the picture already seen by Vrow Steen, namely, the ship anchored to an iceberg like a vast cathedral, with spires and pinnacles, steeple and tower. Next came a grimmer canvas. The ship was closed in and deserted, and her crew were dragging timber to build a hut near her, their motions followed by bears the colour of the thickly-falling snow. A frightful misery was depicted in every face. Again there was a picture of the completed hut. ‘The crew were not visible, but their deadly enemies, the bears, swarmed around. A couple of them crouched on the deck of the deserted ship. Another lay upon the roof of the hut, while near the door an enor- mous bear stood erect like a ghastly sentinel. He had been killed and disembowelled and set frozen upon his legs, where he remained month after month with a mass of snow and ice accumulated upon him until he had grown into a fantastic and gigantic apparition, still wearing the semblance of the men’s mortal foe. This painting was inexpressibly weird, and it excited terror in the quaking spectators ; but the last in the row of pictures agitated them yet more. It repre- sented the depth of an Arctic winter. The cold sunshine was gone, and only the moon gave light to a pale procession carrying a corpse. to its last resting-place, a cleft in the ice. The features of the dead man were those of Van Rennen, the carpenter. “Ach!” ejaculated Vrow Steen, “that, then, was what she meant when she said Van Rennen would come back no more!” ‘But this is magic,” faltered the horrified father: ‘if she were en times my child, she should———” ‘Hush, man, the chief fault is not hers, but the Italian’s. She must suffer, but Teresa shall escape.” Vrow Steen cast a glance of terror at the housekeeper. Teresa’s destiny might indeed lie in her hands. ‘“‘See,” she whispered, ‘‘ there is the Skipper, and there behind him is Jan, but how changed they are, and how stiff their clothes seem with ice. They will soon be corpses themselves. See the foxes swarming after them. My faith, they look grizzly in the moonlight!” ‘“‘T never saw this picture before,” said Truda; ‘‘ madame kept her unholy work well hidden. This is the worst of all. Ah, the devil himself held the brush that time. Cursed Italian sorceress and papist, thou shalt frizzle for this !” ‘“‘Come away!” cried the terrified parents; ‘‘come away, lest we too have dealings with the foul fiend,” and they tottered towards the portiére, leaving Truda to gloat over the painting, and revel in her hopes of vengeance. GEomichbooks.co