The countenance of its intended rider met
fully the gaze of the spectator. It was a countenance of singular
loveliness and power. The lips and the moulding of the chin resembled
the eager and impassioned tenderness of the shape of Antinous; but
instead of the effeminate sullenness of the eye, and the narrow
smoothness of the forehead, shone an expression of profound and
piercing thought. On each side of the clear and open brow descended,
even to the shoulders, the clustering locks of golden hair; while the
eyes, large and yet deep, beamed with a spiritual energy, and shone
like two wells of crystalline water that reflect the all-beholding
heavens.
Now when Venetia Herbert beheld this countenance a change came over
her. It seemed that when her eyes met the eyes of the portrait, some
mutual interchange of sympathy occurred between them. She freed
herself in an instant from the apprehension and timidity that before
oppressed her. Whatever might ensue, a vague conviction of having
achieved a great object pervaded, as it were, her being. Some great
end, vast though indefinite, had been fulfilled. Abstract and
fearless, she gazed upon the dazzling visage with a prophetic heart.
Her soul was in a tumult, oppressed with thick-coming fancies too big
for words, panting for expression.
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