Dolph now called to mind the resemblance he had
frequently remarked between his host and the old man of the haunted
house; and was fully convinced that they were in some way connected,
and that some especial destiny had governed his voyage. He lay gazing
on the portrait with almost as much awe as he had gazed on the ghostly
original, until the shrill house-clock warned him of the lateness of
the hour. He put out the light; but remained for a long time turning
over these curious circumstances and coincidences in his mind, until
he fell asleep. His dreams partook of the nature of his waking
thoughts. He fancied that he still lay gazing on the picture, until,
by degrees, it became animated; that the figure descended from the
wall and walked out of the room; that he followed it and found himself
by the well, to which the old man pointed, smiled on him, and
disappeared.
In the morning when Dolph waked, he found his host standing by his
bed-side, who gave him a hearty morning's salutation, and asked him
how he had slept. Dolph answered cheerily; but took occasion to
inquire about the portrait that hung against the wall. "Ah," said Heer
Antony, "that's a portrait of old Killian Vander Spiegel, once a
burgomaster of Amsterdam, who, on some popular troubles, abandoned
Holland and came over to the province during the government of Peter
Stuyvesant.
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