As we touched our glasses together , my legendary friend made himself known to me as Mr. Bela Tiffany , and I rejoiced at the oddity of the name , because it gave his image and character a sort of individuality in my conception . The old gentleman 's draught acted as a solvent upon his memory , so that it overflowed with tales , traditions , anecdotes of famous dead people and traits of ancient manners , some of which were childish as a nurse 's lullaby , while others might have been worth the notice of the grave historian . Nothing impressed me more than a story of a black mysterious picture which used to hang in one of the chambers of the Province House , directly above the room where we were now sitting . The following is as correct a version of the fact as the reader would be likely to obtain from any other source , although , assuredly , it has a tinge of romance approaching to the marvellous . * * * * * In one of the apartments of the province-house there was long preserved an ancient picture the frame of which was as black as ebony , and the canvas itself so dark with age , damp and smoke that not a touch of the painter 's art could be discerned . Time had thrown an impenetrable veil over it and left to tradition and fable and conjecture to say what had once been there portrayed . During the rule of many successive governors it had hung , by prescriptive and undisputed right , over the mantel piece of the same chamber , and it still kept its place when Lieutenant-governor Hutchinson assumed the administration of the province on the departure of Sir Francis Bernard . The lieutenant-governor sat one afternoon resting his head against the carved back of his stately arm-chair and gazing up thoughtfully at the void blackness of the picture . It was scarcely a time for such inactive musing , when affairs of the deepest moment required the ruler 's decision ; for within that very hour Hutchinson had received intelligence of the arrival of a British fleet bringing three regiments from Halifax to overawe the insubordination of the people . These troops awaited his permission to occupy the fortress of Castle William and the town itself , yet , instead of affixing his signature to an official order , there sat the lieutenant-governor so carefully scrutinizing the black waste of canvas that his demeanor attracted the notice of two young persons who attended him . One , wearing a military dress of buff , was his kinsman , Francis Lincoln , the provincial captain of Castle William ; the other , who sat on a low stool beside his chair , was Alice Vane , his favorite niece . She was clad entirely in white -- a pale , ethereal creature who , though a native of New England , had been educated abroad and seemed not merely a stranger from another clime , but almost a being from another world . For several years , until left an orphan , she had dwelt with her father in sunny Italy , and there had acquired a taste and enthusiasm for sculpture and painting which she found few opportunities of gratifying in the undecorated dwellings of the colonial gentry . It was said that the early productions of her own pencil exhibited no inferior genius , though perhaps the rude atmosphere of New England had cramped her hand and dimmed the glowing colors of her fancy . But , observing her uncle 's steadfast gaze , which appeared to search through the mist of years to discover the subject of the picture , her curiosity was excited . `` Is it known , my dear uncle , '' inquired she , `` what this old picture once represented ? Possibly , could it be made visible , it might prove a masterpiece of some great artist ; else why has it so long held such a conspicuous place ? '' As her uncle , contrary to his usual custom -- for he was as attentive to all the humors and caprices of Alice as if she had been his own best-beloved child -- did not immediately reply , the young captain of Castle William took that office upon himself . `` This dark old square of canvas , my fair cousin , '' said he , `` has been an heirloom in the province-house from time immemorial . As to the painter , I can tell you nothing ; but if half the stories told of it be true , not one of the great Italian masters has ever produced so marvellous a piece of work as that before you . ''
Captain Lincoln proceeded to relate some of the strange fables and fantasies which , as it was impossible to refute them XXXXX ocular demonstration , had grown to be articles of popular belief in reference to this old picture .
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