Read the excerpt from The Adventure of the Mysterious Picture. How was this vile nervous fit, for such now persuaded myself it was, to be conquered? I determined to force
myself not to look at the painting but to undress quickly and get into bed. I began to undress, but in spite of
every effort I could not keep myself from stealing a glance every now and then at the picture; and a glance was
now sufficient to distress me. Even when my back was turned to it, the idea of this strange face behind me,
peering over my shoulder, was insufferable.
How does the excerpt exemplify Gothic fiction?