wholly failed. When I had done, I returned
my books to their shelves, and went out.
There was a long passage on that side of the
hall, flanked, like the hall itself, with Gothic
windows looking out into the gardens of the
College. As I locked the library door, and
held my hand upon the key, I turned and
saw a female form ascending the flight of
steps, at the bottom. I stood looking that way
as she came towards me. Her white dress
seemed to make a light about her in the
dusky passage, so that I could see her face.
I did not wonder at first to meet her there,
but saw her, as in dreams, sometimes, we come
on unexpected things, without surprise. She
passed me without speaking, and turning an
angle in the passage, was gone. I stood there
for some time, hoping that she might return,
and wondering whence she came, and who
she was. I had never seen a young maiden
in the College before; nor could I imagine
how I should meet her in that part of the
building, unless she were staying with the
Warden; and he, I knew, lived only with his
housekeeper, and never had a visitor.

I pondered upon this circumstance on my
way home, suspecting that it was a vision
that I had seen. I had been reading, that
day, the story of an ancient hero, who finding
an old decrepid woman, a leper, by the
way-side, took her up upon his saddle, and bore her
with him into a city.  And that night, lying
on his bed, he was awakened by a great light,
and saw a girl in the room, who promised
him a crown of glory for the act; but vanished
as he stretched forth his hand. When I
reflected, there seemed to me in the description
of the knight's vision, so much
resemblance to the form that I had seen, and the
effect that it had wrought upon me, that one
seemed to have grown out of the other. I
thought of the solitary life that I was leading,
and considered this circumstance with uneasiness,
as indicative of an unhealthy state of my
mind. Yet I felt a pleasure in recalling it;
which increased as I indulged it. I sat again
the next day in the library until late, and
went out by the same passage, hoping to meet
her. I lingered there some time, but she
did not come. As I was locking the door,
and turning to walk away, I heard a footstep
on the stair below. I stood still, and
waited anxiously; but when it came nearer,
I knew that it was the old Warden's. I spoke
to him first; for it was dark, and he could
scarcely see me. I was about to tell him of
the young person whom I had met, but his
manner was so short, that I was deterred.
He spoke to me of some books in the library
which were to be lent to a person in the city,
and then asked me why I stayed so late. I said
I had been busy; he bade me good night,
somewhat abruptly, and went on.

I was at a loss to account for the sudden
coolness of his manner. He was accounted
a churlish man, but towards me he had
generally preserved a friendly bearing, and
I could not help perceiving that I had been a
favourite of his. He was, indeed, somewhat
eccentric, and I had frequently before known
him to be subject to shifting humours; but
I felt this time that there was something
more than usual. For several weeks past he
had not invited me into his house, as had been
his custom, now and then; although I had
not experienced any change in his manner. I
sought, in vain, to remember any occasion on
which I could have offended him; and I
resolved to wait for an opportunity of asking
him, in what I had displeased him.

I did not see him again, however, for several
days. One afternoon, when I was sitting in
the library, I heard two of the blind inmates of
the College talking under the window, which
was open; and from their conversation I
gained some clue to the mystery of the young
person whom I had met. I knew them by
their voices. He who seemed better informed
upon the subject than his companion, was one
of the oldest men there. He was short, and
somewhat bent, but thickset; and was said to
possess great strength. He used to wear a
kind of cloth frock, buttoned down the whole
length of the front, and he used to walk with
a stick with which I once saw him, with a
single blow, beat a dog to death who had
bitten him. I had always a fear of him. I
had scarcely ever heard him speak, that he was
not giving vent to general bitterness, or anger
against some one, and there was an
expression of malice in his large and hard
features, which made me shrink from him. I had
found him, sometimes, at evening, in the
quadrangle walking alone; sometimes, when I had
met him, coming through the passage leading
to the ancient schoolroom, and groping along
the wall his face with its fixed and sightless
eyes inclined forward, a feeling almost of terror
had compelled me to turn back. I believe that
on such occasions he had detected my foot-step,
with the quick sense of the blind; and that
knowing who I was, and divining that I felt a
dislike for him, he had treasured up malice
against me. " I thought I heard a woman's
footstep in the dining-hall, last night," he said
now, " but I suppose I was mistaken; for no
one answered when I spoke, and I didn't hear
it again. My hearing used to be sharp, but
lately I have had a singing in the ears. I am
not deaf, but I get to fancy noises."

"Like enough," said the other, " it was old
Alison's niece, Amy. Be sure she heard you;
and so she would not answer! She is afraid
of an old blind man. Somebody taught her,
I'll be sworn, when she was a child, that old,
deformed, halt, or blind people are spiteful,
and to be hated. If you had been young, like
the boy he took into the library, she would
not have run away."

"The Warden's niece!" said his companion.
"I never heard of her; or else I have
forgotten her. My memory is not what it was."

"No, no, man: you never heard of her.
She has not been here many days. The