came out of her bed-room with a light: she
asked me what had happened; but I excused
myself, saying that I had stumbled on the
stairs; for I did not dare to tell her what I
had seen. She picked my candle up, and
relighted it, and I hastened up to my bedroom;
for I knew that it would be useless to
search the house. I could not account for
this. I had not been thinking about the
house having been once a madhouse.

But these were but the beginning of my
troubles. Such visitations began to grow
frequent, till at length scarcely a day past but
some strange, uncouth, or terrible apparition
came to annoy me. I saw friends whom I
knew to be long since dead in corners of my
room. I found the same woman with the
chain whom I had seen before, sitting in a
chair in the hall. I was followed sometimes
up and down stairs by the shadow of a dog—
a large water dog who ran with his head
downwards as if smelling the ground as he
went. Nowhere was I safe from these
annoyances. My housekeeper came into my
room once to speak to me, and I saw a little
child walking beside her, whom I knew she
could not see. Nor was it only in the house
that I saw these things. Walking in a lane
one evening I noticed a man sitting on a
stile that I had to pass, with a countenance
hideous to look at, having large, blind
eye-balls, such as sculptors carve. As I stood
looking at him, he faded away like the others.

I strove for a long time against these
imaginations. I tried to take them calmly—
to treat them as a disease of the mind that
time would cure. I got books, and read of
men who had been haunted in a similar
manner, and saw what they had done to rid
themselves of such annoyances; but most
of their remedies were impracticable for
me. I could not leave my business to run
about the world for "change of scene." I
thought that I might perhaps get used to
them in time, and come to pass them by
without concern. But I felt that my health
was growing worse under the persecution
that I suffered. My housekeeper remarked
that I grew thin in the face; which fact I
dare say was duly reported to my family
as another proof of my insanity. I felt
inclined to bid her leave the house when she
said so; but I was afraid of making her my
enemy, for I knew how eager my friends were
to employ her against me.

My fortitude gave way at last, and I began
to torment myself with superstitious fancies.
I thought, one night, that I might perhaps be
suffering this persecution, because I had
neglected my promise, made to my uncle on his
deathbed, to give Palmer's money to Lionel.
I taxed myself (unjustly, I know) with
deliberately intending to keep it from him, and I
thought of sending it to him at once; but my
reason prevailed over my determination for
some time. I knew very well what my family
were, and that if they ever got a little of my
money, their first thought would be how to
get the remainder into their hands. What
claims had they upon my uncle? As to Lionel,
he had behaved ill to his uncle, and while in
cool blood and in full possession of his reasoning
faculties, the old man had resolved to
punish him. For six years he had never
thought of altering this determination. Were
then the mere ravings of a dying man to upset
a cool judgment made in health, when
patiently weighed this with that, and no
superstitious fears drove him to reward one
who had treated him with the basest ingratitude?
I think it will be admitted that there
was some reason in these arguments. My
family may talk about conscience; but let
them consider how many men there are who
would not, in my position, have taken what
the law allowed them, and never let the matter
trouble their minds for a moment.

I had never spoken to any one of these wild
delusions. I knew no one whom I dared to
trust with my secret. My housekeeper
suspected it, I knew; but she could not be sure, so
long as I held my tongue, and treated her as
before, but, one day, having been haunted the
whole afternoon by a strange face, I put on
my hat and hurried out, determined to visit
the physician who had attended on my uncle;
and having first got from him a promise of
secresy, to ask his advice. He heard me
gravely; said my life had been too solitary
(which I knew as well as he did);
recommended me to travel for awhile, which I told
him was impracticable. " In that case," said
the doctor, " I counsel you to marry."

I thanked him for his advice, and said, I
would think of it. As I passed through a
waiting-room to take my departure, I noticed
a man standing near the window. Heavy
curtains made the room dark; but I recognised
my brother Lionel's face. Not doubting that
this was but another of the delusions that
haunted me, I stood still a moment, and stared
at him. He returned my gaze so steadily,
that any one might have seen me tremble. I
do not know, now, whether I said anything or
uttered any exclamation, but I remember that
I rushed to the door, which was half open, and
hurried out of the house.

The thought that it might have been indeed
my brother whom I had seen became a new
subject of anxiety. I did not know what might
be his business there. Perhaps he had come
to speak to him about me; in which case I
could scarcely hope that the doctor would keep
my secret. He would perhaps consider
himself bound, for my good, to tell what he had
heard, and to have me, at once, put under
restraint. I saw myself already the inmate
of a lunatic asylum, subjected to all the
tortures with which madmen are treated. I
could not sleep for the terror which this
thought brought with it. Every footstep
seemed to me to indicate the approach of the
men who were to confiscate my property for
the benefit of my enemies, and to drag me