thoughts. I would do the deed this night, but my hand is somewhat tremulous. Aha! she is waiting up yonder, wondering why her newly enlisted cavalier comes not. Aha! she may wait a long time. Dead men never rise again. As he thought this, he started. Something seemed to be telling him that dead men do rise again: and then his thoughts wandered off into eternity, and he saw a white face rise up and confront him; he saw a thin hand point its skeleton fingers at him; he heard the voice of Cain hailing him as brother, and the voice of his victim accusing him of murder. Would he draw back and lead a virtuous life? No! he was too far on the road; he could not find the way back. mind was returning to the days of youth. Не Now his He remembered the time when he was poor but happy. saw his mother's grey hair waving about his face. He heard her kind voice thanking him for his goodness to her. He felt her warm kiss upon his lips, and in agony of spirit he cried, 'Mother! mother! if thou hadst lived ; "The sentence was left unfinished. He fancied that he heard a noise below. He listened. All was still. The stillness was so intense as to be almost audible and there, outstretched upon that couch, he lay far into the night. Sleep he could not. The sweet restorer of the weary labourer, whose bed is a heap of straw, refused to visit him in the midst of his wealth and wickedness. Hot and restless was he; and he turned and twisted, twisted and turned, but he could not drive from his brow that red-hot brand which burned, burned, burned, as though it would burn up his heart. Gradually, however, he became calmer; his head sank back upon his pillow; his labouring breast began to heave less wildly; the eyelids fell, and the murderer slept. He was dreaming; he saw his ward, escorted by a body of people, pass out from the castle; he saw the officers of justice enter the portals he had left; he felt himself seized, and, starting up in terror, he swore that he would no longer bear such torment, that he would then and there consummate the bloody deed he had purposed for the morrow. Stealthily he opened the chamber door and crept upward. He listened for some evidence of her being asleep; not a sound came from her chamber. He crept on and tried the door; it was open. He advanced towards the centre, and listened again; all was still, save the regular breathing of his victim. He groped about for her bed; his hand was on the counterpane; a knife gleamed in the faint light. Swift as thought it descended, and 666 'Ah,' cried the assassin, as a strong arm obstructed his, who is there?' "A sudden light shone in the room, and there, with his hair dishevelled and his face bloody, stood the man he had but lately consigned to the grave. Horrified at the apparition, the coward turned and fled from the room, while close behind him came the avenging tread of the phantom. Down they went, those two, down those steep, slippery steps, round corners, and through doors, and still the murderer shrieked for help, and still the phantom trod behind. They have gained the outer door, the bars fly back, they rush into the court; they have passed the outer walls-still on they rush; they are on the verge of the precipice; the conscience-stricken wretch glances behind, and sees that ghostly face looming through the darkness. He looks before, and sees the dark abyss yawning at his feet; he thinks no second time, but, with a shriek of mad despair, a shriek that must have comforted the hearts of the avenging slaves of hell, he rushes over the brink, and in another moment his soul is in eternity. "The morning sun rose on Montgomery Castle. Within, a strange scene was being enacted. A fair lady leant on the arm of a pale gentleman, who was telling her that, on the previous night, he had been apparently slain by her treacherous guardian; that he was then buried some depth under ground; that on returning to consciousness, he threw his arms about and felt the ground beneath give way; that he then found himself in a subterranean passage, which, he had no doubt, led to the castle. Following this, he entered the building, and gained the lady's chamber in time to save her from the ruthless knife. "In a very little time after, there was a wedding, as a matter of course. The bride was blushing and timid, the bridegroom happy and elated, the guests boisterous and contented. They lived together, that wedded pair, for many years, and were universally regretted when they died. At this present a stone marks the spot where the murderer fell, and it is called the Bloodstone." Having thanked my friend for his story, I was about to make some remark, when he said, "But I've not finished yet." "Oh! very well," I replied; "perhaps you will continue." "It's only the moral," said he. "What, another moral !" was my exclamation. "Yes, and a good one," said he. "Never boil your pot at other people's fires." 66 This quaint remark brought a smile to my face. Young man," said he, "if you will only carry out that motto in your journey through life, and in all things remember the fixed laws of meum and tuum, you will be spared many a head-ache, many a sorrow, many a bitter reproach, many a "Rea-ding!" shouted half-a-dozen porters, as the train entered the station. "I change here," said my companion. 66 Do you ?" said I. "So do I-for Wales." "Then I shall have the pleasure of your company. That's well!" said he. I liked him better every minute. He really was immensely agreeable, and capital company. No danger of catching the blues with him. There was something uncommon about him, something it was impossible to acquire, something of the gentleman; and though he had some very singular ways with him, I was now fully persuaded that he was no lunatic. Indeed, by this time we were becoming fast friends, and I felt glad that we were going further together. Other tales he told me on our journey, which I have not time to chronicle here; but often in the silent night, when the winds of heaven are asleep, and the many-quilted stars are lost in the folds of azure, I think of the same man, with his grey hair and his eccentric manner, and I always think of him kindly in spite of his weak voice, white choker, and sideboards. |