had been there, could he fail to have
been visible? Which of my senses was the prey of a fatal illusion? The
shock which the sound produced was still felt in every part of my frame.
The sound, therefore, could not but be a genuine commotion. But that I
had heard it, was not more true than that the being who uttered it was
stationed at my right ear; yet my attendant was invisible.

I cannot describe the state of my thoughts at that moment. Surprize
had mastered my faculties. My frame shook, and the vital current was
congealed. I was conscious only to the vehemence of my sensations. This
condition could not be lasting. Like a tide, which suddenly mounts to
an overwhelming height, and then gradually subsides, my confusion slowly
gave place to order, and my tumults to a calm. I was able to deliberate
and move. I resumed my feet, and advanced into the midst of the room.
Upward, and behind, and on each side, I threw penetrating glances. I was
not satisfied with one examination. He that hitherto refused to be
seen, might change his purpose, and on the next survey be clearly
distinguishable.

Solitude imposes least restraint upon the fancy. Dark is less fertile
of images than the feeble lustre of the moon. I was alone, and the walls
were chequered by shadowy forms. As the moon passed behind a cloud and
emerged, these shadows seemed to be endowed with life, and to move. The
apartment was open to the breeze, and the curtain was occasionally
blown from its ordinary position. This motion was not unaccompanied with
sound. I failed not to snatch a look, and to listen when this motion
and this sound occurred. My belief that my monitor was posted near,
was strong, and instantly converted these appearances to tokens of his
presence, and yet I could discern nothing.

When my thoughts were at length permitted to revert to the past, the
first idea that occurred was the resemblance between the words of the
voice which I had just heard, and those which had terminated my dream in
the summer-house. There are means by which we are able to distinguish a
substance from a shadow, a reality from the phantom of a dream. The pit,
my brother beckoning me forward, the seizure of my arm, and the voice
behind, were surely imaginary. That these incidents were fashioned in my
sleep, is supported by the same indubitable evidence that compels me to
believe myself awake at present; yet the words and the voice were the
same. Then, by some inexplicable contri