ross the room, she is
obliged to exert herself. While you were gone, if I mistake not, she did
not utter a word. Clara and I had all the talk to ourselves. Still it
may be that she held a whispering conference with you on the hill; but
tell us the particulars."

"The conference," said he, "was short; and far from being carried on in
a whisper. You know with what intention I left the house. Half way to
the rock, the moon was for a moment hidden from us by a cloud. I never
knew the air to be more bland and more calm. In this interval I glanced
at the temple, and thought I saw a glimmering between the columns. It
was so faint, that it would not perhaps have been visible, if the moon
had not been shrowded. I looked again, but saw nothing. I never visit
this building alone, or at night, without being reminded of the fate
of my father. There was nothing wonderful in this appearance; yet it
suggested something more than mere solitude and darkness in the same
place would have done.

"I kept on my way. The images that haunted me were solemn; and I
entertained an imperfect curiosity, but no fear, as to the nature of
this object. I had ascended the hill little more than half way, when a
voice called me from behind. The accents were clear, distinct, powerful,
and were uttered, as I fully believed, by my wife. Her voice is
not commonly so loud. She has seldom occasion to exert it, but,
nevertheless, I have sometimes heard her call with force and eagerness.
If my ear was not deceived, it was her voice which I heard.

"Stop, go no further. There is danger in your path." The suddenness
and unexpectedness of this warning, the tone of alarm with which it was
given, and, above all, the persuasion that it was my wife who spoke,
were enough to disconcert and make me pause. I turned and listened to
assure myself that I was not mistaken. The deepest silence succeeded. At
length, I spoke in my turn. Who calls? is it you, Catharine? I stopped
and presently received an answer. "Yes, it is I; go not up; return
instantly; you are wanted at the house." Still the voice was
Catharine's, and still it proceeded from the foot of the stairs.

"What could I do? The warning was mysterious. To be uttered by Catharine
at a place, and on an occasion like these, enhanced the mystery. I could
do nothing but obey. Accordingly, I trod back my steps, expecting that
she waited for me at the bottom of the hill. When I reached the
bottom, no one was visible. The