ngs, hustled himself into his roquelaure, and, candle in hand,
in slippered feet, glided, like a ghost, down stairs to the back
drawing-room, which, as we know, was his study.

The night was serene and breathless. The sky had cleared, and the
moonlight slept mistily on the soft slopes of the park. The landscape
was a febrifuge, and cooled and quieted his brain as he stood before it
at his open window, in solitary meditation. It was not till his slowly
wandering eye lighted on the churchyard, with a sort of slight shock,
that he again bestirred himself.

There it lay, with its white tombstones and its shadows spread under
him, seeming to say--'Ay, here I am; the narrow goal of all your plans.
Not one of the glimmering memorials you see that does not cover what
once was a living world of long-headed schemes, chequered remembrances,
and well-kept secrets. Here lie your brother plotters, all in bond, only
some certain inches below; with their legs straight and their arms by
their sides, as when grim Captain DEATH called the stern word
"attention!" with their sightless faces and unthinking foreheads turned
up to the moon. Dr. Sturk, there are lots of places for you to choose
among--suit yourself--here--or here--or maybe here.'

And so Sturk closed the window and remembered his dream, and looked out
stealthily but sternly from the door, which was ajar, and shut it
sharply, and with his hands in his breeches' pockets, took a quick turn
to the window; his soul had got into harness again, and he was busy
thinking. Then he snuffed the candle, and then quickened his invention
by another brisk turn; and then he opened his desk, and sat down to
write a note.

'Yes,' said he to himself, pausing for a minute, with his pen in his
fingers, ''tis as certain as that I sit here.'

Well, he wrote the note. There was a kind of smile on his face, which
was paler than usual all the while; and he read it over, and threw
himself back in his chair, and then read it over again, and did not like
it, and tore it up.

Then he thought hard for a while, leaning upon his elbow; and took a
couple of great pinches of snuff, and snuffed his candle again, and, as
it were, snuffed his wits, and took up his pen with a little flourish,
and dashed off another, and read it, and liked it, and gave it a little
sidelong nod, as though he said, 'You'll do;' and, indeed, considering
all the time and thought he spent upon it, the composition was no great
wonder