the steps of the
mansion with a torch-bearer behind him. It was the elderly man who had
spoken to the Old Maid, and the same who had afterward explained the
shield of arms and recognized the features of the negro. Like their
predecessors, they gave three raps with the iron hammer.

"Old Caesar cometh not," observed the priest. "Well, I wot he no longer
doth service in this mansion."

"Assuredly, then, it was something worse in old Caesar's likeness,"
said the other adventurer.

"Be it as God wills," answered the clergyman. "See! my strength,
though it be much decayed, hath sufficed to open this heavy door. Let
us enter and pass up the staircase."

Here occurred a singular exemplification of the dreamy state of a very
old man's mind. As they ascended the wide flight of stairs the aged
clergyman appeared to move with caution, occasionally standing aside,
and oftener bending his head, as it were in salutation, thus
practising all the gestures of one who makes his way through a throng.
Reaching the head of the staircase, he looked around with sad and
solemn benignity, laid aside his staff, bared his hoary locks, and was
evidently on the point of commencing a prayer.

"Reverend sir," said his attendant, who conceived this a very suitable
prelude to their further search, "would it not be well that the people
join with us in prayer?"

"Well-a-day!" cried the old clergyman, staring strangely around him.
"Art thou here with me, and none other? Verily, past times were
present to me, and I deemed that I was to make a funeral prayer, as
many a time heretofore, from the head of this staircase. Of a truth, I
saw the shades of many that are gone. Yea, I have prayed at their
burials, one after another, and the Old Maid in the Winding-Sheet hath
seen them to their graves."

Being now more thoroughly awake to their present purpose, he took his
staff and struck forcibly on the floor, till there came an echo from
each deserted chamber, but no menial to answer their summons. They
therefore walked along the passage, and again paused, opposite to the
great front window, through which was seen the crowd in the shadow and
partial moonlight of the street beneath. On their right hand was the
open door of a chamber, and a closed one on their left.

The clergyman pointed his cane to the carved oak panel of the latter.

"Within that chamber," observed he, "a whole lifetime since, did I sit
by the death-bed of a goodly young man who, being