return, in its old form, might have awakened a momentary sensation of
fear, which, almost in the act of waking, would have passed away. This
disquiet, however, lingered about him, and would yield to nothing. When
he closed his eyes again, he felt it hovering near; as he slowly sunk
into a slumber, he was conscious of its gathering strength and purpose,
and gradually assuming its recent shape; when he sprang up from his bed,
the same phantom vanished from his heated brain, and left him filled
with a dread against which reason and waking thought were powerless.

The sun was up, before he could shake it off. He rose late, but not
refreshed, and remained within doors all that day. He had a fancy for
paying his last visit to the old spot in the evening, for he had been
accustomed to walk there at that season, and desired to see it under the
aspect that was most familiar to him. At such an hour as would afford
him time to reach it a little before sunset, he left the inn, and turned
into the busy street.

He had not gone far, and was thoughtfully making his way among the noisy
crowd, when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and, turning, recognised
one of the waiters from the inn, who begged his pardon, but he had left
his sword behind him.

'Why have you brought it to me?' he asked, stretching out his hand, and
yet not taking it from the man, but looking at him in a disturbed and
agitated manner.

The man was sorry to have disobliged him, and would carry it back again.
The gentleman had said that he was going a little way into the country,
and that he might not return until late. The roads were not very safe
for single travellers after dark; and, since the riots, gentlemen had
been more careful than ever, not to trust themselves unarmed in lonely
places. 'We thought you were a stranger, sir,' he added, 'and that you
might believe our roads to be better than they are; but perhaps you know
them well, and carry fire-arms--'

He took the sword, and putting it up at his side, thanked the man, and
resumed his walk.

It was long remembered that he did this in a manner so strange, and
with such a trembling hand, that the messenger stood looking after his
retreating figure, doubtful whether he ought not to follow, and watch
him. It was long remembered that he had been heard pacing his bedroom in
the dead of the night; that the attendants had mentioned to each other
in the morning, how fevered and how pale he looked; and that whe