nor fainted, but, putting his eager kisses aside,
calmly inquired who he was who dared thus to insult her. She had no
sooner pronounced the inquiry, than she heard the words, "Thomas--your
own Thomas!" pronounced in tones which could not be mistaken. This,
indeed, overpowered her; and, with a scream of agony, she sank down dead
on the earth. This brought immediate assistance; but she was found lying
by herself, and talking wildly about her Thomas Laing. Everybody who
heard her concluded that she had either actually seen her lover's ghost,
or that her mind had given way under the pressure of regret for her
marriage, and that she was now actually a lunatic. For twelve hours she
continued to evince the most manifest marks of insanity; but sleep at
last soothed and restored her, and she immediately sent for me. I
endeavoured to persuade her that it must be all a delusion, and that the
imagination oftentimes created such fancies. I gave instances from books
which I had read, as well as from a particular friend of my own who had
long been subject to such delusive impressions, and at last she became
actually persuaded that there had been no reality in what she had so
vividly perceived, and still most distinctly and fearfully recollected.
I took occasion then to urge upon her the exceeding sinfulness of
allowing any image to come betwixt her and her lawful married husband;
and left her restored, if not to her usual serenity, at least to a
conviction that she had only been disturbed by a vision.

When her husband returned, I took him aside, and explained my views of
the case, and stated my most decided apprehension that some similar
impression might return upon her nerves, and that her sisters (her
mother being now removed by death) should dwell in the same house with
her. To this, however, the captain objected, on the score that, though
he was willing to pay a person to take care of them in their own house,
he did not deem them proper company, in short, for a _captain's wife_. I
disliked the reasoning, and told him so; but he became passionate, and I
saw it was useless to contend further. From that day, however, Bill
M'Guffock seemed to have become an altered man. Jealousy, or something
nearly resembling it, took possession of his heart; and he even ventured
to affirm that his wife had a paramour somewhere concealed, with whom,
in his long and necessary absences, she associated. He alleged, too,
that in her sleep she would repe