s white--her hair hangs about her shoulders. Is she alive again? Susan!
Susan! why that look? You loved me well--too well. You will not drag me
to perdition! You will not appear against me! No, no, no--it is not in
your nature--you whom I doted on, whom I loved--whom I--but I
repented--I sorrowed--I prayed--prayed! Oh! oh! no prayers would avail.
Pray for me, Susan--for ever! _Your_ intercession may avail. It is not
too late. I will do justice to all. Bring me pen and ink--paper--I will
confess--_he_ shall have all. Where is my sister? I would speak with
her--would tell her--tell her. Call Alan Rookwood--I shall die before I
can tell it. Come hither,' said he to me. 'There is a dark, dreadful
secret on my mind--it must forth. Tell my sister--no, my senses
swim--Susan is near me--fury in her eyes--avenging fury--keep her off.
What is this white mass in my arms? what do I hold? is it the corpse by
my side, as it lay that long, long night? It is--it is. Cold, stiff,
stirless as then. White--horribly white--as when the moon, that would
not set, showed all its ghastliness. Ah! it moves, embraces me, stifles,
suffocates me. Help! remove the pillow. I cannot breathe--I choke--oh!'
And now I am coming to the strangest part of my story--and, strange as
it may sound, every word is as true as Gospel."

"Ahem!" coughed Small.

"Well, at this moment--this terrible moment--what should I hear but a
tap against the wainscot. Holy Virgin! how it startled me. My heart
leapt to my mouth in an instant, and then went thump, thump, against my
ribs. But I said nothing, though you may be sure I kept my ears wide
open--and then presently I heard the tap repeated somewhat louder, and
shortly afterwards a third--I should still have said nothing, but Sir
Piers heard the knock, and raised himself at the summons, as if it had
been the last trumpet. 'Come in,' cried he, in a dying voice; and Heaven
forgive me if I confess that I expected a certain person, whose company
one would rather dispense with upon such an occasion, to step in.
However, though it wasn't the ould gentleman, it was somebody near akin
to him; for a door I had never seen, and never even dreamed of, opened
in the wall, and in stepped Peter Bradley--ay, you may well stare,
gentlemen; but it was Peter, looking as stiff as a crowbar, and as blue
as a mattock. Well, he walked straight up to the bed of the dying man,
and bent his great, diabolical gray eyes upon him, laughing all the
wh